Shame

I haven't really understood shame. I haven't begun to understand what feeds and empowers it. After building up a lot of courage, I had finally put up a video of me singing a song. I generally don't put videos of myself anywhere because I can't control my expressions or flaws in a video. It's easy to choose a photo and put up the best version of yourself online. But you can't do that in a video. It is an unfiltered version that captures everything you've wanted to hide. 

I'm used to my closest friends not encouraging my singing at all. Throughout my one year journey since I began, all I was told was, you stick to writing, please for God's sake, don't sing. I knew I was bad, but I wasn't ready to give up. I stopped sharing my singing videos with anyone. The only person who said good things about my voice was my son. In his eyes, I was perfect no matter what I did. Yes, he was biased because this was the voice that sang lullabies to him to put him to sleep. It will still take me just five minutes to make him doze off if I sing sitting at his bed, with a hand over his head. 

It didn't matter. I was so stubborn that I wouldn't care. I would keep singing till I got better. I don't do it for any likes or views. I do it because it genuinely makes me happy. When I sing, I lose myself and become something bigger. Exactly the same feeling I experience when I'm writing a poem. When my friend told me on seeing my video that she was glad I showed my face, but of course she still doesn't enjoy my signing, it hurt me. I went back and removed the video. All I saw then was how fat I looked or how fast my eyebrows moved (something I have learnt unconsciously from my father). Maybe I was a really bad singer. Maybe showing my face made it worse. 

But it still didn't matter. The only time I have truly felt shame was as a child. When I would be pulled to a corner and done things with that a child cannot understand. I assumed it was because there was something not good about me, something vile and dirty. 

I don't intend to ever feel that way about anything again in my life. Not my heart or how I feel too much, not rules recited by society over who I should talk to or not, how I should dress or express myself. 

Shame cannot exist in my life. It is an ugly wound that festers till it rots you up from the inside. I wasn't ashamed when R left me without any explanations and ran off to Delhi. Nor when he told me he had brought many women home when I used to visit Bombay on the weekends. Neither have I been ashamed of listening to my body and learning how to make it happy. I will not be ashamed of what I'm writing now for the last 8 months and hopefully when it comes out in the world, even when friends and family will be appalled at my uncomfortable honesty, I still won't be ashamed. 

I am not ashamed of who I have loved or love or fantasise about. You can't tell me if it's right or wrong. My mind, my life, my rules. I march to the beat of my own drum. So I finally put the video back up after I admitted to my friend that I had been hurt by what she said. She apologized and promised to be more thoughtful. I don't intend to stop singing. I don't intend to censor my thoughts as well. I don't expect any accolades from anyone, neither do I welcome any judgement. I don't judge others either for what they say or feel. 

Shame has no place in my life. I will not be shamed for being who I am. 

No matter what I do, 

There will always be

Something wrong with me. 

Someone that I hurt, 

Someone I could have been. 

But I would choose myself again, 

Even if I wasn't good. 

I would love myself again, 

Even if no one else would. 

So don't tell me now of

What I should be. 

I wouldn't tell you either, 

On how to be you too.