I’ve often heard that suicide is a choice. Even after I was gone, I heard people constantly say that. And if you must know, yes it was a choice. I chose how to die. But I never felt that I actually chose or wanted to die. It’s sad, isn’t it?
My being alive hurt me so much that I just had to leave. I knew at some point that I wanted to end my life, but it was never as if suicide came up to me, sat me down, and said, “Hey, you’re going to do it, you know that?” It was never like that. I never thought I would have chosen this path.
I have always tried to be as patient as possible. But I think people tend to forget that words really do hurt. I kept hoping that if I ignored it enough, I’d wake up one morning and everything would be normal again. But it wasn’t. I consider those who have a bad dream and are able to wake up from it lucky. Very lucky. I eventually didn’t wake up from the nightmares. No, I’m not talking about my dying. I’m talking about my living.
Every day was a blurry nightmare that kept repeating and was more painful every time I tried to wake up from it. I kept thinking, “Won’t someone at least TRY to understand what I’m going through?” But there was never a helping hand extended out to me. My family, my friends, they all kept trying to convince me that I’m just going through a “phase,” a mood that I’d eventually snap out of. And, for the longest time, I really believed I would.
Willpower comes from within a person which can go very far, but for so many like me, it only goes a certain distance. For example, when you put weight on a rope and let that weight stay there, that rope will eventually fray. Maybe you could have still saved it when it was fraying, but when it finally breaks, it doesn’t ever go back to being what it was.
Some may consider me to be weak. They may think that, because I couldn’t face the reality, I decided to permanently run away from it. Which yes, they are right. In that sense, I was very weak. I’m still weak because I still can’t face myself or anyone else for doing this. But I really believe people like me are strong because, most of the time, we seem and try to be normal like everyone else.
I was the same person who would silently cry herself to sleep most nights, but try to hold together the pieces of another who was hurting. I was the same person who was constantly slapped in the face with “stigma,” “disgrace to the family,” but would wake up every morning and pray – pray that this same family of mine would be okay.
I’ve been watching and I know that everyone genuinely misses me. Even the people I never really got to know. But, at the same time, I think, “Is this what it took for you all to miss me?” And that leaves me confused.
How do you break someone down while they’re alive and then build them up when they’re gone?
So I want to ask you all: When I died, was it really all my fault? Did I really tighten my own noose around my neck? Some, even now, may say yes. But, now I’m gone, I hope that at least a few will acknowledge my pain and crushed hopes.
I still think I could have been saved. I firmly believe that. Unfortunately for me, when I frayed, no one tried to relieve me of the weight.
My sincerest and most heartfelt condolences to all those who have lost a loved one to suicide. We always say that suicide isn’t the answer, so we should work towards suicide never being a question.
“Confessions to a Moonless Sky” is a meditation on the new moon and guilt. I wrote it when I was living in Dallas and was driving back from a dusk prayer. The new moon terrified me on that drive. I was diseased by the knowledge that my partner, at the time, had seen the worst parts of me. There’s immense shame in this piece—it seized my self-image. If the moon could become brand new, then I could start over.
I often ponder on the moon’s reflective nature and pairs of eyes. I’m hyper-fixated on how I am seen by others. Unfortunately, the brilliance of seeing your reflection in another person leads to negativity. After all, those who are too keen on their own reflection are the same people who suffer from it. It is possible to use shame to fuel one’s retribution and personal growth, without becoming consumed by it.
We can look to Shah Rukh Khan succumbing to alcoholism in his own sorrow and then later imbibing his sadness in Chandramukhi. “Confessions to a Moonless Sky” is a lesson for us: Don’t be Shah Rukh Khan in Devdas, instead embody pre-incarnation Shah Rukh Khan in Om Shanti Om!
Sometimes when the moon abandons the sky, I wonder if I drove her away.
If she comes back, will she be the same? How I wish she would come back new, truly new! That way she’d have no memory of the sin I’ve confessed to her. You noxious insect. Sin-loving, ego-imbibing pest. You are no monster, for at least a monster has ideology, it sins with purpose. You sin just to chase ignominy.
But the moon won’t say that, she never does. She’ll just leave the sky and return days later, slowly. And I’ll wonder if she’s new, perhaps she won’t remember my past confessions. What does it matter? Were the moon replaced with one from a different god, I’d drive her away, too.
In the context of history, the written word enables us to see life as one did, understand the experiences of others, and contextualize our past within our present selves.
Published in 2021, the South Asian American Digital Archive (SAADA)’s well-researched debut anthology, “Our Stories,” was written by 64 scholars, activists, authors, and members of the South Asian community. The anthology is a compassionate and anecdotal revival of our history, identity, and political standing in a nation with histories of welcomed immigration juxtaposed against deep beliefs of racism. Each story presents the promised freedoms of the new nation paired with its challenges and differences.
“Our Stories” explores the current South Asian American cultural climate, detailing accounts that had lasting impacts. These include the September 11 attacks, Black Lives Matter protests, and voting patterns from recent elections. A majority of the anthology focuses on understanding our past. The first account of South Asians on North American soil dates to the late 1700s, when many Pakistani and Bangladeshi men entered the land as laborers aboard steamships. Although the presence of South Asian Americans was far and few until the 1900s, their strife is important to learn about, share, and remember.
Before the civil rights movement, South Asian American history was fraught with the fight for citizenship and a battle with unbridled racism. Take the Bellingham riots, where South Asian mill workers were attacked and made to feel unwelcome in their place of work, elements of which are still present in today’s America. Take Kala Bagai’s story, and her reality when her husband took his own life in 1928, seven years after receiving his naturalization. After his citizenship was revoked, he was also refused a visa to return to India, and ended his life in despair at the paradox of his reality. Raising three children whom she put through college herself, Kala Bagai’s harrowing story is one to remember, especially during a time when women were celebrating the chance to vote. Her voice was not heard. The early ’90s saw xenophobia, culminating in similar stories and despite some improvements since the 20th century, citizenship status is still a source of financial stress, with its purgatory limbos and unpredictable results.
South Asian Americans can immigrate to the country today due to a combination of the 1990 Immigration and Nationality Act and the Hart-Celler Act (1965), two key policies passed that welcomed the wave of highly-skilled labor, especially in demanding areas of information technology, engineering, and science. Beneficial immigration laws have been driven by the hard work of South Asians and other minority groups in North America.
Apart from the tumultuous stories surrounding the hardships of immigration, “Our Stories” introduces some nuanced positives of the South Asian American experience. From observing the allure that Niagara Falls has on South Asian immigrants, to the famous South Asian American literary writers including Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni, and Jhumpa Lahiri, we can draw patterns between American culture combined with South Asian influence. Even the gradual growth of yoga as a practice in the West is explored — from the time of Swami Vivekananda, who is critical for bringing Vedanta to the West, to Rishi Singh Grewal, one of America’s first Indian-born yoga teachers. Originally taken as a mystical and magical practice, yoga has become more postural and meditative as it continues to spread across the United States.
We also have detailed accounts of impressive South Asian American women in history who helped break boundaries and create possibilities for not only South Asians, but for all women of the time. Dr. Anandibai Joshee, the first-ever South Asian American woman to receive a medical degree in the late 1800s, provided medical services for women in India who would rather die than accept medical assistance from male physicians. Pandita Rambai was another critical social reformer from the 1800s, whose hardships during childhood, drove her to provide a better life for women in India and around the globe.
Covering real-life narratives from the 1700s to the present day, ‘Our Stories’ is a must-read for every South Asian immigrant and descendant living in America. Understanding our history is critical while living in a country where racial identity is often both appropriated and appreciated. As South Asians continue to inhabit new geographies, we are entwining the history of the past with the happenings of the present, and the impact of that ancestral and spatial legacy will shape our future for generations to come.
You can purchase a copy of “Our Stories” through this link. Support SAADA by donating to the organization here.
“What you do is not who you are. Our capitalist society spends a lot of time trying to convince us that we are our work, but we don’t have to fall for it.”
When I first met Joy Batra, she wasn’t an author. She was a multi-hyphenated individual who floored me with her charm and her aura. Joy not only had gone to business school and law school at one of the most prestigious universities in America, but she also valued her hobbies and her passions that were completely extraneous to her working persona. Her nontraditional career path was one that, at first glance, confused me. “I’m a dancer and freelancer,” she had said, and I batted my eyes as if she was talking in a foreign language. What’s a freelancer? Why and how did she come to identify herself as a dancer, when her degrees all point to business and law?
Joy Batra’s therapeutic and timely book “Freelance Mindset” provides relevant stories, guidelines, and motivation to take ownership of your career and financial well-being. Particularly, the book is centered around the pros and cons of life as a freelancer and practical advice for how to get started as one. At its core, the “Freelance Mindset” encourages diving deep into the relationship between career and identity, and how the balance of both relate back to your life view.
In the words of Batra:
“Freelancing is a way to scratch a creative itch that is completely unrelated to their day jobs…Freelancing harnesses that independent streak and turns it into a long- term advantage.”
Batra’s older sister’s advice is written with forthright humbleness and glaring humility. Batra leads us through the fear of facing our existential fears about careers, productivity, and creativity. She leans into the psychological aspects of how we develop our careers, and reminds us to approach work not just with serious compassion but also with childhood play:
“You are naturally curious and passionate. As a child, before you needed to think deeply about money, you probably played games, had imaginary friends, and competed in sports. Those instincts might get buried as we grow up, but they don’t disappear altogether.”
Batra also provides us with a diverse cast of inspirational freelancers who provide their honest perspectives across a wide range of domains from being a professional clown to actors to writers. Especially noticeable is the attention paid to South Asian women through notable interviews with Vyjayanthi Vadrevu, Saumya Dave, and more. On social media, it’s easy to find these women and immediately applaud their success, but behind the scenes, it takes a lot of grit, persistence, and determination to reach the successful level of freelancing that you see. Batra encourages a spiritual way of thinking that is marked by rational needs (ex. Maslow’s hierarchy): not to seek immediate gratification and corporate climbing, but rather to view life as a “jungle gym” as coined by Patricia Sellers. Taking risks is part of life, and just like entrepreneurship, freelancing is just as ambitious and off-the-beaten path, despite stigmatization.
“One of the strange paradoxes of the working world is that entrepreneurship is fetishized and freelancing is stigmatized.”
I recommend the “Freelance Mindset” to anyone who is starting out their career in these economically uncertain times, as well as seasoned workers who are looking for inspiration or a shift in their career life. Whether or not you are considering becoming a freelancer in a certain domain, this book is the practical wake-up call that workers and employees need in order to reorient their purpose and poise themselves for a mindset of success. I view this book as a “lifer,” one to read every few years to ground myself and think critically about the choices I make and where I devote my time.
I leave you with this quote:
“We can adopt the new belief that no single job will meet all our financial, social, emotional, spiritual, and physical needs…We have one self, and we must figure out how to integrate it into the various situations we find ourselves in.“
You can purchase a copy of the Freelance Mindset here. Follow Joy Batra on Twitter and Instagram for more content!