Commonality

I broke off with a Doctor whom I dated for 3.67 months when I was in London. The on again, off again kept on for several years. Nearly a decade later I decided to fly this person down to see how much of that “love” was alive. I realized after 8 days and 7 nights of staying together that we were fanning a dead fire. It was not going to produce any heat, warmth, or comfort. I chose to walk away from the ashes. We didn’t have much in common. We had changed and grown separately. We thought we were on the same page but the edges were burning. The relationship had run its course.

When the grounds of commonality change, the view changes. We may no longer be looking at the same thing. That’s how much it changes.

I grew up in India and tried to keep in touch with my childhood friends. Just the other day one claimed, “You have so much attitude.” That statement made me think have I grown an “attitude” or have I grown… maybe grown differently than the commentator?

Upon some thinking I learnt a few facts about myself and some observations of life in general. One’s environment contributes greatly in how one acts, reacts, thinks and speaks. The frame in which the image is inserted constitutes the full picture.

I have an elder cousin whom I admired a little more then than I do now. Merely a few months older, the cousin’s books, clothes, school uniforms, shoes were passed down. One tends to try and fit in an already fitted fabric, clearly uncomfortably. I have stepped in his shoes literally and figuratively.

Growing up in India had its many privileges and like any place on this earth a few fall backs. I grew up in a community that had passed down hatred and dislike for the uncommon. Hindus versus Muslims. This cousin, I once admired, once told that he hated all Muslims and he would prefer them all dead.

Although, I grew up in India, I had the fortune of living in London for three years. My housemates were from my neighbouring country Pakistan. I would observe them closely, especially during a cricket match. They looked like us, moved like us, used the same spices to cook similar dishes, loved, greeted, hugged, and were moved by the same tears as I. That experience made me more global. There was no question of acceptance or tolerance. It was a knowing we are the same. We had a lot in common and a few unique differences about ourselves. Most importantly they never spoke about or hinted their intent to blow up anyone or anything. It is safe to say they never thought about doing so either.

It is also safe to state that my cousin has locked his assumptions in a time framed by inaccurate interpretations. It is also safe to state that my childhood friend has locked their memories in a time frame that precedes the current me. I. Pratik now. I refuse to be the frog in a well. I want out. Looking to be a part of an ocean, its vastness, its variety beneath… Hidden treasures from a myriad of cultures, sunken ships that tell a tale of chivalry, and swimming seahorses.

I feel I have grown. My environment and experiences and explorations have contributed a great deal to that growth. I have changed.

– Pratik Mamtora, Managing Editor

Pratik Mamtora was born & raised in India. He has lived in London, United Kingdom for three years & absolutely loved it there. Pratik has a Bachelor’s in English from India and Master’s (ABD) from UNA.   He loves to read and write, especially poetry. Pratik enjoys coffee & conversation and is passionate about serving  the community. He invests himself in understanding the needs of the modern world and the evolving spirituality within. Pratik is known to walk that extra mile to make others happy. If you ever meet… or when you meet him, Pratik will make you smile.