I belong

...to fragments of lust, love, anxiety and delusion

(Image Credits: Shwetha Harsha, ChutneyMix)

This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, each of us examined the concept of ‘BELONGING’. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.

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Blue veins stood out eerily on her thin, jaundiced hands as I sat stroking her palm on a hot afternoon. The brightness from the window above her bed lit up the tiny room, but its pink walls continued to look withered. The air seemed exhausted, just like her breath. She could hardly move. Treatment stopped working months ago, but my grandmother showed no signs of giving up.

To the strength in her futile fight and to my devastating acceptance of her limited time, I belong.

Evening arrived. We all gathered in the hall to have tea. My parents sat on the longer side of our new L-shaped sofa. Almost immediately, they spoke about a new “biodata” of a prospective husband…for me. From their dialogue, I understood that “he” had a modest income but was from a “well-to-do” family. Five minutes in, they opened the astrology app on my father’s phone to check if his stars aligned with mine. Lo behold, they did. Then, for about twenty minutes, they discussed how “settled” my life would be if this match worked out and finally pointed the phone towards me. They showed me his horoscope first and then his picture. I felt nothing, but I said, “Yes, share my profile”.

To the frightening indifference in my voice, I belong.

Late at night, I stood on my dark balcony thinking about this potential future husband. The biodata had finally made it to my phone. I started decoding it. The erratic spacing bothered me. But the message itself was pretty standard. Details about raasi, gotra, pada, nakshatra, janma stana and a bunch of other things I did not understand or care about were listed before the classic “expectations section”. They were looking for a “girl with good values and family-oriented”. Ugh, a bad sentence with a missing word, again. But at least they did not mention the need for a “good-looking girl with fair skin.” I remember smiling and then sighing.

To the horribly low bar that has started to make me happy, I belong.

On some days, the lack of love and intimacy does weigh on me. I find myself craving the heat of another body. I look for eyes that will lock themselves on mine with conviction and loyalty. I think about the person with hands that have spaces to fit my fingers perfectly. I hate sharing my space, but sometimes I wonder if I like my space because I love being by myself, or if I’m too scared to admit that nobody else wants to be with me. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to hug and hold? To kiss and cuddle? To love? But is it really worth it? What would it cost me?

To this lustful despair and perpetual dilemma, I belong.

Naturally, when the desire for men and people in general exhausts me, I tell myself they don’t matter. They are not worth my time and energy. I focus instead on money. I tell myself I want to make it more than anything in the world. More than love. But I am my father’s daughter. And the way I force myself to feel about people is how he feels about money. “It will come and go, but people are important,” he says. But people are assholes. They have cheated him, betrayed him and have taken advantage of his non-confrontational heart time and time again. Still, he finds ways to forgive and trust again.

To his annoying, unwavering faith in the goodness of people, I belong.

“God is there,” my grandmother told me when I went to say goodbye to her. “You are a blessed child. You will get a good husband and a good job, with a good salary. Don’t worry,” she assured me in her low voice. She had sensed that I was anxious. So in a single blessing, she addressed all the voids in my life.

To the selflessness of this dying woman, I belong.

I belong.

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Here are other essays by fellow Bangalore Substack writers on belonging:

• Happiness & a sense of belonging by Aarti Krishnakumar, Aarti’s Substack

• Virtual Embrace by Shwetha Harsha, ChutneyMix

• Belonging Is A Many Shaped Word by Priyanka Sacheti, A Home For Homeless Thoughts

• We are all mad here by Gowri N Kishore, About Murder, She Wrote.

• Food and Belonging by Rakhi Anil

• Ambiguity of Belonging by Mihir Chate, Mihir’s Substack

• The Complexity of Belonging by Avinash Shenoy, Off the walls

• #14: On Belonging by Siddhesh Raut, Shana, Ded Shana

• Where am I? by Abhiram R, Abhiram’s Newsletter

• Across the Seven Seas the Ocean Waits by Amit Charles, AC Notes

• The Canteen by Shruthi, Will you be my Friend?

• Somewhere I Belong by Meghana Ramachandra, One True Sentence

• Unknown Citizen by Nidhishree Venugopal, The General in her Labyrinth