When i put my book down for a chat

I have been trying to read this book a friend gifted on my birthday this time. But I am being driven around by Scooby who is as good as a story. He has never really been away from Bali, spent his entire life here and lives in the same compound as his family.

Scooby made my day today. I had planned a quiet day at the beach, reading and snoring away. "Try surfing," he said. My eyes gleamed. And so i did. Many attempts yet failed to stand on the board for more than 10 seconds. I gave up after an hour.

Sat down to read "Frankenstein in Bagdad".  A smiling, cheeky lady caught my attention. I asked her if i could click her.

Monik agreed but demanded i buy her trinklets. I obliged. Monik is a mother of two. She is from the hills of Bali but lives near Caangu to make a living. Her husband too sells things on the beach. For the next one hour we shared secrets and laughed and I enjoyed a good massage too. We were joined by Monalisa and Sarah, and another whose I apologetically forget. I had to let them go as they had work to do, I was holidaying.

For the next hour I tried reading but my mind drifted back to these women. All of them beautiful, strong, flattering, yet real.

I realised all of us have our Frankenstein, someone or something we create for reasons unknown, beyond their ugliness.

Very soon I will meet Rina's family, in her village near Ubud. I will have more stories to share.

What are you looking for?

Well, this is not the regular question asked on dating sites nowadays. This is, for a change, a question I am asking to my self and will ask for the next few days in the island of thousand temples.

I just arrived in Bali, somewhat taken by the beauty of its beaches, the ardourous appeal of its rice fields, the speaking walls of its ancient temples, and (secretly) 'Eat, pray, love' -- the movie. Yet, it is not "Love" that I seek here.

Do I seek healing then? Maybe. Do I seek adventure? Maybe. Do I seek beauty? Maybe. Do I seek fun? Maybe.

Do I know what I seek? Maybe not.

For today, I closed it with some Bintang beer and Pepes Ikan (banana leaf wrapped steamed tuna), in a resort overlooking a agricultural field.

....Then caught up on 2 nights of sleep.

(No pics today as didnt really venture out. I promise many from tomorrow)

MAY WE PROTECT EACH OTHER

MAY WE PROTECT EACH OTHER

So, I send 12 rakhis home this time too. Nah actually 1 more than usual. The extra one for my little, soon-to-turn 6 nephew.  In a few paragraphs from here, I will address that addition.

For the clueless, Rakhis are strings (often decorated) tied on the forearms of brothers seeking or thanking them for the protection they provide to our beings. Us, here, meaning us girls/women as sisters. In some cultures in India, it is also tied to fathers and uncles.

The 12 rakhis (minus 1), I send, are for my own older brother and cousins and family friends.

 Yes I send them every year, mostly without fail. And I wonder every year why I do it. I would love to believe I am my own protector, the only person on whose arms I should tie the string is myself  (like the latest Ford Ecosport advert). But I still sent, and probably will continue sending.

This time, though, while posting them, I found my answer and here I raise another question. Let me talk about the answer first, that one being more important. I usually send them rakhis because they like it, they feel loved and respected, and may be important, and are reminded of their "duty" towards me.

Now, my 6-year-old, little one. Dennis, I will address all of its through you. I don't need a special day to express this to you, but I will take the opportunity.
Please know: I can protect you, if you need; I will protect you, if you need.  At your 6 and when your 60!

I stress on the "need" and mention the "can" and "will" because many times you may doubt I can and that I will. Because, your aunt is a Woman. She has been "seeking" your dad's protection for ever, so for you to doubt her capabilities, mental and physical, is but natural.  But, please know, when she sends those raksha bandhans, she is making a statement too. She is promising her brothers of her constant support and "protection". I know of many friends who do extend those gestures, whether they get it in return or not. Financially, materially, emotionally. They will bring the world down to ensure their loved ones are safe and protected.

So its not your job alone.

A question to you now, or when you begin understanding what this piece is all about: Will you in turn, some day, tie one on mine or on Mom's and Grand-ma's may be? Even if you begin questioning the idea of Rakhi or Raksha Bandhan, in some point in time, I will be happy if you do. My brothers may or may not, but will you?

It will make happy, for once at least, to be recognised as an equal. The one who shares responsibilities of "protection" and support, besides other things, in her own home.

Will you then do something to make me happy?

I smile.

LOVE
-- Rosemary Marandi

MAY WE PROTECT EACH OTHER

So, I send 12 rakhis home this time too. Nah actually 1 more than usual. The extra one for my little, soon-to-turn 6 nephew.  In a few paragraphs from here, I will address that addition.

For the clueless, Rakhis are strings (often decorated) tied on the forearms of brothers seeking or thanking them for the protection they provide to our beings. Us, here, meaning us girls/women as sisters. In some cultures in India, it is also tied to fathers and uncles.

The 12 rakhis (minus 1), I send, are for my own older brother and cousins and family friends.

 Yes I send them every year, mostly without fail. And I wonder every year why I do it. I would love to believe I am my own protector, the only person on whose arms I should tie the string is myself  (like the latest Ford Ecosport advert). But I still sent, and probably will continue sending.

This time, though, while posting them, I found my answer and here I raise another question. Let me talk about the answer first, that one being more important. I usually send them rakhis because they like it, they feel loved and respected, and may be important, and are reminded of their "duty" towards me.

Now, my 6-year-old, little one. Dennis, I will address all of its through you. I don't need a special day to express this to you, but I will take the opportunity.
Please know: I can protect you, if you need; I will protect you, if you need.  At your 6 and when your 60!

I stress on the "need" and mention the "can" and "will" because many times you may doubt I can and that I will. Because, your aunt is a Woman. She has been "seeking" your dad's protection for ever, so for you to doubt her capabilities, mental and physical, is but natural.  But, please know, when she sends those raksha bandhans, she is making a statement too. She is promising her brothers of her constant support and "protection". I know of many friends who do extend those gestures, whether they get it in return or not. Financially, materially, emotionally. They will bring the world down to ensure their loved ones are safe and protected.

So its not your job alone.

A question to you now, or when you begin understanding what this piece is all about: Will you in turn, some day, tie one on mine or on Mom's and Grand-ma's may be? Even if you begin questioning the idea of Rakhi or Raksha Bandhan, in some point in time, I will be happy if you do. My brothers may or may not, but will you?

It will make happy, for once at least, to be recognised as an equal. The one who shares responsibilities of "protection" and support, besides other things, in her own home.

Will you then do something to make me happy?

I smile.

LOVE
-- Rosemary Marandi

Your Leftover

The sea in the darkness of the night
The receding water; drawn to the moon somewhere else
The awe inspiring skyline, home to someone else
From my side of the world, they are not too far away

I could touch the waters from where I sit
I sleep under the starry night
I walk on what other men throw away -
their dreams, their secrets, their pride
yet mine is the path you would never want to walk

When morning comes, when the ride faces me, I will begin
That journey towards you --
clean your glass house, bear your scorn,
make your food, protect your being
I will still be your stranger, a person from the dirt near the sea

I will return to the footpath, where only I can be
Stare at the moon, wish it was my bread
you will silently sometimes put your spares somewhere near me,  and feel happy
I will wake up to a moon, I can no longer devour
I will always, yes always be your leftover

The rain you sing to, sinks me
The sun you wish for, burns my will
I see you looking at me from your window up there
I don't wonder what you think, do you care what I imagine?
Yet I will tell you - I imagine being your equal
I wait for the sea
-- Rosemary Marandi

Silence of Words

Silence of words

You hear them all -- The sound of water, the sound of a window responding to the breeze,  the sound of an empty road, the sound of a sleeping footpath, the sound of silence. I have often wondered what is it that is so magical about a silent night. Poets wrote odes to it, Revolutionaries used it, lovers devoured it, thieves stole it.

I am but a slave to it. Tonight, every night. So lying still , I slipped into introspection, retrospection. Introspection,  wise men say, is looking at the mirror, and retrospection, I say, is crying over spilt milk.

I refuse, tonight, to be lulled to sleep, refuse to introspect or retrospect. But I give in to its power to empower. Words! Strange a silent night should empower words. Just like love should empower the heart, like tears should empower the feet. But they do.

Words! To hear them is to believe,  we tear at them, want them, desire them, greed them, sometimes dread them, but want them to spill nonetheless. The drought of them, kills. A flood of them , kills. To woman's heart , some words have the power to numb.

I am not numb tonight. Not any night, anymore.  It's been long...

-Rosemary Marandi

STOP RAPING ME

 I feel raped each and everytime....
Stop it! before I loathe the touch of any of you
Even the ones that love and care
Because all I feel everytime, is hurt and despair and pain that is ever increasing

Hell, Don' t equate my honour to all else you can steal, beg and borrow
Because all else you can weigh
Don't try to test your manhood on me, I am not a guinea pig
Because I have spirit that will never restore

I may sell my body every day, You still have no right to rape me
I may strip myself in a crowd of hundreds, You still don't have the right to rape me.
I may be you bete noire, spit venom on you, You still have no right to rape me
You might claim to love me and I may be your bed-mate, You still have no right to rape me!

She lies there, defiled and beaten
And I see a mirror image of me
With every counting of her breath, I feel something dying in me
And yet I will live on, because I have a battle to fight and a revenge to take


 Rosemary Marandi