writhing fury

its not an easy night to fall asleep on. turmoiled and trying desperately to locate some 'news' or some blog that helps me not fall off the edge into something insane. i find nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing that can explain this. my head, my mind, my body, my soul threaten to slip into the numb abyss. i don't want to feel the feelings i am. i cannot contain them. an hard anger grows in my chest. it will explode me from the core outwards twisting my flesh apart.

even though we all saw it coming i think many of us are in shock about the verdict on the juvenile in the delhi gang rape last year. they sentenced a violent 17 year old rapist to three years in a juvenile home with the possibility of shortening the sentence with review of good behaviour. another one slips through the cracks and laughs at us - the women of india. 

the current news is not detailing this - but as far as i remember he turned 18 in july this year. i remember reading that according to some archaic law he would be tried as a juvenile and that he was likely to serve no time at all more than that he had already served while waiting for the sentencing because once a 'child' in a juvenile reform centre turns 18 he cannot be held in the centre anymore. and he cannot be tried again for the same crime. but they are not saying all this today and i wonder why.

my heart goes out to the parents of the victim. more than the accused they have been in an inner prison of desperate grief, of waiting and waiting for some justice and what they get is this. they have been given a far harsher sentence than he has been - for doing nothing else but giving birth to a girl. for being the parents of a young woman who wanted to make a better future for herself. they were made to wait endlessly for something that just poured boiling oil over their pain and shackled them into endless agony. he ripped their daughters intestines out. this verdict ripped their hearts out. 

at least its ripped mine out. 

child right groups have asked for restraint over the verdict. they have said that our system has failed these children. that maybe so -  but the system has failed women even more and that needs to be corrected too. 

this is just the beginning. another juvenile rapist has already emerged in bombay. more will surely follow. 

pre birthday mood

two days to go for my birthday. this year it promises to be a very low key day. i can live with that. i have had three years of amazing birthdays. a surprise party on my fiftieth and then two more with shibble being around after years of her being away at school or university. one year she baked me cupcakes and the celebration lasted the entire weekend. that was my fifty-first. the next she flew in the night before from innsbruck and we had a day wandering and just doing what came spontaneously. it was a monday and deepak had to work. but we ended up in the paragon ps cafe at 5pm with the dark chocolate cake and the ginger pudding shared between the three of us. that was the fifty-second. it was just the right day i wanted for my birthday.

this year i am committed to some important work during the day and will be in the dojo in the evening. deepak and i will have a late b'day dinner i guess but shibi is still away and deepak too flies away early the next day. leaving me to spend most of my b'day week alone.

most times i love being alone. but this year i am not really wanting it. i feel sad in a low key kind of way. a way where i don't really protest it but nor do i forget it. perhaps other things are adding to that.

since the day itself is going to be very busy i am taking some time today to reflect on what i feel and to think about the last twelve months.

its been a year of upheava but i don't have much in terms of external change to show for it. externally it seems i am just where i was last year. that itself is interesting.

internally where people can't see i am a completely different person. and that i am happy about.

i still can't get italy out of my mind. it creeps in, i feel a squeeze in my heart and a dizziness of longing in my head. i want to be there. but over the last two weeks i have found my rhythm again - at least in writing and my volunteering. but the demoliton next door has been driving up my blood pressure and making my insides vibrate to the point where i close my eyes and cannot function anymore. i need to be home to write for i cannot lug my laptop, my files and index cards around all the time as i tackle my second draft.

and then my back. its gone back to high pain and i have had to spend time with my physio and cut down on training. that really depresses me and i haven't found my training rhythm at all yet.

today i did a very brave thing and sent out the first scenes of the second draft of my fantasy novel to two friends. my hands shook as i hit send. i am now googling  how many drafts  it takes to write a book and am relieved that many have said from 4 -13. i just don't want to write any book but the book that will tell the story my mind and heart want to tell. i want to write in a way that will reduce the gap of what i see in my mind and what i can express in words. for a first time fiction writer i feel i will probably need 6-7 drafts. i don't want to be stuck waiting till i get the perfect draft and never sending my book out to the world but i also want to write it well. i want to invite people into the world i create by good writing.

or i want to find out that words are not my medium of expression - not for a published book anyway - and so move on. let's see what happens.

i am thinking a lot about the rape last week in bombay of a young photojournalist. i am admiring how she went straight to the hospital despite being told by the rapists that they had shot pictures of her and that they would shame her by putting them on the internet if she reported the crime. i am admiring very much how she said, 'this is not the end of life.' this coming from a woman in a country where rape is a woman's shame and the end of a life worth living is incredible. she must have a great family i think. one of the rapists too obviously has a very supportive family. as soon as he was arrested his grandmother came forward with a birth certificate saying he was a minor. honestly i feel that if i could i would put his grandmother in jail too for doing this. the delhi rape trial has gone on too long and i think given adult rapists the feeling that they can get away with it and juveniles the certainty that they will.

on friday after i had read the news and despaired i waited at the bus stop in the afternoon to take a bus to the physiotherapist. two indian men were waiting there too. a strange thing happened to me. my hands curled into fists and my elbows tensed ready to become weapons. don't invade my private space, i thought or i will kill you. my eyes looked straight ahead but i watched them from the corners of my vision. one came close and my knees dropped ready to spring if needed. they probably were just 'normal', decent men. but i saw them as would be rapists.

i feel so hopeless as a woman in india. i am disgusted, angry, frustrated, in tears and much more. but somehow the spirit of this young woman gives me hope that change will come to my land. hoping that bombay handles it differently than delhi did.

glad that it is sunday and the demolition crew have the day off.

Desperately missing...

Ten days after returning from Italy my mind still goes back to it and I yearn to be back. Its been a really busy coming back. After the year beginning in a way where I barely managed to get much accomplished I feel an urgency to get things done and its going mostly ok. I am working on the second draft of my fantasy novel and am determined to get it done before my daughter returns from her last term in Innsbruck. Three people have read the first layer of the memory I finished before I left for Italy and they all felt themselves drawn into the story, wanting to read on and know what happened next. It was so scary sending out such a raw memory but their response has been reassuring. Despite seeing the worst of me in the memory they seem to still like me - and thats really a wonderful feeling. Hoping to interact with one or two of them more and move into the next layer. 

In my first week of work I pushed the pace and moved. Later I analysed the hours I spent doing different things and figured what I need to change. Me - a spontaneous worker seems to be actually making schedules and wanting to reach goals. 

But still everyday I wake up thinking that I wish I was back on that holiday. 

Some of the things I miss 

• Having 21 uninterrupted days with Deepak. Its been so long since we were stuck together like we were there. I actually had apprehensions before we left about it. I am so used to being alone and enjoying it and I wondered if we would fight everyday. But it was a dream being together - easy to adjust and enjoy our differing needs. Of course we had arguments and expectations but but, but, but... they were few and minor. Most moments were pure bliss.
• I miss the five days of training in Catania. The anticipation and excitement. The dread of not making it through sessions, not following the fast paced Sensei's, not being good enough, not having anyone to talk to - and then finding that all those fears were nuts. The breakfasts alone where I ate carefully thinking of the four hours of training. The high after each day and the bus ride back, I was the first to be dropped off. Freezing granitas from the little shop just outside the lane to our little hotel - which had to be gulped down as they melted so fast in the burning heat. Our large room with a sunny balcony where I could dry out my keiko gi. Transcribing the sessions the best i could and of course having Deepak in the room waiting for me. Resting my back for a couple of hours and then the exploring walks, wonderful Sicilian pasta and wine dinners.   Slowing down. Talking and just being. I miss the bus driver. His warm, chubby face that knew me after the second day. 
• I miss how when I asked how far something was and I always was told five minutes or right around here when it actually was about twenty minutes away. I miss - when I and the travel agency had different ideas on when I should be picked up for the drop off at the airport - how the man agreed to my time so easily 'You want 12:45, ok'. He made a pencil mark on his list but later that day a note was slipped under my door. 'Pick up time - 12:15'.  He just did it his way. We laughed and later found how glad we were for that extra half hour at Catania airport. 
• I miss the traffic and the lack of rules or the not following of them.
• I miss, even, the crazy, stressful chaos at Catania airport and the immense pleasure of making our flight.
• I miss Florence. I miss Florence. I miss Florence. Yes, that requires another post. But every corner a wonderful surprise and so much life - past, present and I imagine future.
• I miss our spontaneous decisions on where to go and what to do and Deepak and my argument over whether to get a drink at Piazza Repubblica or find a little cafe in some forgotten lane. He won out and we had that drink there. I grouched at first but ended up having that moment etched into my memory, there to retrieve whenever I want. And of course I drank both his and my drink and was tipsy for the rest of the evening.
• I miss the sad look on the waiters faces when I could not finish my meal. Their asking did I not like it and the smile of relief when I said it was great but I was too full.
• I miss the gasping surprise of seeing David in the Academia, Venus's birth in the Uffizi, the Mercury bronze in the Bargello, the seemingly forgotten contorted face with green moss growing out of its mouth at Buboli gardens. I miss the awe I felt every time i saw the Duomo even though we lived right round the corner and every path we took passed it. I miss the bells and even more the doors.
• I miss deciding between getting a gelato or a granita. I miss the flavours I sampled and even more the flavors I could not.
• I miss the overwhelming emotions I felt as I sat with the last supper and the crucification on the other wall - which stayed with me deep into the next morning.
• I miss Villa Sostaga, the view, the absolute silence, the long, long dinner overlooking the lake so far down. The day turning to night as we ate and the arrangement of lights on the other side of the lake. I miss wondering what they saw when they looked to our side. I miss  the cute dog from Vienna at the next table and how he did not like Romeo the house dog who walked around making sure all was going as well as it could. I miss the plump waitress's smile and sad goodbye.
• I miss seeing Shibble and walking the streets of Innsbruck after 30 years. The hasty day in Salzburg spent lazily wandering through the unknown city.
• I miss Sirmione, and hotel Pace - right on the lake. Lazing on the jetty for hours. Slowing down, slowing down and then slowing down more. That one day that held a thousand in it.

Rushed rambly, rambly post. Hertz in Milan still has to be dealt with and I wish I had handled that experience better but, but, but... that just added balance and richness to an almost perfect holiday that I can, paradoxically, miss even more because it was not perfect.

The holiday and Italy were fantastic. But what I really want to do as I miss them is find the essence, the shape, the form of that holiday and retain it here in my days in Singy. Lets see where that desire goes.

Back Home

I returned home on National day. Entry at Changi reminded me how much I am spoiled by singaporean efficiency. Airports in Italy were chaotic and though I love chaos and desperately miss it sometimes here in Singy; at airports I like the reliable order that Changi provides. I know how much time I will take to check in, get through immigration, walk to my gate and clear security. Italian airports on the other hand were unpredictable and nightmarish. 

Catania particularly was a rude shock. The check in line snaked and snaked like an endless serpent whose the mouth had lost awareness of its tail. People tried to break lines and sneak in and though there were supposed to be eight counters open only two were manned. The line moved as slowly as a snail out on a leisurely, sunday stroll. We took 65 mins to get to the counter and the harried check in person frowned as she dealt with us and was irritated when we asked her the way to security. We had a half hour before our gate closed. 

The security line was even longer and we kept glancing at the time as the line crept and curled, stopped suddenly for minutes and then moved a foot or two. We made it to the flight only to find somebody had occupied our seats!

Luckily the rest of our travel was on the road or rail track and we had only to be at one other airport on our last flight back. Malpensa Milano. We expected that to be a breeze since we were flying SQ and Deepak had managed to upgrade us to business. But a bizzare experience awaited us. 

When we arrived at the check-in counter there were only two people in the line before us but each was taking an unusual amount of time to check in. We looked at each other wondering why but we had plenty of time. The airport was buzzing and I could feel the stress in the air but maybe it was just my own.

Our turn. She smiles and begins clicking on her keypad. A frown appears on her face and puzzled she asks, 'Did you fly in on the 20th on SQ?'

'Yes.'

'Did you change the ticket?'

'Only to upgrade.' Deepak replies.

'What's the problem?' I ask.

'There is a sequencing problem. The system shows you did not use the first ticket and so it's not allowing me to use the second,' she says clicking away on the keypad and talking to her colleagues in Italian. They smile amused. I love the way Italians seem to deal with things that don't go as they are supposed to. With unworried, knowing smiles.

'Did you really fly in on the 21st?' she asks again.

'Here we are.' Deepak says still smiling.

'Check the immigration stamp.' I reply.

She turns the pages to the visa page and looks up, 'Where is it?'

Shocked we look to see no stamp. I try to pull the passport out of her hand but she holds on. Deepak gently says, 'Can I look for it?'

She hands over the passport and he is shocked to see no stamp. Its his passport and he turns the pages but he's travelled so much that the pages are full of stamps and he can't find the stamp. Then he asks for my less stamped one and all three of us are relieved when he finds it.

She calls over the supervisor who seems to not be able to focus on one issue since many problems are coming up. She comes to us and wanders away. Finally when there are 40 mins left on the clock she comes over again and apologises. The supervisor does not have any success trying to resolve the issue either and calls the Milan SQ office. She informs us that the system shows we checked in at Singy but instead of it then showing flown it shows notification. We disappeared according to the system after check-in. 'We teleported,' I say, but without any hint of a smile.

Many minutes pass slowly. The supervisor shrugs helplessly when my husband asks if we will make the flight. Stress levels rising in him too now. 'Our visa expires today,' I say. Fantasies of being led away to some strange holding cell and classified as illegal come in.

'Did you call Singapore? Somebody is working on it in Singapore it seems,' the supervisor says to us looking perplexed. Finally they create a new ticket for us and hand over the boarding passes and invitation to use the lounge and tell us to go to the fast track security. We run with the boarding passes and passports but see no security signs in the direction she pointed us towards. Finally i ask a security officer where it is. He points us to an escalator going downwards where a sweet man who notices my stressed out expression soothes me and passes us through in seconds. Deepak who never drinks says, 'I need a drink today.'

Phew! Yes, Changi has spoiled me.

Three days back now and we have tackled the mounds of laundry of the trip, looked and re-looked at pictures of the wonderful holiday and eaten the much missed east asian food. Tomorrow Deepak returns to the office and I am contemplating how and where to start on my work.

I draw up a sort of schedule but the number of hours I want to work per week on the several things that call to me far exceed the number of hours I can work and still retain sanity. I guess i will find my balance during the week.