Colored Lens: Journey of Self- Exploration

By Rashmeet Kaur

This book captures the journey of self exploration of a 27 year old divorcee. After losing everything in her life , she runs away from all her pain by going on random travels. Running away from the world brought her closer to herself and her passion. Finding her true self solves the messed up puzzle of her life. She discovers our life runs pretty much in black and white in our heads. All we have to do is put on the colored lenses of our passion, love and dreams to enjoy life in truest of spirits.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Aug 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9789388930888

Rashmeet Kaur

Rashmeet Kaur is a social activist, feminist and a dreamer. A supply chain enthusiast and product planner by profession, she wants to change the way the world sees women! She is the co-founder at Lean In in India, an online global community started by Sheryl Sandberg, COO at Facebook to empower women. She leads this community of thousands of women with her example by working in unconvential heavy industry ! Her writings potray very strong headed women who are not scared to be vulnerable.

Book preview

Denial and

Disturbance

I picked up my bag and bashed the door as I walked out. He sat there inside gaping at my reaction and my sudden change in behaviour. The instant I banged the door, my eyes popped open. I got up to that thought and came to the realization of how badly I’d wanted to bang the door on his face. I wanted him to get it in the face without saying a word. This dream was a repetitive one, like numerous others on my list.

After a while, the morning felt beautiful and light, without any guilt of being forced into anything by a disgusting figure of a man.

I happily roamed in my pyjamas without the fear of being shouted at or taunted upon by him. Though I still wore it every day back then without giving a damn, I hated the conversation with him that followed my so-called ignorant behaviour.

As I sipped on my tea sitting on the balcony floor, nasty thoughts of drinking coffee with him every morning, forcibly, gave me a hint of pain in my head. This particular feeling took me back in time by about 6 months. We’d sat in the balcony on the top floor of his three-floored mansion. The mansion he’d built with his parents’ money to ensure his bachelorhood never lacked parties and his future would have a good looking show-dollhouse-keeper as a wife. We sat there every morning after the previous nights’ forced sex sessions.

After the first day of what would follow every day for the rest of my life back then, I’d gather some positivity looking at the sunrise daily.

Awkwardly, I would go inside to get myself some morning tea when he added seeing me get up – I like my coffee with extra sugar and milk. As if he had an unsaid right over me.

Excuse me? I asked, looking perplexed.

I said, I like my coffee with extra sugar and milk, he said again, getting up to claim his tall self on my short physique, with a fake smile.

And then he’d added – It’s strange. Everyone said you were the smart one with brains and all.

I am sorry? What? Neither do I drink coffee nor do I make one for anyone on demand. But if we are discussing choices and opinions, unlike last night to get to know each other – I like my tea black, no sugar with a dash of lemon, I’d said, turning away.

He got me by twisting my arm and pulling me towards himself. That mouth is meant for kissing me and not blabbering. Keep the blabbers for your office.

That was my first morning after my wedding. I came back from my mini hibernation of sad thoughts when my phone rang. It was my closest friend, Wamika. She had not had the chance to interact with me as a result of my unplanned wedding.

You have got to have a bloody good explanation for each and every update. Six months earlier you’d dropped bombs saying you are getting hitched, with no invite for anyone you knew, and yesterday you drop a text saying you are divorced. What the fuck is up with you? she shouted from the other side.

Well, you will have to dedicate a few hours to patiently listen to me, I told her as I finished my tea, gearing up for what lay ahead of me.

Today 12 pm. Our favourite coffee shop, she said.

Definitely. That’s a plan. I knew I had to let out all the melodrama now.

Before hanging up, she asked out of curiosity – How are you by the way?

Torn by that question, I replied, Divorced. Disowned. And detached. She didn’t have a follow-up question to that.

Emotionally detached was my exact state. I remember being a very innocent young teenager, who believed in the beautiful idea of love that led to an ever-lasting relationship and happiness. Seven years into my twenties, I had no desire whatsoever of fooling myself into love, which would indirectly mean slavery and dependency.

Girls in India are not brought up as individuals. All our lives we are dependent on our fathers, then boyfriends and after that, our husbands.

Dependence is the worst evil of all. Yet its effect is the most neglected and undermined. Our notions of a post-modern upbringing exclude the independent beings of women. We are always seen and treated as someone to be taken care of. This feeling is imbibed into us from such a young age that we start doubting ourselves. I realized this when I couldn’t figure out my basic errands after my divorce.

I had always wanted to leave my maternal home before I got married, and live independently to learn about life. But my father never really agreed to that. I did propose that at home many a time, but every time I was shut out with a reality check, well wrapped in hypocrisy and fake concern. In fact, I was told I was too precious and valuable to be living on my own. I was born a girl, so I deserved to live with all the comfort and facilities.

It was later that I realized that was a product of responsibility and not love. Because, had it been love, their 26-year-old, precious gemstone of a daughter wouldn’t have been traded to patriarchal monsters, and then forgotten about, forever.

It was devastating to see how quickly my father disowned me when I declared my divorce. The first question he asked me was – Is there someone else? Is the other guy we got rid of after so much effort back in your life? It was so obvious for him to assume that there was another guy to give me enough courage to walk out of my marriage. The idea of it being my own freedom never even occurred to him.

Why was it that our decisions are assumed to be taken under the influence of the men in our lives? If we muster enough courage to stand up for ourselves, it is assumed by default that this courage comes from being loved by a man. I replied to my dad bluntly – Like every other time in the last 15 years, this is not for a boy or a man. This is for myself, and my sanity and happiness. I do have a life of my own. I too have my own desires.

Your shrewd behaviour and nonsensical courage that comes from watching movies has taken away our peace of mind for years. Stop making this life hellish for us anymore with your existence.

Traumatized by his statement, I’d hung up. The idea of me being such a burden on the most important people in my life, made me feel like an orphan. I had never imagined the day I claim my breath as mine, the idea of my existence would make their life hellish.

That night, my world was disrupted because a home, and everyone I had ever loved, had left me without warning. The anchor of our parents that we are all born with, was taken away by just the idea of me taking a stand for myself in the form of a divorce. That night whilst crying, I patted my own back. I told myself that I will be born again post this. As a human this time, rather than baggage or responsibility. The idea of not being anyone’s daughter, sister or wife was liberating in its own way. I had no unsaid identity or roles to play. The lack of expectations made me jump out of happiness. What lay ahead of me was a nameless journey of fighting against everyone who had given me my previous identity. It was like gearing up for standing up against myself.

As I entered the coffee shop, I felt so happy within. I hadn’t gone to a cafe or a bar in over a year now. Apparently, I was engaged and eventually married, so my license to such places got expired before time and without warning. I saw my angel-like friend sitting there waiting for me, sipping her favourite coffee. She was younger than me but had always had the patience to hear out my whines. Maybe she needed that coffee to hear me out completely.

So I walked in and without even uttering a word, hugged her from behind. She locked her arms into mine and I had instant tears. Ever since this drama of my divorce had started, I hadn’t shed a single tear. There was just a general gloom in the air, yet no tears to cleanse the pain. We didn’t let go of each other for a couple of minutes. I needed it more than ever now.

As she finally let go off me, she said, "So where to