no longer living life fueled by fear and how south asian cinema taught me to be brave
love endlessly, and south asian movies
Lately, in every conversation I’ve had with different friends, the concept of fear is brought up. Whether it was being afraid of meeting up for the very first time because of the fear that the other person’s curated perception of you will burst and they realize how weird we truly are or assuming that your friend hates you, so we say nothing at all, eventually making them believe you hate them.
I’ve been thinking of how I’ve lived life fueled by fear. Fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of betrayal, and above all, fear of hurt. Perhaps while being afraid, the fear itself starts to enact as a shield of protection. As continue being afraid, naturally we hide so then no one can ever possibly hurt us. right?
But while living life with this immense dread, I found myself still yearning and desiring. Yearning for tender love that would drown me out and devour my heart. I couldn’t help but be in anguish that I had never known such love while simultaneously depriving myself of it.
Ultimately, the fear itself did nothing but serve me emptiness. Hollowness. An empty life of never knowing love. Love that I had always yearned for.
Earlier today, I finally finished watching The Journey (2004), a Malayalam film about two childhood friends that fell in love with each other. My heart is swooned with so much love but also so sore. I yearn for a love like theirs, so deep and tender. But I can’t help but wonder if I can withstand and bear the pain.
In one scene, Delilah takes Kiran to the top of a majestic waterfall. Kiran is hesitant and reminds Delilah how dangerous the waterfall is as someone passed away by slipping into the water. Delilah shushes her, and exclaims,
“If you don’t take risks, how will you ever know what you want in life?”
I pause and rewind, realizing that I had read the subtitles wrong. She actually said,
“If you don’t take risks, how will you ever get what you want in life?”
Delilah sees a cocoon on a thin branch, dangling over the waterfall. I look at the visual, wondering why the once fat caterpillar chose this place to pupate. At any given moment, the scrawny branch can snap and the cocoon will plop into the tumultuous water, dying before ever coming into its true form. But still, the caterpillar took a risk, swinging above the deadly waterfall, its cocoon wet from mist.
I unpause and watch Delilah try to look closely at the cocoon before almost slipping on the slippery cliff until Kiran grabs her arm, breathlessly making her promise to never return back to the waterfall again as she cannot live without her. The first spark in the film of their forbidden love.
I pause again, wondering about the chain of events that led to this first inkling of love. The leaves spreading across the cliff of the waterfall, the branch slowly growing and sticking out, the caterpillar crawling on the thin branch to pupate, Delilah admiring the cocoon, Kiran catching her, realizing that she is her other half.
If the caterpillar wasn’t afraid of taking the risk of choosing the wimpy branch, would Kiran and Delilah realize how strong their love is for each other? If Delilah wasn’t afraid of taking the risk of almost falling to her death, would they ever realize that they are inseparable? I wonder.
Earlier this year, I came across Queering the Map and zoomed into Bangladesh. A country of 164.7 million and only eight pink dots exists on the map. I click one of the dots and read this:
I think about her from time to time. I wonder where she is today and if my mother has ever walked by that building. What is her name? Is she still living there? What led to her realization?
After I watched the Malayalam film, I think about the lesbian from Basundhara Road. Has she ever known a love so tender but so painful and sore? How did she know if her heart was ready for that sort of love? How will I ever know? There are so many questions I want to ask her and I wonder if she has the answers.
My mind shifts to how my fear once acted as a shield of protection from hurt. But while I believed I was safe as I was away from the world, I was still hurting. So was I really protected?
I think back to a scene from Monsoon Wedding, a film I watched with my mother. As the bride’s cousin starts to prepare to perform a dance for her sangeet, her dance partner flakes. She desperately tries to get a boy from Australia she’s been flirting with to be her partner for the performance, but he rejects out of fear thinking he’ll look silly. His mother takes him aside and says,
“My darling, you have to be standing up in order to be able to fall. I mean, if you keep sitting on your ass, nothing's gonna happen. Only brave warriors fall off their horses in battle. How can kneeling cowards know what a fall is? The main thing is, you have to fight the battle.”
I don’t want to live a life charged by my own fear. I have lived a life in fear throughout my entire existence and it has done nothing but serve me a life of no love. No love for others and myself.
I wish to not be afraid. I want to tell my friends I love them more and kiss their cheeks, I want to tell strangers that I think they’re beautiful instead of thinking it to myself before walking away and never seeing them again, I want to tell a tree that they’re magnificent, I want to tell a girl that I’m in love with her.
I am no longer afraid. I will fight the battle.
this resonates deeply, thank u for this