The Numbers on the Scale and Self-worth

A few days ago, pictures taken for an advertisement for the plus-size collection of a clothing brand popped up on my Facebook news feed. On seeing the women they had labeled as "plus-size", I was shocked! Those girls looked like every other girl. They were just not too skinny. Apparently, not skinny did translate to "plus size" . I was appalled at what these brands conveyed to be an ideal body size. Body shaming happens not just through conversations and magazine covers. It also happens in the plus-size sections of stores. And that is the most subtle expression of body shaming.

I had been a chubby kid growing up. The lifestyle in Saudi Arabia where chances of physical activity (especially for women) were low, introduction to high calorie junk foods and the medication I had been taking, for wheezing had all somehow contributed to a sudden weight gain. As an 8 year old girl, my weight, the size of my clothes or the chubbiness of my cheeks - none of those mattered to me. And then we went to India for the summer after 4th grade, the summer I turned 9 and that was when things changed quite a lot. I was told by pretty much everyone in my extended family I met that I was "fat". My cousins made fun of my weight every chance that they got. Every time I ate in front of them, they made a comment regarding my weight and how it had to be because of my food intake. I was also told how my outfits didn't look good on me because I was "fat". I had barely turned 9 at the time. I still vividly remember breaking down in front of my parents. I told them that I wanted to go back to Saudi. I'd had enough of the summer already. Now that I think about it, my cousins were all either my age or a few years older. They didn't know better than to act the way they did. I don't blame them anymore but that summer had wounded me and my confidence.

Every time I visited India for vacations, excited that I'd get to meet my grandparents and visit the places I grew up in, I always came back disappointed. In the trips to India that followed, I received unsolicited advice from relatives. People took the liberty to tell me how I was "fat" and didn't look good because I was "fat". That I should cut down on my food, and follow what their daughters did, so that I could be "slim" like their daughters.. This brought me to a point where if I knew we were having certain guests over, I'd stay in my bedroom until they left.  Life in a small apartment in Saudi Arabia didn't leave much opportunity for physical activity and being in a high school following Indian curriculum meant having to choose between academics and sports, because apparently choosing one meant failing in the other. I still did what I could, and at every chance I had, I tried to cut down on my calorie intake. My best friends are witnesses to all the crazy things I did in order to (if not lose) at least avoid gaining weight. I had this phase where for about a year and a half, I only took fruits to school for lunch. It was monotonous and I was bored within a week but my parents and best friends made it so much easier on me.

When I moved to US for college, I had the opportunity for a lot of physical activity. Long walks in the campus, running to make it in time for the bus/train and guidance from my uncle on the kind of work-outs I could do, helped me reach a healthy body weight. My family helped me learn that every meal, every morsel of food need not make me feel guilty. I slowly started feeling good when I worked out. I started Taekwondo classes and that made me realize that I had a long way to go as far as fitness was concerned - I found even the warm-up exercises hard and sprained my ankle within the first 15 minutes of class. I came back home heart-broken. But, I went back to the classes and forced myself to outdo what I did the previous day. I can now effortlessly do those exercises (and a lot more) that I found so very difficult that first day. I've told myself that I will not judge my body or my fitness level or my self-worth based on the numbers on the scale or the size labels on my clothes. I've begun to teach myself to enjoy sweating it out and to feel energized after a rigorous work out session. I strive to run a little faster than I did the previous day, hold my planks for a few seconds longer and to make sure that my kicks are a little higher. I like being challenged to do something that was hard for me and I accepted that challenge. I feel relaxed after a good work out session and even though I become lazy and skip working out every now and then, I do find a way to re-gain that motivation. I'm far from being completely fit, but I'm making efforts to get there.

Sadly, the word "fat" still makes me nervous. I still feel unsure of myself and my body in the company of all those people who had something to say about my weight. But I'm working on all that. I've taught myself in all these years that "fat" is far from being the worst someone can be. As long as one discusses their weight with their doctor and is in a healthy weight range, being "fat" is alright. I've learnt that one looks good when they carry themselves with confidence and being "fat" or "skinny" doesn't matter there. If you've been body-shamed for being too "fat" or too "skinny", know that your health is what matters. Everything else is secondary. You don't need to gain or lose weight because others make you feel pressurized to do so. As long as you're healthy, gaining or losing weight should absolutely be your choice. Your self-worth is measured by what you're on the inside, not by the numbers on the scale.

Ponniyin Selvan - a story, an experience

If you asked me for one thing that I regret about my schooling, it'd be the fact that I didn't receive a formal education in my native language, Tamil. I learned how to read and write in Tamil at a pretty young age. Yet, I never learned the literature or grammar of the language formally. As a result, all the Tamil I read was in magazines and sign boards when I'm back home in India. I'd started reading Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam's autobiography, The Wings of Fire (Agni Siragugal) in Tamil during my bus rides to and from college. But, being a hard core fiction lover, I never found the motivation to finish it. Also, I couldn't read Tamil as easily or as fast as I could read English and I'd just stopped reading the book. Almost four years later, I was intrigued by a Tamil book named Washingtonil Thirumanam (Wedding at Washington) which was about a Tamil Brahmin wedding happening at Washington DC in the 1960's. The book was short and a fun read. Once I finished reading, I wondered why I hadn't read any other Tamil books. My consistent guilt at being a self-proclaimed avid reader who hasn't read anything in her mother tongue, along with the sudden interest I had towards reading Tamil books, encouraged me to read Ponniyin Selvan. It also happened to be probably the most popular and widely loved Tamil novel of all time. Written by Kalki Krishnamoorthy, this 2400 page long historical fiction was set in the 10th century Chola empire. I immediately ordered the entire set (the book is split into 5 volumes) on Amazon. After placing the order, I wondered if I would even like the book since I didn't particularly enjoy reading historical fiction. Also, reading five volumes would take a lot of dedication towards the book. I still decided to go ahead and give this widely loved story, a try.

When I did start reading the first book and was a few pages into it, I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep reading. Even then, I pushed myself to continue. The fact that this story is so popular also intrigued me and I had to find out what it was all about. A few chapters into the book and I was hooked! I was drawn into the story and for the three long months (yes, it took me that long) that I was reading it, I also led an alternate life, in the palaces and streets of the Chola empire, being part of political conspiracies and adventurous trips. After reading the first half of the first volume, I realized why this story has such a dedicated fan following. I initially wondered why this story would possibly take 2400 pages. But the author takes you on a trip through the Chola empire in Tamil Nadu and from there to Sri Lanka on a boat. Every scene is so brilliantly described with such rich detail that the reader can easily visualize the situations. I'm not a big fan of very detailed descriptions in books. I like for things to be left to the reader's imagination. However I was not disappointed here. The story ended with a lot of open ended questions, and there's no better way to ensure that the readers don't forget the story soon, than to let them figure out the answers to their questions.

The strongest feature of the story are its multi-faceted characters. The best thing about this story is that it does not overly idealize its characters, maybe except for the character the book was named for - Ponniyin Selvan (Raja Raja Chola I). Interestingly, the book was not named after its title character. The title character is a brave, loyal, witty young man named Vandhiyathevan. The book follows him as he travels through the Chola kingdom to visit the King with a message from his son, the crown prince. Without him realizing, Vandhiyathevan finds himself in the midst of a political conspiracy that would change life as they knew it in the Chola kingdom. As he travels through the kingdom, he meets a lot of interesting people but I was delighted at the fact that the most interesting of them all were the six women he met - Kundavai, Vanathi, Nandini, Poonguzhali, Mandakini and Manimegalai. It was absolutely refreshing to read a story with six strong female characters who were pivotal in driving the plot! Each one of these women were so different from each other. In a way, they were representative of the women we see around us. Not all six of them had always been courageous and strong willed and opinionated, but when the time came, they rose to the occasion and displayed extraordinary courage and determination! 

I have always been hesitant to read books that have a lot of hype surrounding them. I usually start reading these books with a lot of expectations and am left disappointed. However this time, I glad I decided to give this story a try. It was not only a wonderful reading experience but has also left me feeling a little closer to Tamil, almost like discovering a connection to my mother tongue that had weakened over time! For a person like me, who fantasizes about traveling the world one day, the road trip-like (or the 10th century equivalent of it, anyway) nature of the story was an absolute treat! Some stories pull you into their world as you read, some stories stay with you long after you finish reading them and some stories make you wish you had met the characters in them. When you find a story that fits into all three categories, it's just perfect! Ponniyin Selvan is one such story.

Before You Pull the "Victim Card"...

Four and a half years ago, before I moved to the US to start college, my dad sat me down and asked me if I really wanted to wear the hijab in America. He was concerned that wearing the hijab would make me stand out in a crowd and be an easy target for anyone harboring hatred towards Muslims. Having grown up in Saudi Arabia, I had started wearing the hijab in my pre-teens. However, I had found a strong connection with the hijab only two or three years before and my bond with the hijab was in its early stages when I was asked the question. For some reason, I was firm on my decision to wear the headscarf and told my dad not to worry and that I'd be fine. To me, more than anything else, my decision to wear the hijab was a big one and I didn't want to belittle that decision by undoing it so soon. In the years to come, I've often thought of that conversation I had with my dad and I understood the reason behind his question and his concern. I admit I had my concerns too. Upon landing in the US, I loosened my hijab before going to the immigration counter, in a moment of uncertainty when I didn't want to take off my hijab but at the same time felt highly self-conscious and to a certain extent unsafe, in it. However, today I'm so grateful for the experiences I've had in the US as a Hijabi - mostly good ones, a stark difference from the tales I've heard which were full of hatred and intolerance.

During my nearly five years in the US, Islamophobia has risen and fallen and has been a matter of serious concern these last six months or so. I've traveled alone in the metro for over 3 years, early in the mornings and late in the evenings, in packed buses and empty train cars, while wearing my hijab. I'm grateful that I've never felt uncomfortable or unsafe because of my hijab. However, on the day the Paris attacks happened in November 2015, everyone around me was concerned and advised me to be extra cautious when I was outside home by myself. To quote what my uncle told me that day, "there is such a thing as being in the wrong place at the wrong time while wearing a hijab in this country." I went grocery shopping the next day and I felt like everyone was looking at me suspiciously; it may have just been paranoia, but it felt like all the eyes were on me. I came home that day and felt shaken, self-conscious and maybe even scared. I live in the DC metro area, minutes from the nation's capital, home to thousands of Muslims and many, many Hijabis. When I was at university, I could find a person donning the headscarf anywhere on campus, at any time. I'd never felt isolated as a Muslim girl who wore the hijab. Then what changed that day? An inhuman act by a group of individuals who claimed to follow my faith, but acted against its most basic principles, thousands of miles away? Or was it the fact that I felt insecure, self-conscious, a tinge of self-pity and isolation? I soon figured out that it was the latter. I also learned an important lesson that day - once you start feeling victimized, fear gets to you and then it'll seem as if everything and everyone is conspiring against you.

I walked out of home everyday following that incident with my head held high, and extremely confident about myself. I promised myself that if I do encounter unpleasant behavior from people, I wouldn't jump to conclusions and blame it all on my being a Muslim. I've heard people recount stories of how some stranger didn't smile at them or spoke to them in an annoyed tone. Such stories always concluded stating that it was an action that stemmed from Islamophobia. Honestly, that person could have had a bad day or maybe they did not smile often or maybe they simply disliked social interaction in general. Let's not attribute these little things to Islamophobia. Let's not start thinking that the world is conspiring against us. Once we get into that kind of mindset, life gets hard. One begins to look at the world with suspicious eyes, stops trusting fellow humans and loses all faith in humanity. And most importantly, it brings along self pity. There is nothing more efficient than self pity in destroying a person's confidence and determination. I understand that people are facing discrimination all over the world because of their ethnicity, religious beliefs, sexual orientation and many other reasons. But we need to be able to differentiate between an actual case of discrimination and other trivial matters. Being part of a minority can be unfortunate, especially in times when people are garnering popularity by spreading hatred. However, never lose faith in who you truly are, as clichéd as that may sound. Embrace that which makes you different, don't let go of your place in the world and believe that you belong. Whether or not you give someone else the power to make you doubt yourself (and the rest of the world) is your choice- make the right one. It is equally important to not feel victimized without reason as it is to not victimize. Once doubt settles in, it destroys any traces of self-assurance and hope. Please don't do that to yourselves.

E M Hanifa

Music has been an integral part of my life for as long as I can remember. My parents are both excellent singers with beautiful voices and I'd never stop complaining about how I didn't inherit either of their melodious voices. My grandmother can come up with a song for every situation and my uncle is an ardent music lover. I fell asleep to some of the most sweetly and softly sung lullabies, and maybe that is the reason why I associate most of my memories to the music I enjoyed at the time. Tamil songs from the 80's have this quality of recreating an India-like atmosphere anywhere, even inside study rooms at my university in the US, a bland room with nothing but four white walls. Tamil songs from the 90's bring back the early days of my childhood, the ones I spent in India when the songs were newly released. Some songs bring back memories of a particular road trip during which I heard them on a loop and others still take me to those vacations when I killed the repeat button on my MP4 player (a device from the first decade of the 21st century, that most kids probably don't know about these days), listening to the same song repeatedly. However, there are a set of songs, a voice and several words that have been the background score to some of my fondest memories, that comfort me when I'm disturbed, which taught me my earliest spiritual lessons and still put me to sleep every night. I'm talking about E.M Nagoor Hanifa, the man whose songs have been played in every Tamil Muslim household for years now; whose songs create a spiritual connection between oneself and their Lord, and whose songs are an essential part of an entire community's celebrations and festivities.

The earliest memory I have of Eid is that of our neighborhood being lit up with colorful lights and Hanifa's songs playing on the speaker. His song brought about the festive mood and filled the air with excitement and festivity. To me, of all the Eids I've celebrated, none have been complete without his music. Even when I'm not celebrating Eid in India, I like to play his songs the previous day in an attempt to recreate that festive atmosphere. One of my favorite memories is that of my grandmother teaching me his popular song, "Iraivanidam Kaiyendhungal". I was in third grade at the time, and I wanted to participate in the school singing competition. The theme for that year was spiritual songs and this was the only song to pop into my mind. Since there was no Google at the time, my grandmother took me to her cousin who knew the lyrics to it. He wrote the words down and gave it to us. My grandmother then taught me how to sing the whole song, which ultimately led to my winning that competition. However, that was not the best thing to come out of that experience. The words to that track were one of my first ever spiritual lessons and stayed with me forever, the belief that God never denies you anything, if only you remember to ask Him for it and wait patiently. The simple lines are easy to understand even for a little kid. Yet, the message they carry is absolutely precious!

Over the years, the songs have had a surprisingly calming effect on me every time I felt uneasy or restless. It was never the lyrics. After that first time when I learned the song for that competition, I never paid close enough attention to the words to truly grasp their meaning. But they still calmed me. It could be the voice; but I think it was the memories and the emotions I associated with his tunes. When I was 10, my mom's cousin brought her a CD of these tracks. My mom played the CD at home pretty often and thus those tunes became an integral part of my growing up years. It was only recently that I started paying attention to the lyrics and regretted that I hadn't done so earlier. In an effort to learn more about my faith, I spend a few hours every week listening to learned Islamic scholars explain various aspects of the religion and many of them do leave a lasting impact on me. But, it could be the fact that the words are in Tamil, or it could be the tune, or the voice or the soul in these songs; but the words to Hanifa's songs have moved me to tears, and they reaffirm my faith in God and His mercy every time I listen to them. It could be when he talks about how we can never be thankful enough to God for all that He's done for us; about how God never ignores our prayers as long as we are persistent; about the Prophet (Peace Be Upon Him) and his life; about the very basis of what our faith is based on, La Ilaha illa Allah (there is no God but Allah); or about how this world and life are temporary stops on the way to our eternal home; but these words do leave a long-lasting impact on the listener.

One of his tracks, "Nee Koduthatharkke", is 8 and a half minutes of absolute therapy! It reminds one of all of God's blessings, the reasons one has, to be thankful to God even on the gloomiest of days. Whenever I hear the words, 'Inbam thunbam irandilum un rahmatayae virithai, antha unmai thannai unara vaithu, unathu pakkam izhuthaai' (You've hidden your blessings in both happiness and sorrow, and have invited us to your path by shedding light on that truth), I tear up- every single time. When I received news of E M Hanifa's death last year, it hit me hard, as though someone I knew personally had passed away. The voice and words have that much of a place in my life. On those mornings when I really don't look forward to the rest of the day and those evenings when all the day's stress weigh down on me, his songs are what fill me with peace and comfort my soul.