Loud speaker, boisterous, madwoman, unprofessional, uncultured, uncouth so and so forth. The raving Indian is described by different people in different ways using a plethora of adjectives and nouns found in the dictionary. Passers by and neighbours are usually amused at the varied discussions in high decibels, the myriad swear words uttered during heated exchanges, which I would take the liberty to call the ocker language, the emotional outbursts, the ranting and raving and other tantrums the woman of the house chucks.
When she is done with her tantrums, she is miraculously transformed into a workaholic, who does not stop until she achieves her aspirations, and when exhaustion takes over ambition, she chooses to blare her favourite Indian music unabashedly to relieve herself from the resulting stress and tension. Often, emails, ridiculously high utility bills, offspring’s lethargy or persistent disobedience, memories of unfair experiences, victimisation by unjust people and systems would trigger the rage in the raving Indian woman and “there she goes, there she goes again.”
When all is said and done she turns to alcohol for solace and deep slumber. Drowning her sorrows, disappointments, humiliations, frustrations and anger in a few glasses of wine and a Bollywood movie, and sometimes in teary recollections, she bounces back to face yet another day or week of challenging ordeals. Passionate about her beliefs and creative skills, she storms ahead with a streak of rebellion listening to none and waiting for none.
If I have sustained your interest long enough to make you wonder who this raving Indian woman next door is, it is I and on this new year’s eve I resolve to be a transformed individual although I would be doing my current reputation great damage. Wish you all a fruitful and prosperous one.
A Writer's Exposé 