No Running Away from what's going to come at you!

Today was a particularly well rested day. Also a day, I made lunch by myself after a break from cooking for months. I’d forgotten that while cooking is definitely a task, it’s also indulgence. It is after all a creative output that nourishes the instinctive need of humans to manifest their genius. Okay, so I guess I’ve really glorified my cooking today.

Sometimes, I’m amazed at my own privileged thoughts and behavior. I’ve ended up making a big deal about cooking ‘daal-chaawal’ which is pretty basic and people, all over the world cook elaborate meals every day of their lives to feed themselves and others. I mean, my cooking would have been somewhat noble if I was cooking for someone else. Cooking for self is selfish enough to not qualify for any kind of nobility.

That reminds me of that one month when I cooked three meals and two snacks a day while taking care of my covid-hit parents back in September and October. I took leave and dedicated myself to take over the daily chores of running a household and caring for the sick. I must confess that it was extremely daunting and difficult to care for covid-sick parents while attending to the daily and un-ending needs of cooking, cleaning and washing. My ‘gharelu’ avatar really bloomed and I was surprised to have been able to manage it one way or the other.

However, the constant stress of chores while also ensuring my own safety as well as the emotional trauma of uncertainty that covid brings with itself really tested my patience. Also my father was a stressed out pressure cooker ready to burst any given moment. Covid had really brought down his spirits and he was not just fighting a physical illness but also an emotional battle.

From what I know of him, he was probably planning a life for his family just-in-case he didn’t survive covid. Also the fact that we were in Dubai, away from our roots and family made things worse. My parents (read dad, not mom) were constantly plagued with a ‘what-if’. What if they’d have to leave this world without the gestures of ultimate farewell? What if their kids did not make a good life for themselves? After all, their daughter was still unmarried and son still studying.

Mom, Me, Dad

This anxiety often manifested itself in outbursts of both emotion and aggression. I found my father losing his happiness each day as he grew angrier and more frustrated. It often resulted in certain outbursts on me and my brother for no valid reasons. I would absorb most of it quietly, telling myself of his situation. I tried to stay calm and positive. But I often cried at nights. For unexplained reasons. I often worried myself sick. I often stayed up all night despite the physical exertion that days had demanded.

More importantly, this phase helped me empathize with my father and his possible childhood experiences. I often found myself angry at my father for being impatient. For being angry. Sometimes negligent but more often than not, highly idealistic. Ideals that only ‘he’ cared about. And ideals that had more to do with other people than ourselves. Ideals that were many a times selfish. It brought me to a point that I had no other option but to understand. His reasons and his outlook were most likely an outcome of where he came from. The poverty in his childhood. The sick and narrow patriarchal setups of Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan. And of course the default privilege which comes with being a man in this world.

I tried to visualize how his childhood must have been. Needless to say, it was way more inconvenient than it was for his children. He must have been in constant competition for bits and pieces. He must have been in constant judgement of being the youngest child. He must have been overshadowed, criticized and most likely said no to. He must have been denied love and respect. Of course these musings are not just a figment of my imagination. I know things about my family which help me corroborate and build a past situation that I was physically never a part of.

But what’s truly interesting is –

1. Our childhoods and upbringing decide who we become as people

2. Unfortunately, it’s not just our childhood but also that of our parents

So basically there’s no running away from what’s going to come at you. What you make of it is important. And there’s absolutely no need to hurry to understand this. I mean it’s dawned upon me after almost living half my life. It’s a process which may or may not happen with everyone. But really, this year has been quite a teacher. They say Saturn is a hard taskmaster. It will whip you until you get moving to a direction which is your calling. In this particular case, I think it’s whipped me to move towards empathy and forgiveness. Two qualities my mother armed me with when I was dealing with negative emotions this year.

The year is now closing soon. Although it might just mean a turn of the solar calendar and nothing more. But a man (and a woman) has got to hold onto hope, right?

This reminds me, that I’ll probably order dinner now. Since I’m so tired of all the cooking and cleaning. Ha-ha, just kidding.                         

Exciting times call for saying goodbyes!

Life’s been pretty exciting of late. I am moving houses! It’s almost become an annual ritual. Moving houses thrice in 2 years is not a mean deal in general and not at all so in Mumbai. Yet, the journey to find myself a house took me from Chembur to Bandra to Parel to Colaba. I’ve finally found something I kind of like in Worli. The quest has been inconvenient especially because this is the holiday season we’ve all looked forward to. Anyway now that the hunt is almost over, it’s the emotionally difficult time to pack my bags and say goodbye.

I’ve been particularly bad at saying goodbyes. Letting go is a life-lesson which is majorly work in slow-progress. Every time I leave a place, people or situation, I feel some part of my life is coming to a still or worse, an end. Stepping out of comfort zone has gotten difficult and I can feel my inertia weighing me down more than it has before. I blame it on experience and caution it brings. 

But then again, even as a child I cried every time I returned from my Nani’s place. And wept when friends and relatives left. It pained me to move schools. It pained me to let go of teachers I loved. And it was a kick-in-my-gut when I left home. And each time since, whether it’s returning from a week long break or a 2 month annual vacation, leaving home’s been the most difficult emotional task I’ve undertaken.

Although there’s a side of me that’s glad about it. I think it’s allowed me to spread my wings in lengths I’d choose and the confidence to steer towards unknown directions. And to let me fall in love with the most unsuspecting situations (and people, khee hee).

The other day, a friend and I agreed on how sexual tension in a given situation keeps things going. How it just makes any equation more exciting. How it can be the sole reason for people to do things they’d otherwise not do. This tension, which sometimes goes through a metamorphosis and becomes love (no clue what that means but to each, their own interpretation) is probably the strongest force for human beings to commit an act which is outside of their general behavior.

It manifests itself strongly not just when one is falling in love. But also, when one is heartbroken. One of the things I randomly believe in is that pain and heartbreak changes you far more intensely than the pleasant phases of early sexual tension and falling for another. It just pushes you to question everything about yourself. It’s golden time for correction, re-organizing your life and moving towards becoming the person you chose to be.

Not everyone feels so strongly about all of this though. Mostly even I don’t. After all, it’s just one of those things we don’t want to acknowledge. It’s super convenient to stay emotionally unavailable to yourself. It’s possible to live a life without giving these conversations a chance. Conversations that we have with ourselves.

Just like the one I am having now with this blog post.

It’s 27^th December. 4 days to go before a new year arrives. Not hoping for hash brownies to drop from the sky but still giving myself a break with a dash of optimism for 2021.

Let’s see. Let’s see.

After a full day of 'Mehnat' to find 'Chatt'

Bye 2020! (Merry Christmas & Happy 'Tulsi Jayanti'

 

25^th December was almost always supposed to be just Christmas. However, after 32 years of being a Hindu in India, I discovered that 25^th December is apparently also ‘Tulsi Poojan Divas’. Got a whatsapp forward on one of the larger family groups claiming this ‘Tulsi Jayanti’ and why we must celebrate and revere the ‘Tulsi Maa’.

Funny, how Hindutva is getting insecure about its share of voice on Christmas. And also hats off that they are relentless and always manage to come up with a crappy sensation that gains instant traction across the hateful hearts of so many of us.

Anyway, today was a good day. I woke up early and met some extremely positive people who beamed with natural kind happiness. The fact that people can look and convey ‘healthy’ is very inspiring. Got home to enjoy a lazy afternoon with poha and chai. Also received three Myntra parcels which I’d ordered for myself as Christmas presents. More so, bought some lipsticks and shadows which cheered up the consumer in me.

Typing this down as the night arrives and I listen to the good old ‘Coke Studio Pakistan’ and ‘Tajdar Junaid’ as friends come down to watch movies and have dinner.

Can’t believe I’ve managed a happy post. So unlike me, especially while typing blog entries. Confusion, question and uncertainty can result into exploring your darkest corners, facing your shit and then learning to live with it, each day, stronger. It leads you go through a skimming sieve that makes you flow through a tornado blowing immense amount of dust, off you. And bringing you to a world that is bigger and full of possibilities. It leaves you feeling that you’re ready to once again, put yourself out there in the world in the pursuit of your dreams and hopes.

Merry Xmas!

Bye, 2020.  

I now understand why isolation is a torture technique

It's the Christmas of 2020.

The much awaited festive energy to end this brutal year is here. A friend mentioned that Christmas is a modern concept with no reference in the 'Bible'. Regardless, it's a much celebrated festival and we all could use an excuse for a break.  

*The people in the slum next door, sing and celebrate into the night*

I decided to write this blog on a midnight instinct and it's 1:35 AM IST right now with Mumbai being chillier than it usually is. The un-lock has brought back the spirit of Mumbai and it feels live-able again. The funny thing about Mumbai is that even though I love it, it's difficult to live here. Rents are high, traffic is bad, roads are narrow and time is short. Life paces and years gallop as our daily routines chime in mindless task based lifestyles. 

The opportunity to pause barely presents itself and when it does, it's bound by caveats. And limitations. Of time, of money and the attached cost of lost alternatives. Sometimes, that alternative is love. Sometimes, it's friendship. But mostly, it's mindfulness. About oneself and her environment. 

I imagine myself staring as life rushes past me, with its slithering sharp pace and a blinding charm that mutes away inner voices. Especially the inconvenient ones. Its reassuring safety, which is truly, just a habit and inertia of comfort, keeps one from revaluating mindsets and choices. Clearly, these barriers are solidified over time and it takes quite a bit of will to accept them and break through them. And what comes in handy the most, is a trust group. People who support you and believe in you.

Funnily, in the last one week, at-least three people expressed more confidence in me than I'd have given myself credit for. Their kind observation worked like a catalyst to stir a series of emotions in a question-answer format within me. I asked myself questions and responded honestly to them. In the process, I could identify my barriers, my real issues, some grievances and some random notches of sub-conscious excuses. 

It also helped me remind myself of lessons I'd learnt the hard way and I swore a few years back to live by them. I am listing them below as a ready reminder for self:

1. Let life happen. Give it a chance. Be fluid.

2. One can control very few things. Control them well. But only control, what you can.

3. Present will definitely shape future. Still, live in the present.

We tend to forget life learnings as an outcome of a hectic template-led life which is plagued with continuous and mindless application of self in a rather superficial but consuming manner. Amidst the glamour of a cosmopolitan millennial lifestyle, I'd gotten quite out of touch with myself.

The isolation made sure, only demons showed up from deep inside my mind. Angels were clearly quarantined some place away. Demons destruct will and judgement. Causing pity, pain and frustration. In such states of battling once-in-a-100-years emergencies as well as personal setbacks, it's justified to lose mind (and self-confidence).

I now understand why isolation is a torture technique. 

Strangely on Christmas, I've ended up discussing everything not so Merry. The dark side of personality continues to have an upper-hand, I guess. Btw, this is conspicuous, even in the clothes I wear.

[Wardrobe Hues: 40% Black, 30% Blue, 20% White, 5% Red] - "This is an outcome of natural gravitation I feel towards these colors but I'd say it's also a 'Statement'."