Of places that are open to all, but not everyone is welcome. Thoughts on public parks, private homes, clothing choices, invisibility, and the city of Delhi.
Jul 7, 2023·edited Jul 7, 2023Liked by Richa Vadini Singh
Goddess. I saw that you had written another when I was speaking on the phone with that woman I told you I read a number of your pieces to, which she loved. Let me emphasize this before I give you verbatim, her response to this piece. She has traveled the world, been to many of the earths greatest vortexes, loves clothing and travel, was trained as a lawyer, is a seer, councils business people how to create what they most want... She said this: "Wow. This woman, I love her writing. It just takes you in so many different deep places. I love it. But it's the dichotomy and the perception of a woman's only... Yeah, gives men to claim the rest of the space. It's crazy! Wow. I love that. I love that!"
I'm not sure why you doubt yourself. I'm not sure why you think this is a fairly ordinary piece in the scheme of your larger writing pursuits. I think this piece is brilliant. I noticed that I like, as my mom liked about my writing, the use of alliteration. I think you have a voice that can speak for both educated and uneducated. You can reach those hungering to understand that which has always escaped them.
My take on why you doubt yourself and judge this one as fairly ordinary, is because a man, or some men, in your past belittled what they were afraid of or couldn't understand that you brought to their attention, and they didn't want to appear less than. They put you down, because they were feeling doubtful of themselves. This is something I'm uncovering with someone who has been in my life for over quarter of a century. I'm finally being direct with the put downs that have more to do with him, than with me.
I brim with joy and gratitude as I read what you have to say. First of all, it is immensely reassuring to me as a writer that you have—more than once—discussed my work with your friend. Thank you for quoting her response to this piece. Tell her I say hello, and thank you! She sounds like a fascinating person, who, even after having seen and done it all, finds something of worth in my words. Readers like you and your friend make these seemingly ordinary pieces come alive. Perhaps I don’t always mean to equate ordinary with uninspiring. It is, after all, the eventfulness of the ordinary that makes writers out of people like us. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!
Also, you may be right to say that there have been people in the past, who sometimes inevitably permeate into the present, who have dismissed our experiences in the name of candour and concern. Those people will continue to exist in the centre and on the margins of our past, present and future. Sometimes, I wish our words could serve as a mirror to their unthinking selves. Only that they are the truly uneducated, hiding behind the virtues of their literacy.
I grew to love Delhi. It’s a city that has no pretensions. Yes, life is hard there. Yes, the weather sucks. The pollution stings. Yes, the people can be aggressive. But the truth is...life is equally hard in all the other cities too, a point that people who point fingers at Delhi don’t seem to understand.
As for women-only parks I hope if doesn’t go the way of the Delhi metro.
Thank you! It’s interesting that you think Delhi is a city with no pretensions. It is home to a whole lot of pretentious (and, yes, very brash and aggressive) people, but perhaps the city as a character in its own right is far more forgiving. What I love most about your comment is what should have been most obvious to us, but it’s surprising how easily we fail to acknowledge it: life is equally hard in all the other cities, too!
I remember that you had commented on something I had written at the end of 2020, about how your experience of having grown up in Bangalore and then moving to Delhi is the inverse of mine. I would still love to exchange notes about that someday. :)
What I meant by that is that there isn't anyone in Delhi talking about "outsiders coming into change our culture". Or maybe I never saw it because I was an immigrant. On the other hand, as a Bangalorean, I definitely had anxieties about Kannada and the 'local culture'. So I should probably have said, Delhi has not pretensions to a cultural identity that is under threat. The whole tehzeeb thing isn't Delhi-specific anyway.
For sure, would love to exchange notes about Delhi and Bangalore. Or maybe even do a collaborative piece about it!
Yes, I agree with what you say--I don’t see that kind of cultural bigotry at play in Delhi, and that’s really the beauty of cosmopolitan cities. Delhi thrives, in part, because of its diversity.
I’d love to work on a collaborative piece. Let me write to you soon with some ideas. :)
PS I have a big thing about comfort zones. My home is my escape and my museum. I always wanted to be alone earlier in life when so busy elsewhere with others. I find having plenty of solitude now to cater to my own needs, allows me when I do go out to interact to view each situation as divine and mystically messaging from a source bigger than us all.
Solitude is so commonly pathologised, perhaps because it threatens the role of the other(s), renders them useless for the most part. But I thrive on it; I get so much out of time spent alone. I see what you mean about the renewed perspective it gives you when you do go out.
What an interesting idea—to look at the home as a museum!
Such an effortless read. I’m left with wonder how you bring about these deeply existential questions from such ordinary experiences. I guess, Depth is in the eyes of the beholder. Loved the piece.
I cannot thank you enough for your unwavering support and appreciation of my work. Even as I write what I think is a fairly ordinary piece (in the scheme of my larger writing pursuits), I am awed by your words of admiration. A part of me will always wonder if you are favourably biased towards everything that I write, or if it is our shared love for the written word that brought us together in the first place. Thank you, as always.
Goddess. I saw that you had written another when I was speaking on the phone with that woman I told you I read a number of your pieces to, which she loved. Let me emphasize this before I give you verbatim, her response to this piece. She has traveled the world, been to many of the earths greatest vortexes, loves clothing and travel, was trained as a lawyer, is a seer, councils business people how to create what they most want... She said this: "Wow. This woman, I love her writing. It just takes you in so many different deep places. I love it. But it's the dichotomy and the perception of a woman's only... Yeah, gives men to claim the rest of the space. It's crazy! Wow. I love that. I love that!"
I'm not sure why you doubt yourself. I'm not sure why you think this is a fairly ordinary piece in the scheme of your larger writing pursuits. I think this piece is brilliant. I noticed that I like, as my mom liked about my writing, the use of alliteration. I think you have a voice that can speak for both educated and uneducated. You can reach those hungering to understand that which has always escaped them.
My take on why you doubt yourself and judge this one as fairly ordinary, is because a man, or some men, in your past belittled what they were afraid of or couldn't understand that you brought to their attention, and they didn't want to appear less than. They put you down, because they were feeling doubtful of themselves. This is something I'm uncovering with someone who has been in my life for over quarter of a century. I'm finally being direct with the put downs that have more to do with him, than with me.
I brim with joy and gratitude as I read what you have to say. First of all, it is immensely reassuring to me as a writer that you have—more than once—discussed my work with your friend. Thank you for quoting her response to this piece. Tell her I say hello, and thank you! She sounds like a fascinating person, who, even after having seen and done it all, finds something of worth in my words. Readers like you and your friend make these seemingly ordinary pieces come alive. Perhaps I don’t always mean to equate ordinary with uninspiring. It is, after all, the eventfulness of the ordinary that makes writers out of people like us. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!
Also, you may be right to say that there have been people in the past, who sometimes inevitably permeate into the present, who have dismissed our experiences in the name of candour and concern. Those people will continue to exist in the centre and on the margins of our past, present and future. Sometimes, I wish our words could serve as a mirror to their unthinking selves. Only that they are the truly uneducated, hiding behind the virtues of their literacy.
I grew to love Delhi. It’s a city that has no pretensions. Yes, life is hard there. Yes, the weather sucks. The pollution stings. Yes, the people can be aggressive. But the truth is...life is equally hard in all the other cities too, a point that people who point fingers at Delhi don’t seem to understand.
As for women-only parks I hope if doesn’t go the way of the Delhi metro.
Beautifully observed piece!
Thank you! It’s interesting that you think Delhi is a city with no pretensions. It is home to a whole lot of pretentious (and, yes, very brash and aggressive) people, but perhaps the city as a character in its own right is far more forgiving. What I love most about your comment is what should have been most obvious to us, but it’s surprising how easily we fail to acknowledge it: life is equally hard in all the other cities, too!
I remember that you had commented on something I had written at the end of 2020, about how your experience of having grown up in Bangalore and then moving to Delhi is the inverse of mine. I would still love to exchange notes about that someday. :)
What I meant by that is that there isn't anyone in Delhi talking about "outsiders coming into change our culture". Or maybe I never saw it because I was an immigrant. On the other hand, as a Bangalorean, I definitely had anxieties about Kannada and the 'local culture'. So I should probably have said, Delhi has not pretensions to a cultural identity that is under threat. The whole tehzeeb thing isn't Delhi-specific anyway.
For sure, would love to exchange notes about Delhi and Bangalore. Or maybe even do a collaborative piece about it!
Yes, I agree with what you say--I don’t see that kind of cultural bigotry at play in Delhi, and that’s really the beauty of cosmopolitan cities. Delhi thrives, in part, because of its diversity.
I’d love to work on a collaborative piece. Let me write to you soon with some ideas. :)
PS I have a big thing about comfort zones. My home is my escape and my museum. I always wanted to be alone earlier in life when so busy elsewhere with others. I find having plenty of solitude now to cater to my own needs, allows me when I do go out to interact to view each situation as divine and mystically messaging from a source bigger than us all.
Solitude is so commonly pathologised, perhaps because it threatens the role of the other(s), renders them useless for the most part. But I thrive on it; I get so much out of time spent alone. I see what you mean about the renewed perspective it gives you when you do go out.
What an interesting idea—to look at the home as a museum!
Such an effortless read. I’m left with wonder how you bring about these deeply existential questions from such ordinary experiences. I guess, Depth is in the eyes of the beholder. Loved the piece.
I cannot thank you enough for your unwavering support and appreciation of my work. Even as I write what I think is a fairly ordinary piece (in the scheme of my larger writing pursuits), I am awed by your words of admiration. A part of me will always wonder if you are favourably biased towards everything that I write, or if it is our shared love for the written word that brought us together in the first place. Thank you, as always.
Probably wait until others read it. 😅