It's . . . Complicated

Ok. Big, BIG revelation.

I am addicted to the "Housewives of Beverly Hills."

I take that BACK.

Delete, Delete, Delete.

I am addicted to the whole entire "Housewives" enterprise developed by Bravo.

You can judge me.

Oh, you can judge me.

But where else can I get that kind of unmitigated drama? Where else can I see women pulling each others' weaves out ? (Double Whammy - NJ AND Atlanta) Where else can I see a woman out her own sister for being an alcoholic on national television (coincidentally, in the season finale - way to end with a bang) and telling that same sister that she is dead to her? (Beverly Hills) Where else can I see how the other half live in mansions that could fit my entire neighborhood into the back garden? ( part of Orange County, ALL of Beverly Hills, a little bit of NJ, some of NY and some of Atlanta)

It's an unadulterated guilty pleasure. And sometimes, it's not such a pleasure - I admit that too. It can be almost painful. But for whatever reason, I have been sucked in.

In the season finale of the "Housewives of Beverly Hills," I was so disgusted - absolutely mortified, actually - when I saw the behavior of one of the women, Kyle Richards - as she verbally attacked her older sister, Kim Richards, who sat there in tears. She announced on national television that her sister was "sick" and had an alcohol problem. They are both aunts to Paris and Nikki Hilton - and both were child actresses.

(Where am I going with this post? This is not a Masala Chica-esque post, you might be thinking).

And you're right. I usually don't talk about what a jackass I am and the stupid shit I watch in the moments of free time which I have.

But I sat there and completely judged this woman.

How could she? I thought.

And then something happened to me this past weekend . . . .

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My parents had come to visit from New Jersey for the weekend. I was stressed. I wanted to see them, but so many things were running through my head.

1) I had just returned from a business trip.
2) I had to turn around on Sunday and do it all over again in another city.
3) My family missed me. And I missed them. And I was really dreading the trip away.
4) My parents would be leaving for India shortly after my visit. Neither of them is in the best health and it has been weighing on me - the time away and the stress it might place on them.
5) Work is stressing me out.

It was all so freaking overwhelming and it was really messing me up.

On Saturday morning, my mom did something that annoyed me. Not really a big deal, but it pissed me off.

And this is the part where I am just so ashamed. More ashamed than about the fact that I watch the "Housewives" series (which you know means that I am pretty mortified).

My mother did something that upset me which I could have normally handled. However, with two kids screaming in the background, me trying to make up for weeks of laundry that had been left undone, and the heavy guilt that was weighing on me that I was going to be gone AGAIN - something in me snapped.

It just freaking snapped.

I found myself being downright nasty. Telling my mother how she should have handled this differently and how I couldn't count on her to support me.

Terrible, terrible things really.

And the reality was - that what I was saying had little, if anything to do with what just happened that set me off in the first place.

I can attribute it to stress from a situation I sometimes feel like I have little control over. I definitely think what was coming to the surface were memories of things from the past. Pains from a time long ago. Things to do with nothing on the surface but which had everything to do with all of the things that are submerged somewhere I don't often tread.

Or it could just be that I'm an asshole.

The worse thing was that the worse I felt, the worse I projected that on to her. She didn't deserve it. Not then, for sure. If I wanted to talk about things from the past, I could have talked to her about it differently.

But at that moment, a wave of SOMETHING - something that I don't always want to acknowledge - hit me like a ton of bricks.

I wasn't rational Kiran.

I wasn't rational anything.

And I was ashamed.

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I made up with my mom that day. While my parents' time with me was cut short by the fact that I had to fly out mid-day Superbowl Sunday (who effing plans a conference the day AFTER Superbowl Sunday?) I got to spend some really great quality time with them.

So how does this come back to the "Housewives"? For real?

I guess the only thing I can say is that when it comes to family - and you are outside looking in - nothing is always quite what it seems and that there are dynamics that play into so many aspects of your communication.

If you look at communication that happens within your family - sometimes the response or answer a particular question gets may seem unwarranted when you look at it with a filter on. But when you start to let the many things that really, really make us all who we are and underline our identities within our families - it starts to make sense.

Not saying I shouldn't see a counselor or anything and live more in the present - but it makes sense.

So cheers to you.

Cheers to hoping that you watch more intelligent television than me.

And cheers to hoping that you don't eff up the way I did this last weekend.

(You know this already, but I am sorry, Ma. Love you.)

Namaste,
Kiran

The In Between

I am not the most religious person. I believe in something. I just don't always know what that is.

I don't think that not knowing makes me bad. Or makes me less worthy.

Although I am sure there are those who disagree. To be more clear, I KNOW that there are those who disagree.

I was born Hindu. It is a religion, like most others, with when practiced with good intent and true faith, espouses love, acceptance and forgiveness. I believe that there are flaws, as there are with most organized religions.

But being Hindu has been a part of my identity that I could not shake, just as I could not shake the tan skin that belied the Indian heritage of my family.

I can't wash it off - just as I can't change the tone of my flesh. It is immersed in my culture, the seams which make up the fabric of my family.

It was and has been a part of my identity, though you can probably question how "legit" I am in terms of actual practice.

I recall having questions about religion early on. I attended the epic number of "pujas" or religious ceremonies, that my parents and family seemed to hold each weekend - sometimes multiples on one weekend.

That's a lot of praying.

It's especially a lot of praying for a child who could not understand the Sanskrit readings of our family priests, yet had to sit for hours, laboriously feigning interest in something I could not understand - while shamelessly daydreaming about my crushes at school or how I might get the curls to lay flatter against my head.

My mind was elsewhere.

I recall hearing from a friend in high school that I was going to hell. We were reading the Divine Comedy - more specifically - "Dante's Inferno" - in Advanced Placement English. I was having trouble grasping some of the levels at which Dante Alighieri had allocated some of the true despots, heathens and unworthy to their specific levels, or circles of Hell.

I described the trouble I had understanding the idea of "Limbo" - which was the first circle of Hell as described by Dante. This is where all the unbaptized and the virtuous pagans, who had not sinned, but did not accept Christ, were actively punished.

Having been fairly sheltered thus far from such ideas, at the age of 17, I was startled when my friend said, "That's ridiculous!"

I was not startled by the fact that she said, "That's ridiculous!" but in what she said afterwards . . .

"Everyone knows there is no such thing as limbo for people like you. You are just going straight to the deepest levels of Hell."'

Silence.


But you know me. I don't usually stay silent for long.

"Really? So if I rape and if I steal and if I murder but I repent and accept Christ - I would be in better shape than I am today?" I asked.


She looked at me as if I was crazy and said the words that left a very lasting impression on me.

"Well, that's just the way it works. Everyone knows it."

Funny that. I guess I hadn't.


(And just for the record, our friendship kind of fizzled out after that).

My thoughts ran through my muddled mind (as directly after AP English, we had Organic Chemistry - so my mind was already a jumbled mess)

"But this is how I was born. Why would God punish me for that?"


"Even if I convert, would God punish the rest of my family? What kind of idea of Heaven is that for me if I don't have my family with me? Even if I convince my family here - what about my family in India? What about the ones who are already gone?"


"So many parts of the world have never been exposed to Christianity. Was God's intent to banish them directly to that circle?"


(And no, I am not talking about the world today, where online mechanisms and ever-expanding missionary efforts are taking place - but the world we lived in for much longer, where in fact, Christianity was centrally focused in Europe).


"Did that mean God did not want (for at least a few centuries) - Non Europeans to be granted access to Heaven?"


I have had friends who have discussed conversion with me. In a safe, approachable way. And I have considered it. I think there are two quotes by Gandhi (who per this definition, would also be confined to that first circle of Hell, a thought which completely boggles MY sometimes less than lucid mind) that really define how I feel about the matter.

In regards to conversion, Gandhi said at his famous speech at Harijan in 1935:

"I believe that there is no such thing as conversion from one faith to another in the accepted sense of the word.

It is a highly personal matter for the individual and his God. I may not have any design upon my neighbor as to his faith, which I must honor even as I honor my own.

Having reverently studied the scriptures of the world I could no more think of asking a Christian or a Musalman, or a Parsi or a Jew to change his faith than I would think of changing my own."

So, while sometimes I remain confused and sometimes I believe that I am just a "little bit of everything" and for now, that works for me. And I find my own truth and faith in that and it works for me.

Because, similar to Gandhi, I also believe that when you take the best parts of religion and evaluate them and leave the noise behind, that there is truth in all of them:

"I came to the conclusion long ago … that all religions were true and also that all had some error in them, and whilst I hold by my own, I should hold others as dear as Hinduism. So we can only pray, if we are Hindus, not that a Christian should become a Hindu … But our innermost prayer should be a Hindu should be a better Hindu, a Muslim a better Muslim, a Christian a better Christian."

Gandhi, (Young India: January 19, 1928)

You don't have to agree with me. I am not seeking validation of where I stand. I am far from fundamental so I can handle a little discussion.

What I can't handle are absolutes that don't address the true nature of the reality that our world is not that black and white.

Hoping you all are close to your own truth.

Namaste,
Kiran