The White Bench, by Paramita Saha, Kolkata
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Born, raised, and currently living in Kolkata, West Bengal, Paramita is a performer and arts manager who believes that art can transform lives.
As an artist, dancer, performer, and arts manager, I should say that at first, I was having a splendid pandemic. As ironic and brutal as that might sound, it’s true. I had the rare privilege of traveling inward: going in when you cannot go out. I took dance lessons online as dance companies around the world opened up their training, did yoga with all the experts I wanted to practice with, connected with family and friends on video calls. I converted my drawing room into a studio space and started offering my own online classes, to share my training with my students. I started an Instagram page, alone yet staying connected in art that was going viral. Art was pouring in, as people responded to all the creative prompts I was sharing. I was fundraising for initiatives to feed the stray animals, and I started feeding about 40 strays myself, every day. I was busy, very busy, and occupied with everything. All was well. All was well. But.
As a single woman staying alone with my cats, I was suffering in a strange way. My normal life was about extensive traveling, meeting and working with people all day. Dancing with them on the floor for hours on end, in close proximity of blood and sweat. And here I was, alone and craving physical intimacy; craving even a hug. I felt I was dying slowly. In May, Cyclone Amphan hit Kolkata. There was widespread devastation. No internet for days. I felt more and more cut off. By early June, the isolation started affecting me so much that I was finding it difficult to keep up my physical practice.
In mid-June, I was invited to a “Circle of Resilience.” A circle of ten artists and an art therapist. It was magical. Here was a safe space where everyone was laying themselves bare. Their deepest fears and anxieties. Their inabilities and deepest distresses. I felt I was home. Finally. I told the therapist that I felt lost because I felt spread thin and crushed flat, craving warmth and love.
She asked me to close my eyes and describe what I saw, as she said, “Walk.”
I started walking, in my mind, and sharing what I saw, various visuals. Then she asked me what I saw at that moment. I replied that I had reached a white room with a white floor and a white bench. She asked me to move on the floor. I moved, rolled, danced. After what seemed like a long and fulfilling time, I went and sat on the bench, sweating and breathing heavily, smiling ear to ear with the joy of flowing adrenaline.
The therapist asked how I felt.
I said, “I feel fabulous.”
I felt warm and happy. I realized that this white room with its floor and bench were my refuge. I could travel to this spot every time I needed to start all over again. Before going out to the world, I had to fix my inner world. Feel secure inside to spread the light outside. Alone yet connected in art.
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(This story was prepared for an “Imagine Another World” online storytelling workshop held October 14, 2020.)
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