Gene Pool

Your genetics load the gun. Your lifestyle pulls the trigger.

It was March 1, 2015 when I first felt like writing about my Gene trail. Lying in bed alongside my mother, I cried so bad I almost howled. I may have shed tears, screamed my heart in later days but I don’t think anything compares that moment.

One month had passed since Naniji’s death but it took a toll on my unlike anything ever in my life. I remember asking mom some randomly phrased questions about being a good child and also related to my coming out (something which was yet to happen then). Of all the broken sobbing replies from mom, one particular hit me hard. She had said that my Nani was a clean hearted, always helping soul, just that she had a hard zabaan (tongue).

It hit me hard because that was exactly the same I have felt about myself in those initial years of me trying to understand the complex me. It hit me hard because I felt my mom was always floating in the same waters, extremely helpful but stingy, complaining tongue. It hit me hard because I had always taken pride in this personality, thinking at least I don’t hide my real feelings, no matter the situation. It hit me hard because in that very moment I knew I need to change myself and change pronto.

I am the mastery of my genes, not a victim of them.

I see around myself today and it scares me how my brother has taken into the worst part of my father’s character. This is not to say he did not take any good ones or create a better one. It’s just that how ignorant we can be at times to not see that we are not evolving in better person, as it should be, and instead becoming a victim of our own genes.

It scares the hell out of me seeing my parents talking only about street dogs among themselves, as if bringing any other topic may lead to uncomfortable environment. It’s like sweeping the pertinent topics of discussion under the rug, till it become a mountain of problem. It happens every time.

The worst part is, like brought out above, is how ignorant can one be, or how blank out can one make ourselves from the tough talks. I refuse to believe that they are dumb enough to understand the faults in their personality. Or is it an ego that is so stubborn to not make them even the slightest of effort to maintain even one peaceful conversation, without anyone raising their voice or using words.

Recently, Miki Mami mentioned about me having taken to Mamu’s trait of analyzing what is worth listening to and what is not, and not letting the unwanted even enter my ear for the age old ek kaan se suno, doosrey kaan se nikal do action. If I have understood something is not worth listening, I act smart and respectful, even as the talk somehow follows an invisible OHM sign, Ω, shaped path over my head. I love this ability in myself but I can’t be all stringent about it. If needed, I must and will make changes to it.

Miki Maami shared a lot of good qualities of a husband in Mamu. He may not be perfect, but he is always by her side, in sickness and in health. I could not stop wishing even more blessings for them in that very moment. And I am sure their marriage will always be etched in my mind for all the beautiful things I want to emulate in my own.

Back in my family, I see Dad acting pretty irritating with his calling out for Deepali by her name. He lowers his pitch and keeps on doing it in a fast loop. I think he feels it’s funny, but it is NOT. Sadly, I have become so accustomed to his rigid nature, one he would not change even if anyone tell him about the same, that today I found out a way to even laugh in this.

Dad is a striking copy of his mother, my Maanji, who with her weird aristocratic calling of her maid with a pseudo name of Rampiyari, is a slitting (voice) image of each other. I once questioned her about this name and she told me that she grew up in a big affluent family with multiple servants, 24x7, at her disposal, one of whom was Rampiyari.

Well, I did not grow up likewise. I still have trouble even letting Deepali to pick my plates. Not to be high nosed, but I am happy to live in reality.

I may not have perfect genes, but I do have great ones because they have made me lucky enough to know where I would like to master them with my lifestyle changes. I just hope others see this too and make a better person out of them. Because in the end, we all are learning from each other.

A long healthy life is no accident. It begins with good genes, but it also depends on good habits.