Control

In my mind I’ve written between 5 and 10 blogs.  This is the only one its allowed.

A week away from Christmas, I wrap up cost-considered gifts to put under the tree.  I’m one of the fortunate ones.  I’m an Indian woman who left her family, friends and culture.  My shocked, ashamed parents told people that knew them, I’d emigrated.  They could have hired someone to kill me.

I happen to be listening to a programme on BBC4 of which I’m a fan.  Desert Island Discs.  Kirsty Young is in conversation with Kylie Minogue.  Kirsty’s questions draw out laughs and revelations that delight and enthrall.  I’m not ashamed to admit to being naive about many things.  The interviewee’s musical taste always surprise, and occasionally leave me filled with regret.  My taste in everything, food, friends, books etc is eclectic, and I feel that there’s so much I’ve missed along my life’s road. 

Radio shows are edited/controlled.  As are our lives. 

I grew up in a very strict Indian environment.  Even when I was eighteen my television watching was restricted.  But when it came to radio, provided I cooked and cleaned (my mother was a home machinist), I was permitted to listen to the radio.  Whether it was Indian music or English, I had complete freedom.  Radio 1 was my absolute favourite as a teenager.  Remember Tony Blackburn?  Wonderful happy voice that came through the air waves, cheering up households filled with people who didn’t understand English.  The ones I knew weren’t living, just existed.  My childhood memories are extremes of light and dark.  Thankfully, no longer.

Louis Armstrong’s ‘What A Wonderful World’ is playing.  And indeed it is.  Living on this wonderful planet is a privilege.  We only have one life.  My thoughts are always on microcosm and macrocosm suffering around the world.  Where humans inflict pain through control/abuse, from parents over children or vice versa, abusive husbands/wives, to governments/dictatorships leaving those who care, feeling frustrated and helpless.  I want my writing to help.  I'm not the only writer who wants to make a difference. 

Many years on, I am still determined never to be a copy of my parents.  The Indian culture has some great values, one is respect.  Duty is a strange one.  There are many others I cover in my books.  Strangely though, the need to please my parents never leaves me.   'Echoes Across The Water', the Indian short stories published in India required a lot of adjusting because I didn’t want to offend anyone.  Plus I hoped to make my mum proud.

When I telephoned and told Mum about my success, her response was instantaneous. ‘Why can’t you get a proper paid job like your brother and sister?’