Mágico no oásis

I sit like an oasis. My torso representing the tall date palms and my legs forming a diamond shape. In the midst of the pool is the purest form of innocence. The luxury of purity is his alone. He plays. Not scared of the depth. Not worried about the locked shores. Not intimidated by the palms looming over him. He plays. He explores in that limited resource. But he still finds amusement and preoccupation there. He tries his hand at something and looks all around him. He looks up finally. Seeking approval, looking for a kind eye - a branch that will almost stoop over him and bless him. Let him know he is safe and he is right in his own little way. He pauses for a bit - reasons only known to him. Is he distracted? Did something else catch his attention? Or is he thinking? His little mind brimming with curiosity and holding true to its reputation - a sponge.

Meanwhile I look down. In my mind's eye I see what he sees now. But not after I equally deliberate and wonder at his curiosity. Does he love me? Does he feel safe? Does he trust me? Does he know he can trust me? If he does trust me, is that a burden or a boon?

A child's curiosity is as much fascinating as it is frightening to resolve. Those hungry eyes that latch on to yours and do not flinch because they are sure you have the answers. It is indeed a boon and a boost to the ego to know you have the answers. And when you don't, even though you won’t be judged, you are harsher upon your conscious than is allowed.

I rest my chin upon his head. It’s small and warm and has a comforting baby scent. The connect is instant. He grabs my fingers and plays and is almost giving me instructions how to use them. He stops and gazes into the infinite. Again that look and curiosity. Again I’m perturbed. What is in that little mind with a wild vast imagination? I almost want to scoop him up and rest him on my shoulder and comfort him into a long deep sleep. How cruel of me. All he wants to do is explore. The clock has barely started on his life here and I am already planning his nap. This time in the oasis I created for him, I can’t guarantee again or many times over. But it is important to him.

During the above train of thought, he has done something: created in the sands. And now he seeks my approval. He is an animal. He can sense my breath and heartbeat. He will know instantly if I am disapproving or fake or genuine; almost like he can smell it on me and he will feed off that sense. It is important that this phase be as transparent and genuine as can be. With care and love and unflinching attention I marvel at him and shower him with my approval. I don’t think I have ever cared enough to instantly commit so much of my time and energy to anything else as much as I did in this moment. My mind, my heart, my vision, my senses were all commanded by this little creature - this beautiful being.

As he smiles, gleefully giggles and latches on to me I feel a rush of relief and content. Relief that I created something beautiful for him and content that selfishly I had stolen that moment for me.

I know I am a Capoeirista when...

-                I dream of rodas and sequences
-                My hands automatically move on any surface as if I am playing the pandeiro or Djembe
-                I say 'obrigada' and 'ola' to random people at work
-                I respond to any sounds that's phonetic to 'Gata'
-                I check the internet for Capoeira updates, videos and pictures during crucial meetings
-                I start believing that a quixada or compasso can fix any arrogant fool @ work or elsewhere
-                All I do is talk about my class like it's the ONLY coolest  thing on this planet
-                I subconsciously look down on those not in capoeira and imagine they are missing out on something great (that's just plain wrong thought process)
-                All exclamations are 'whoopaaa' (my colleagues thought I had lost it)
-                My phone wall paper, ring tone, DP all is capoeiracentric
-                All birthday celebrations feel strange to me because I start singing 'parabens pra voce'
-                I listen to capoeira music on my ipod and have the expression of attaining Nirvana when probably those around me think it's time for my next psychiatric evaluation
-                I tell people I am a capoeirista and expect them to understand what that means. The failure of which makes me roll my eyes as if it calls for "Duh don't you know"
-                I disregard all other forms of physical activities, the gym and any other martial arts cuz capoeira is simply at its wholesome best
-                I consider myself a world musician and expect people to understand when I say 'yes I play berimbau, atabaque, pandeiro, agogo, caxixi.'
-                I start asking people for their apelidos and completely loose the concept of remembering and referring to people by their real names
-                When I come across a plan, a place, a holiday spot, a show or any damn thing all I can think of is whom to invite from class or to go with
-                My idea of redecoration and renovation turns into a capoeira design project (something my dad totally disapproves of)
-                Must must have yellow and green colors around me.
-                I start beaming at the Brazilian flag as if I were a citizen of that country
-                Suddenly I have total identity crisis and think I am a Brazilian trapped in an Indian body
-                My clothes are all about comfortable tracks, t-shirts, vests, tanks and anything I can wear to class and back home
-                Capoeira clothes take precedence over all other clothes when it comes to laundry
-                I cease beautifying myself or even bothering with a pedicure/ manicure cuz hell it's no use..
-                When headwraps are the new hair accessories
-                I like beer and guzzle it and often opt for beer over any other drink
-                I have had more barbequed chicken than anyone else in my circle
-                I spend more time in Khar-Bandra area than my own residential area or work place
-                I time my meetings, appointments, schedules, travels, holidays and everything else around capoeira class, rodas and trips
-                I visited Israel under the pretext of Capoeira and now am in love with the country. Seriously guys Israel never features on people's top 10 holiday destinations
-                I actually save up like a child with a piggy-bank for Brazil trip sometime soon
-                I am the new priest of Capoeira - all I do is talk and preach capoeira
-                I climb 4 floors to SS Sahney (capoeira class) with a nearly damaged leg covered in leg braces balancing on a pair of crutches I am unsure of myself on. But I refused to walk 2 steps in the hospital corridor next to my bed.
-                While setting a password I always think of capoeira or Portuguese words…
-                My husband/ boyfriend/ lifepartner should UNDERSTAND the relevance of capoeira in my life else.. There's the door buddy
-                Every time I see sufficient space or open space I imagine how apt it would be for a roda
-                Every time I see a wall I feel like a handstand
-                Climbing stairs is not an issue at all (not like it was an issue before)
-                I start imagining apelidos for random people and laugh in my head if the apelido is not in good taste
-                My shopping list HAS to have some reference or item related to capoeira
-                Rickshaw fares and bus fares as calculated only to and fro from class.
-                When people ask me now "Are you free on weekends" I have a "Nope" ready for them
-                Carter Road = Chico's/ Zorro's/ roda
-       Injuries and cuts and bruises to my hands are more from the instruments than any kitchen work
-                Capoeira class is the only place or time when I hug and appreciate and/ or love the people who injure me or take me down (Disclaimer: Not everyone fits in this category)
-                All my friends apart from CDO India think that Priyankka Gata Dutta is my married name (LOL)
-                Suddenly I KNOW more people who are constantly in the media glare, on TV, in the papers, page 3, own high-end business' etc (quite an extraordinary luxury)
-                Brazilian Portuguese is the 3rd standard dictionary set up in my system
-                All my dance moves now concentrate only on lower body parts *rolling eyes*
-                I hate the BRU coffee ads which apparently feature 'Brazilian culture' and Capoeira-like attempt
-                I have graduated from Bathroom singer to singing loudly and shamelessly in the roda with least concern to the nearby listener's auditory senses
-                I dare to wear white pants irrespective of how much luxury it ads to my expanding waistline
-                I see wool - I see cordao
-                Everyone who is a capoeirista is by default my friend.
-                When I travel I 1st look for capoeira school
-                I pay more attention now to my derriere when I am buying trousers or denim *rolling eyes twice over*
-                My monthly budget includes capoeira related expenditure
-                Capoeira is NEVER an option. It's a OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE NEED for me
-                I start seeing my CDO Family members in everyday objects, characters and visuals e.g. captain - capitaõ; monkey - macaco; popeye the sailor man - apunchya popeye n so on
-                I have turned into a feline - only thing left to do is groom myself like a cat and eat like a cat (not gonna happen)
-                My consumption of milk and fish has tripled from an already voracious appetite of both
-                I am writing this article for my blog on CAPOEIRA yet again.. 

Batizado 2010

I have to begin by saying I am envious of the Batizados’ I missed but I am grateful for the milestones I am about to cover from here on as a permanent fixture of CDO India which has grown on me like oxygen n food n beer n forro n atabaque n music n roda… everything. I went from a completely unknown and awkward entity at the Khar class to someone people had confidence in and accepted soon enough. My 1st Batizado feeling transitioned from an ‘oh alright a belt ceremony’ to ‘dear lord I have soooo much to do’.

It was last year 2010. Baba started warming us up to having I. Pinoquio, CM Cueca and M. Esquilo for our workshops. He spoke very fondly of Pinoquio as an extraordinary capoeirista, energetic and like a fireball with incredible experience since he joined capoeira at a young age; CM Cueca as his teacher, someone he looked up to and was very honored to have here with us. Honestly I don’t recall much about M. Esquilo but a safe bet would be Saci Lua Cheia (walking encyclopedia on M. Esquilo). Khar class immediately became an overcrowded venue. I was a bit annoyed at 1st at seeing so many people just loitering about taking up space but soon enough the tempo was set. Cabeca (Parikshit) was introduced to us as the Bimba sequence instructor (I laugh now because finally I know the meaning of Bimba). He always called out to us “All my Bimbas come here”… a joke he enjoyed secretly until our ‘early’ realization. I have to say my 1st impression of Cabeca was ‘very strict’. He had an air of authority about him but someone who had incredible knowledge on capoeira. Not only did he patiently teach us each and every one of the 8 sequences he went on to explain the nuances of WHY a kick comes from the left or right, why that esquiva and why a move here and there. He timed us, grilled us, drilled us, killed us… I loved it. We met outside in the park on off days to practice the 8 sequences in pitch darkness but Cabeca made it a point to be there whether it was 1 of us or all 8-10 pairs. There was a sense of friendly competition as we stayed glued to our partners and wanted to excel. Danceira :D was my partner and we practiced in her compound, on the club house roof, in the club house and everywhere. Apart from the Bimba sequences there were other groups of Bimba throws and Bimba take downs involving advanced students. Everyone trained intensely through November and December. I met many of the old students and bonded with them. It’s incredible how ‘at home’ you feel once you walk through the doors even after a prolonged absence.

The classes got more intense and pushed us to the limit. This was the time when I experienced my breath giving out and limbs and body parts aching that I probably hadn’t pushed earlier. But it was all incredible. Afro and maculele was taken by Diamante and Espaguete and we had a super fun time. Music – this was the time when you couldn’t hide in the background and just clap pretending to not know the words. The music is as much an important part of the roda as all the elements involved. Music provided us the axe, the intensity, the drive and singing loudly and clearly.. getting the lyrics right, trying simpler instruments.

Let me tell you I was not at all prepared for what to expect when the heavyweights of capoeira finally touched down in Mumbai one after the other. They were incredible, their stories, their songs, their fluidity… hell even the ghinga was so diverse. Each workshop at 1st felt very short but once we were into it, we were gasping for air, water and some more learning. The most memorable for me was the class I. Pinoquio took on the ground floor of SS Sahney, the class CM Cueca took at Juhu (Oyster room) and M. Esquilo at our regular Khar venue. Songs that have stuck by me were ‘o si si’ by Pinoquio, ‘Sem dende’ by CM Cueca and ‘capoeira que en si noi´by M. Esquilo. The added bonus was having M. Chicote, Pantera and Armelle with us. It was a huuuggee family and I had forgotten all other elements of my life except capoeira and Batizado. This was the time I even socialized with the group outside of the class and saw an incredibly different side to all the people I now recognized as family. Was no longer awkward or nervous. I was involved in the preparations and everything that I could get my hands on.

Batizado day was amazing. The energy was high and very much in the air. When I see the videos and pictures it seems like days but in reality it felt like blink and miss. Everything just swished by… we rushed through costume changes and face paint and rodas. The most significant and important moment for me was getting my cordao. I remember waiting forever and pushing others to go ahead of me. Didn’t know how that would prolong or make it special. Noone from my family was expected to come so the moment was left to me to be special. I entered and played a lovely game with M. Esquilo. I refused to be taken down…. Ppfffttt arrogance of a beginner. Eventually he did. I just stood there frozen as he smiled ever so widely and tied my cordao. I walked out and felt so…… THAT’S IT. It’s over. My 1st green cordao moment is OVER… ☹ and then someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned to find my father standing there. He had made it. He told me he saw everything from the start and he was proud of me. He would never question why I spent so much time training or such late hours all week. I only remember trying to listen to him between sobs (I didn’t know I was crying). Thereafter it was a rollercoaster. I was sooooo happy. The grand finale of the batizado was grander and soooo much fun. The music the axe was very very high. The party that followed (graciously hosted by Manteiga at Fat Cat Cafe) and all the fun and frolic that remained for days after until they all returned home and the quiet descended on us HEAVILY. As of today its 17 days to that experience again. I will have a new story VERY different from my 1st batizado.

Thy broken knee wont break the feline spirit!!

“Respect and treat your body well now... for it will teach you much harsher lessons later when you least expect it... the foremost being PATIENCE and ENDURANCE!”

It’s been nothing less of a struggle. Each class or each day I realize what I really did to my body. While talking to a friend the other day it dawned on me that not a day has gone by that I have sat down on the side to just calm down. The only times in my life so far that I do recall doing absolutely nothing at all were when I was ill. Let me tell you my definition of ill – flu, cough, cold and the likes is the pansy version of ‘ill’. My kind of illness always had me out of action in the severest form; even kissing death and having myself resuscitated back to life. As much as I was out to prove that I can be just as good as the boys, if not better, I wasn’t keeping tab of the times I subjected my temple (my body) to extreme wear and tear.

Present day capoeira class is a far different cry from what it was a few months ago or even a year ago:

• I was never sitting down or chatting with anyone in classrooms to take a break. Now I need to take a break or else it will break me either physically or emotionally.
• I was always at the front of the class – a habit my mum instilled in me. “Stay in the front and you will be able to see and hear better. You will be forced to concentrate because the ones behind you will follow you whether you are right or wrong.” Now I am at the back as I do not want to pose as a hindrance to anyone in terms of sight, space or capability.
• I was fast, not so sloppy and able to keep up with the pace come what may. Now I am slow, yet picking up each time I am letting off. All my moves look retarded and then there are points in the workout or class that I realize I can’t even ‘bloody’ try cuz its not recommended.
• I tried everything. Just so I could do it better and also that I could push myself and test the limits of what the human body can go through. My teacher’s voice keeps ringing in my head always about the delicate nature of Indian girls and how you cannot push them hard (I don’t blame him for I see it everyday). I wasn't one of them.
• And even in all of that chaos in class, the noise and activities I find myself slipping, momentarily maybe for a fraction, into a “what the @##$%&” situation. I look at someone else doing it all wrong and fight the urge to go do it myself and show how it’s done. But I simply can’t. I see someone else do it effortlessly and I find myself going into envy stage.  

My friends, family, peers have all been very patient and accommodating of my injury and the aftermath. People have slowed down for me, waited for me and encouraged me. I was afraid of slipping into the oblivion of their memories but that did not happen and I thank god for that. But every once in a while a few good words don’t do much. I still struggle and have to be patient because it is a need and not an option. I also now have to argue my way through those who blame capoeira for my recent stint. I assure them that its normal for active people to go through some form of injury and that does not amount to giving it up. One will then just live in fear the rest of their lives. I ignore the ones that do not 'get it' and move on because I have a lot left to accomplish and learn. I do like that I have learnt much in this time out such as music and developed other skills. I don’t think I would have dedicated this phase to them all because I was too busy huffing and puffing through life and complaining when the huff-puff got to me. 

The Batizado which is my main focus now is not the end of the world or some championship title. But I run into anxiety thinking I will be the only entity there who is not 100%. I am pushing myself to get there but even I have the common sense to know that medical science won’t allow me to abuse my body anymore. There will be many Batizados and many Capoeirandos and many beautiful people. 

A great memory from CDO India Batizado 2010. My favorite people in a single frame <3

Patience and endurance…. Patience and endurance… patience and endurance…. AXÉ TOTAL!

SCAR ©

Rigid deformed contoured
What beauty lies beneath?
Highlighted in a way
None can perceive
 
Boasting a tale of its own
It lies frigid and cold
In the sunbeam and curtain
There it is. Lo and behold!!
 
Reminder it is of a million
Memories quarrels beauty and beast
Yet so protected nurtured
Nourished to the least
 
Your wish to be flawless
Is a dream in its own
I wonder
For heaven’s sake... Why condone?
 
Such valor is written all over
Such depth in its every texture
Shape your thoughts as you feel
What God created between his meals!

“One of the great joys in life is having one's hair brushed”

Says Vanessa Redgrave’s character Claire in the movie ‘Letters to Juliet’. The movie is not a blockbuster hit but I needed the romantic Italian fix for the lousy ruthlessly wasted Sunday. I had most certainly lost my love – so I tried, hopelessly, to fix that with some indoors work and the movie which just happened to be playing on Star movies for a romantic sap like me.

This dialogue struck me a lot. I mean come to think of it, our lives are filled with such pampering moments. Especially women – yeah I don’t expect men to have the same serene moment and reminisce about it. Our childhood is filled with mums tugging at our little ponytails and pigtails. Either we screamed, we cried, or we just sat there and annoyed mum or the maid or grandma by being all fidgety and shaky. The conversations we had, the lectures we have heard during those few precious moments. I find it therapeutic and bonding. And I most certainly never forgot how I ruined my perfect ponytails by sticking my finger right in the centre cuz it felt so soft and silky.

I recall mum waking up early if only just to tie my hair. I would not, under any circumstances, allow anyone to touch my hair. I believed it for real that my long lustrous thick mane was so only because my mum’s lucky hands groomed them into place. I felt her love, I felt her pain, her anger, exhaustion or plain bland emotion when she combed my hair. I felt what used to start as anger when she scolded me and then slowly turn into soft caressing of my hair as if to say ‘I love you no matter what’.

Then followed a few years of the boarding school touch. Up till the 6^th grade it was always the Tais who made sure we were all clean, clear and proper, that we washed our hair and oiled it. It did have affection but one that would make me and my fellow boarders value what we left back home. Many of us would take turns to complain. That would be made up by my girl-friends. We would steal time in the night at ‘lights out’ and oil each other’s hair and comb it to perfection. The styles we tried and what not. Whatever it was it helped us console each other when we were homesick, made us feel pretty in the growing years and even dissolves any frights and fights that we had.

Now it’s a luxury for real. I have to literally beg someone at home to give me a head massage so that I can relax and maybe just roll off to sleep after it. I miss it. Every once in a while I make a face (one that of a desperate child) and head to mum and cite a long exhaustive day and she amuses me. It’s perfect just like it always was…

Now I find myself, head leaning like the tower of Pisa, peering at Chris Egan to ‘for-gods-sake’ kiss Amanda Seyfried already… J :*

Deadman's Shrine ®

Zèke watched his father wake up

A staunch man quiet and tough

Through the sheets he saw the drill

As the gallow man prepared to leave

The cold hat shielded a gaunt expression

A dead stare ahead of its time

As he made his way before dawn

To a place he called his daily shrine

The man a murderer awaited his time

5:02am was precisely determined

Our gallow man blatantly moved about

Preparing the moment that felt like drought

The stench of death was his incense

A shrouded head his very deity

Mighty strength was all he offered

To the dark gods he imagined at the alter

The gallow-man’s shrine made him an ego

An expression of end, a power of lost

He had caused end too many times

For death had no longer to become his plight

What he felt when he pulled the lever

Service to society, end of an era!!

Who he ended, what he ended?

1 thing was true, he felt no fear.

She Cried ©

Painfully she wound up in bed

Crisp on her pillow, where she lay.

The light dimmed

Her eyes barely shut

Slowly rolled a drop in her hair.

She cried because the world was unfair

Lies unfurled, irony and despair

Disowned by plight

Nor hers nor mine

Was wishful thinking

Her life was a lie.

Why did it hurt? Such physical pain

Not a scratch no cut

Just deep in her veins

Rush of guilt, she lashed out hard

Oh! Unfair world

Seemed miles apart.

Seeking love in fragile quest

Seemed so peaceful, yet so pale

She cried, not for the mocking souls

She cried because she felt like a fool.

Slipping fast she fell from the edge

No grip in sight, blind by her faith

Blow by blow, to her was void

Like a vortex, she spun out of sight.

It’s a dream, comforted her heart in vain

Her mind battled to thrust its way

Why she cried so hard

No one knew

To her t’was only thing to do.

Feeling betrayed, helpless, lost

Where’s the tear of laughter

She almost forgot

She cried for self, dad and mom

She cried for those who seemed unknown.

She cried to God in hoarse whispers

In truth, the night was bitter and cold

The crumpled sheet returned its warmth

Her fingers stiff from the desperate hold.

Blindness be her friend for now

Black shroud to comfort her soul

She cried in the cold of the night

Cried, for no one sensed her plight.

No shadow lurked, at the door

To better her life, least she hoped

Buried her head deep inside

No breath escaped for that moment of time.

Her soul bare, stripped of love

Suddenly she felt naked undone

All was lost, no single hope

Gushing tears shrouded her door.

She cried till her eyes balled up

Cried till she was red and hot

Consoled herself with no one around

An afterthought would cause a rebound.

Sleep crept in, a friendly stranger

Her dreams flickered, began to waver

She cried for a new tomorrow

Cried so she did it no more.

Oh life! Be merciful to her

One who sheds for anything disturbed

It dawned on her, all seemed so small

A queen in her world, an angel foretold.

Forget yesterday, deal with tomorrow

Today was a flood of sorts

She cried for those who cannot do

Those who can’t love

The way that she could.