Lovely day

Highlights:

My tuck jumps have gotten steadily better. I’ve gone from not being able to do more than 2-3 at a stretch in February, to being able to do a slippy cheat version for 30 seconds (cheating was the only way to endure the interval) on my birthday, to today doing them really bloody well for the entire interval.

I felt seriously stoked. Working out within the physical restrictions of a 4x5ish space in my living room at home has upped my game. Who’dathunk?

Vc had a light work day and so we spent it together relaxing, just doing our own thing. It is a seriously underrated luxury.

I cooked lunch today as opposed to eating leftovers from dinner the previous night, which is usually the strategy. Sindhi kadhi, methi aloo and some crispies on the side — perfect for the threatening-to-pour-any-minute-now day that it was.

Then it came down finally. It poured the fuck out at sunset and things have cooled off considerably.

I went the whole hog and made Biryani today. Friday onions, a separate meat curry cooked in coconut milk, half cooked basmati rice. Layered and cooked on the dum. It was divine and I even took a picture, which I looked at much later, only to discover it’s a perfect depiction of how good the biryani smelt and looked because I was clearly in too much of a rush to dig in.

Two years ago: There’s still time for another   Four years ago: On the calmness of being at home

Monday Tarot Message: Finding walking fine lines and finding intuitive balance

The two of Pentacles speaks to me me of duality, of course. But today it reminds me of fine lines, double-edged swords, two sides of a coin. How sometimes polar opposites have just a hair’s breadth between them.

That’s how it is in the various emotional balancing acts we perform too. A whisker of a margin between keeping safe and keeping away. Between drawing boundaries and keeping the world out. Between being cock-sure and cutting out new possibilities. Between loving solitude and feeling isolated. Between enjoying stillness and getting getting stuck.

The harder we cleave to the poles or extremes of any practice, the quicker we are to land in a rigid, inflexible place that will inevitably be detrimental to growth. Growth requires flexibility and movement, the space for change, to even change your mind sometimes. Even about “healthy” habits.

It’s true of the opposite too. It’s a fine line between allowing a natural relaxation of a healthy habit and actually slipping into unhealthy territory again. Between consciously, mindfully transgressing a habit and being in denial about the underlying process influencing it.

Today’s card makes a case for understanding and compassion for the parts of us that tend to cleave to any state in a rigid, unchanging manner. We do this mostly do this as a means to stay safe, but compulsive safety-seeking at the cost of all else indicates that there is something deeper we probably need to look at so we can arrive at a more soft and gentle means to heal and move beyond our limitation.

The work is to find a balance through intuition. To open up the self-limiting processes and beliefs we may hanging on to, in the name of health. To soften and invite allowance. To befriend that inner knowing that can show us the way and tell us when to eat that cookie if you need it, when to take a break from therapy, when to binge-watch that TV show, when to take a day off.

Two years ago: High by the beach
Four years ago: Back to base

Shit-show

Like I said the other day, I don’t understand anything that’s happening in this country anymore. While the COVID situation is continuing to erupt every singe day in new and horrific ways, our Health Minister was elected Exec. Chairman of the WHO. That Bill Gates conspiracy theory is beginning to sound very real to me. It fits right in. And the brazenness of it all is frankly really, really frightening.

As life slips back to normal, as it has this week, I have been tentative about whether I want to jump in with the wave, or take my time. Erring on the side of taking my time, I have been confronted with the difficult task of searching out meaning in the midst of this trail of devastation and injustice that is being left behind. I find the need to stay with it, to examine and really look at the dirt, to face the full force of the disgust it churns up in me. Because I know the only way a meaningful way to continue will emerge, is from facing the depth of the ills we have brought to this country. Even us, the silent minority that pushed ourselves to the corners, enabling this filthy, greedy, evil majority to power. So powerful that they now owe nobody any explanations for the horrors they perpetrate on a daily basis.

And we just have to watch, paralysed.

I fear the muck and the filth that has been uncovered runs the risk of being relegated to the back burner once again. If we turn away now, there will be no looking back again.

I feel this so keenly.

One year ago: On compassion, connection and belonging
Two years ago: Ground control to Major Tom

Babies

The only kind that interest me:

***

It’s been a quiet few days again. Meddling about the plants. Cleaning here and there. Cooking some. Sleeping lots. Reading a little again. And I may be getting eerielt comfortable with it all.

The silence. The aloneness. The containment. The sufficiency of it all.

One year ago: An opportunity and a gift
Two years ago: We keep this love in a photograph

Minimal

Things that excite me these days.

Before I get startled by the price for a bunch like this. 50 rupees last week. 55 this week. And yes we’re running through entire bunches in about a week. Don’t ask.

Mid-week work from home scenes. Aka: life. I have really enjoyed being locked down with VC. Much, much more than I imagined possible. And by that I mean for a simplified, pared down, minimal routine that we have had, it has somehow been richer and fuller, together. I’m not even sure how.

Blue hour that otherwise makes me slightly blue, I find bittersweet and beautiful, some days.

One year ago: Happy bytes
Four years ago: Malleswaram market things

Inside is alright

It’s been impossibly hot the last week or so. Like so, so hot, I felt like I was in Goa in the end of May, when the oppressive summer heat would drive me to tears. The last few days of that punishing heat that would really peak and take things to a crescendo before the first rains at the end of May or beginning June. It was like that, except high on the punishing side and absolutely nil on the relief-of-rain side. Our AC desperately needs servicing but since we’re in a red zone, that’s not happening any time soon. So the nights have been uncomfortable. The days have also been borderline miserable, and I have been complaining a fair bit.

Even so, I think indoors has been better than outdoors. One trip out into the wild outdoors, beyond the restrictions we’ve been living within, to buy some booze, and to buy some fancy groceries we don’t get in my neighbourhood proved it. It’s probably also the way that our bodies are now habituated to the energy requirement of a life enclosed within the four walls at home, but I was wiped clean from just that outing and needed a long afternoon nap. The heat was sapping and I was so glad to be back home.

I am turning into quite the homebody, even more than before, even more than I thought possible. I am slightly grumpy about life resuming the way it is. Also appalled at the staggering stupidity of lifting this whole lockdown in the haphazard and cruel manner that it is. When we are nowhere near the peak, or flattening the curve. It would also be accurate to say I am a bit scared too, and will not be venturing out for the next week or ten days, even though we are now allowed to.

Strange, no?

I don’t understand anything that’s going on with this country anymore. And when I try to it just brings up extreme grief, helplessness, frustration and anger. I have not hated being here ever, as much as I do now.

***

It did rain briefly last night though. One of those classic Bangalore downpours that shows promise and comes with a clap and a bang, but disappears with just as much gusto. It cooled things down a touch, but not enough, and nearly not for long enough. Today was overcast and tantalisingly grey, all day long.

It was a slow day and I just decided it wasn’t a day for productivity. And I spent the day cleaning, taking my time, listening to Advaita in the hope that it will induce some rain. It certainly induces a rainy state of mind for me.

For two reasons:

It takes me back to this late monsoon-y sunset beach visit (its the set of washed out sepia toned pictures) S, Niyu and I took back in 2012 or so. Back when we did that kind of thing every weekend. We’d grab a beer each from the supermarket, drive to the nearest secluded beach (and we had scoped a good number of those, away from shacks and restaurants and people in general), plug in our ears with our respective music and just chill. Either walk about, or just sit and stare, wonder, drift away.

And then in December last year, when we were in Coorg, S brought Advaita back. It had been years since I heard them and we listened to it some on the drive there and back, particularly when it rained a little. It’s now in a monsoon playlist on my phone.

***

Apparently the promise of rain is thanks to a cyclone thats brewing. In addition to everything else, we’re now prepping to evacuate a million people to safety. I don’t understand anything anymore.

And so I’ll take solace in my music and the mundane machinations of my everyday life. Pulp those mangoes, get that workout done, reheat leftovers for lunch, finish that assignment due today, take that call for a reading this evening, read a little. Inside is alright.

Life is so strange.

Four years ago: Beach vibes 

Monday Tarot Message: On desire (and listening in)

There is something so compellingly hopeful about Aces, signifying new beginnings, ripeness of potential, fresh inspiration, new journeys. All Aces, but especially the Wands, speak to me of the fire in my belly. It reminds me to tune in to my desires, of all kinds.

Two things can happen with that energy. When we’re accustomed to listening to our own voice, we may run with it, fuel the fire and stoke it till it consumes us and changes something elemental about us. If we are governed more by external voices, we run the risk of dousing it completely. Usually for fear of failing, or not feeling gratified, or displeasing someone, amongst other things.

Desire is often looked at as “bad”, for making us “self-serving”. But it is worth becoming curious and interested in them because our desires are our inner voices showing up. When we listen often enough, we begin to get good at telling which desires to put energy into, and which ones to let slide.

Rules, expectations and externally perceived ways of being usually feed our conditioning and socialisation, teaching us to quell our desires. Those “bad” things that make us stray from what’s best for the greater good. And so we avoid focusing on ourselves, we stay within the lines, play safe. And in that way, we minimise our desires and our bypass intuition.

Our real work though, is to get intimate with desire, with the heart of our inclinations, the inner throbbing nucleus unmet aspiration. So we can discern what makes our spirits shine, heats sing and fills us with life. And then we can run with it. When we engage with our desires in this way, we build the capacity to chase what is good for us. What brings harmony and alignment, and feeds our soul.

How does it feel to just listen to your desires? Even before you act on them, can you just listen? Without speculating. Without labeling or judging them. What do you need, so you do that without worrying about whether it is useful, productive, efficient, realistic, prestigious or lucrative enough?

Desire can be one of the greatest teachers, in meeting your true self. Can you listen?

Two years ago: Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Four years ago: Fairy lights

Turning and turning

It is kind of fascinating that:

  1. yesterday, I wrote about a sense of fullness in my life — not just for me personally, but in what I share with VC. And exactly a year ago, on that same day, I wrote about our relationship feeling renewed.
  2. two days ago, I wrote about feeling quiet and contained. And exactly a year ago, on that same day, I wrote about wordlessness and feeling quiet.

I believe we’re all always going in circles. Our growth isn’t linear or upwards, but in spirals, and we find ourselves back in old and familiar spaces time an time again, feeling like we are in the same spot, but knowing deep within that it is different. Deeper, somehow.

Like seeing the sun set every single day, as I have these last almost-60 days. And knowing every single day, that even in the sameness and familiar, repetitive moving away from the sun, something is different.

One year ago: Growing friendship
Two years ago: I’ve been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you

The fullness of ease and balance

Going through another phase of really enjoying this stay-in business. Cooking, gardening, exercising, cleaning, pottering, tending to forgotten corners of the house, napping, bingeing on TV, staying up late, spring cleaning, hanging out with VC, chatting with Niyu, video-calling S. There seems to be time for it all. All the things I usually put off for “later” is here in the now.

There’s also no rush about any of it. I wake up and go with the way I’m feeling on any given morning. Energetic, sprightly? Great! A little lazy and wanting to sleep in? Let’s do that, let’s exercise later and get about the day accordingly, not doing all that I might ave planned to. Feeling downright lazy? Cancel the day.

This morning I had one of those slow days. I nearly skipped exercising altogether, because there were chores to be done and that usual toss-up played out: workout and skip chores or skip chores and workout? Except a third choice is emerging these days. One that only comes up when I’m not time-bound. So I worked out, slowly, because that’s the kind of day it was. No high-intensity jumping about. And then we got to the chores, VC doing his bit, me doing mine. And I took twice the amount of time I usually do. Going about it probably “inefficiently” — but it was okay. At lunch time VC made grilled cheeses toasts for me, and Maggi for him, while I cut up a plate of mangoes. And we called it lunch.

This is new for us. Certainly very new for me. This level of relaxation, the ease, the ability to just go with the way the day is unfolding and the way my body feels. An older me might have fretted about the slow start, the sloth in my body, and tried to whip myself to be productive and efficient. I might have felt terrible about wasting an entire morning to chores. I might have felt really guilty about VC having to make me “lunch” and a lunch of bread cheese, processed noodles and mangoes just wouldn’t cut it.

But somehow, it’s okay. There have been many days like this, and they’ve all been okay.

I have had phases of easing up like this before, and every time it has come from being very tuned in to what I am feeling. This is no different, I want to say. Except there is a difference. No previous phase has lasted this long, and been so enjoyable. Something has changed, the energy around this ease is different this time around.

It has come with a deeper connection, a newfound ability to fill out time, take space and take place, and really lean into intentionality a little bit more. Every little mundane thing that I do, feels very intentional. And I have a tiny inkling that is what has made the difference.

Our home feels more lived in, because I feel more present to every corner. Dusting, tending, prettying — because I now have to do it all and I have discovered I have the time, the patience and I enjoy it. The garden is abloom because we’re much more involved than we have been. I feel the fittest and leanest I have in a long while, because there’s so much more movement and exercise happening even outside of the scheduled workouts. We’re hanging out and conversing and enjoying things together — games, movies, silence.

Last week was a tumultuous one. For me, but consequently for VC too. I felt volatile and I erupted more than once. It was emotionally challenging. I felt and expressed anxiety that what we have had and enjoyed will not last forever, that it will be ruined. I felt torn up about that, horrible that I had no control in doing what one needs to to just make it stay. Until I realised; of course it’s going to change. Of course it’s not going to last forever. Of course it’s not in my control. 

And then things eased up again. Differently, this time. I know something very elemental has changed for us during this period of lockdown. I know things have shifted for VC, and I know they certainly have for me. Even though the physical reality of our life isn’t very different from before, something is different. Especially now than when the lockdown began.

It feels like a return. A return to connection, return to love, return to beauty and a return to ease and balance. And this feeling has really filled me up most days this past week.

The biggest difference by far though, is that I am not hanging on to it. I am not filled with thoughts of wanting to bottle it up for the future. I am just here, experiencing the balance, within and without. Witnessing the ease and flow that has made a remarkably different entry. Savouring this fullness now. As it is.

One year ago: Renewed relationships
Two years ago: April

The sweet confinement of aloneness

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn,
anything or anyone that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.

— David Whyte

I don’t know when it happened, but this extended solitude and stillness has filtered much from my daily life. Chatter. Energy sapping conversation. Distractions in activity. Distractions in thoughts. Distractions in being. People and their behaviour. Inner circles and outer circles. Essential must-haves and non-essential great-to-haves-but-can-totally-do-without. Habits. Obsessions and compulsions. High standards. My own overactive kind. My own hyperactive energy.

It was probably a gradual and gentle descent and not a single, pivotal moment. Somehow everything seems very narrowed down to the bare minimum. Only showing what is really needed. Giving me proof, again and again, of all that I really need to survive, get on, and be happy. Like the barely visibly shiny dot of a pinhead.

Has this period made anyone else frightfully quiet, inward and still? Almost motionless. Minimal. Pared down. Stripped. Naked. Free. Light. Unadorned.

Necessary. Breathing. Alive.

Minimal-everything has been an ongoing theme and pursuit in my life for many years now. And I actively work on minimising (sometimes a little too ruthlessly) all aspects of my life — whether consumption or people — reflecting and course correcting at regular intervals. And still, nothing has brought me to this level of containment where everything feels subtle. Delicately complex. Yet understated. Delicious.

Even with the days I long to be out, the missing of people, the longing for the trees and the outdoors, the dreams of travelling, my life and my days feel full. The realisation of this dichotomy, this crazy contradiction, is so thrilling.

I already feel a new way of life has slipped under my skin. I am seeing changes have already just happened even as I was considering them just a few weeks ago. The newness has tucked itself in the notches of my joints, sprouting new muscles from beneath my bones. It feels natural, like a part of me, re-growing. I feel like now my insides need to be re-accustomed to it all.

I was telling N the other day, I feel like I need to re-learn how to be a person out in the world again. And I find myself treading slowly, in that direction, utterly sure about what I don’t want to do.

Baby steps.

The darkness has been hard. The aloneness has been heavy at times. The slowness challenging sometimes. The quiet, haunting. But I see how necessary it was. I see the sweetness of it all. The magic. The ways of the universe.

One year ago: Quiet
Four years ago: Things about VC that I never want to forget #16

Slow it down some more

The sky is different every day. The sunlight slants differently every day — harsh and bright sometimes, muted sometimes. The moon changes every day — fading out and filling itself up over and over.

Much of this change, these shifts and movements happen gently, almost unnoticeably. Taking their own sweet time. Entire days. Weeks and weeks. A whole season, sometimes.

Surely it’s okay for me to be nonuniform? It’s okay for me to be imperfect and different every day. It’s okay for every day to be different too. Maybe that’s when the colours will begin to show.

I feel like I’ve slowed down even more in the last week, if that is even possible. I feel even more contained, withdrawn, quiet. Within.

Every day is different. No day is perfect. It’s okay to take time.

Four years ago: Distressed but happy

Monday Tarot Message: The Establishment vs. The Self

The Hierophant is the male counterpart of the High Priestess, and represents the Establishment, conventional rules, fundamental principles and belief systems that govern acceptable ways of being in any group or system. It could be a workplace, friends circle, family system, society, country at large.

I also see him as a gatekeeper of a deep spiritual ability to guard our Authentic Self. An advocate of necessary rule-breaking as a way of living, that while in keeping with the Establishment’s values, upholds asking difficult questions about what values we are chasing personally.

The Hierophant reminds us of be aware of the difference between:

  1. group values and personal values
  2. rules that make us rigid and take us away from, versus those that are soft and more aligned with our personal values
  3. rules that serve Belonging versus Personal Individuation

All groups have said and unsaid rules that govern who gets to belong and who doesn’t. These could vary wifely and include things like:

  1. I must always be happy and positive
  2. I must be married by age 30 and bear least 2 children
  3. I must not grow a beard
  4. I must be religious.
  5. I must not be emotional.
  6. I must choose security over satisfaction and join the family business

Following such (And other) rules unquestioningly definitely ensures a secure place within the group, but the Hierophant reminds us to stay akin with our spirit, to know when the rule following is coming at a great personal cost. This happens often, when our personal values and group values collide, causing tension.

Life requires building an appetite for healthy rule-breaking, knowing when to question the norms, how to navigate them in a useful way in order to construct a life that is personally satisfying too.

Serving the group ticks the right boxes, satisfies the ego and brings external appreciation. Whereas serving the Self is a quiet process with no outward accolades. Individuation asks us to question the rules, to break down established constructs and reconstruct them when necessary.

Questioning established rules is also to call for change — a deeply unsettling prospect for the majority. To be the one that bucks the rules of the system is invariably seen as being selfish and self-serving. And so it requires being okay with meeting displeasure and unease from the other. It requires the ability to face being judged, disliked and to be unacceptable. To be keenly comfortable with fear, uncertainty and the loneliness of this process. Not with a false sense of bravado, but an inner strength instead.

We typically believe visionaries and change-makers are blessed with fearlessness. We hark their bravery as a prime quality, but I think it is more likely that they are just more comfortable with their fears. They are more friendly with uncertainty. They are okay with taking the risks of going against the grain, and they’re in deep commitment to the personal alignment of their inner Selves, over the easier, quickly-rewarded alignment to the Establishment.

***

Lately, I have been thinking about this a lot, in the context of two aspects of my life — my growing sensitivity/intolerance to right wing rhetoric in this country, and my evolving ideas around marriage. The two are also very closely related as my personal politics have grown and evolved. I now find myself in a strange new place, where I find myself having to regain belonging again. In a new way, from my new sense of self, having shed all the things I did to belong before — many of which came at a cost to my individual personhood.

Aligning strongly and firmly with personal values that oppose the rules and values of the majority no doubt comes with a loss of belonging and oneness with people around. I feel this deeply in both the aspects I have mentioned above. I feel increasingly like I don’t belong in this country anymore, like this is no place for me anymore. And I feel like a bit of an outsider in the family I have acquired through marriage.

I feel strongly, now more than ever, willing to contend with the inherent loneliness and fear of being in this place, because to choose to flow with the norm just to avoid it feels like too high a cost to pay. My sense of self has grown too strong now, I cannot seem to turn back on this and go back to some of my unthinking, unquestioning ways from before.

Two years ago: Please don’t go
Four years ago: Summer evenings 2

Never gets old

Watched Piku tonight. It never get’s old.

Yep, I’m still not over it, I still can’t believe it.

One year ago: All the hearts
Two years ago: Sweet dreams are made of these
Four years ago: April

Fed up

I’m really tired, fully fed up and hopelessly done with being Indian. I have no way to undo this part of my status and identity — this Indianness — and I realise that this past week with the real news just escalating silently and the atrocities now playing out in broad daylight for all of us to just watch silently, locked up in the safety of my home, I have never felt more disconnected and like an outsider in this country.

Even to understand this crisis as a wake up call from the deep slumber that we have been in, allowing all manners of inequality to fester and foster, is a privilege right now. And that feels so darned pathetic. Around me I see people, like you and me, just not getting it. Just not angry enough. Just not worried enough. Just not thinking enough. There are fewer and fewer people who I can share my true feelings in all honesty. There are a paltry few who would get it without telling me to stop complaining or surrender to the situation and be happy/grateful with what I have.

I’ve had enough of the powers that be that are so brazen now in their single-minded focused pursuit of image-making and public relations. They don’t even remotely care about inclusivity, duty or service. I have been asking myself, what use was all of this unnecessary effort to make us feel unified and patriotic (by banging pots and flashing torches) is we don’t have a sense of inclusivity in the ethos of that patriotism? Even I don’t feel included, what about the people out on the streets with no homes, no food, nowhere to go?

Clearly when those requests were made, the PM was only talking to people who have homes, preferably with balconies and yards and porches, where they could go out and perform these absurd tasks dutifully. Like the rats dancing to the Pied Piper’s tunes, only to go and land in the giant sewers of doom.

We make such a huge noise about development and smart cities and what not, and we don’t even care a dot about the blood, sweat, tears and hands and feet that make those monstrous dreams a reality. We throw them under the bus the first chance we get. We treat them like pestilence, like dirt that flew into our territories when we are questioned about the efficiency of our policy. We blame them for the gaps. And when it’s time for them to go home because we could not provide the basics in the time of a crisis, we want to keep them stranded, because we need their “labour”.

The hypocrisy has never been more blatant. The lies has never been more glaring. I’m a hundred percent sure now that the government is okay with all this collateral damage. The Centre has washed it’s hands off, the States are scrambling. Some states are luckier than others with able and relatively more honest and focused leadership who swung into action early. Others are clamouring and suffering. And it’s all sliding into a place of doom and no return, in slow motion. While we just watch, grateful for what we have.

What about dignity? What about respect? What about humanity? Washed away, with that stark white paint we love to smear all over anything even slightly difficult that begins to show up. Nothing must ruin that sparkling image we’re trying to create.

I drove out today beyond the two streets we have been restricted to for the past 50 days. Some of the little things I observed have left me gutted. We talk of “migrant labour” mostly imagining construction workers. Because that’s what we have a view into. But what about sanitation workers? Street side vendors? Homeless folks who get by from one day to the next doing odd jobs or simply begging? What about sex workers? What about domestic help? What about plumbers and wood polishers and carpenters and tailors? What about them?

I feel personally cheated and duped as a citizen, when I glance at the newspaper everyday. To have to honestly pay the taxes we do, feel constantly at loggerheads with age-old traditional governance, face sectarian politics, witness utterly bigoted communal violence, disagree with every form of development that is being sought, to do all of this in silence, and then have to also feel the fury and helplessness of more than 60% of this country at the time of a crisis like this, donate to the Prime Minister’s fraud fund, and wherever else possible, witnessing citizens eventually taking on the massive task of rescuing other citizens — it’s just too much beyond a point. I told S when I was sharing my shock and distress with him, that I’m so heartbroken and angry today.

And it was only when I said the words that I realised just what I have been feeling all day.

Heartbroken.

And with it this brokenness, every day, a part of the Indianness of my identity seems to be crumbling away. I find myself moving further and further away. I don’t relate to the majority, I don’t feel like anyone advocates for the interests or concerns of people like me, and when I see pockets of people do-gooders getting out and taking things in their own hands it only reinforces the aloneness. That we cannot depend on our systems. We have to take things on, alone.

I miss December. When I was at a protest every week. Because at least it gave me a sense of solidarity in others like me. And it gave me somewhere to channel my fury and hopelessness.

When will the government of India be good for ANYTHING?

One year ago: Engineering bigness
Two years ago: Another day, just breathe
Four years ago: Retrograde rant

Irrfan

Part of the reason I skipped posting on two days last week was just feeling overcome with emotion, my mind heavy and unable to unclog itself and be coherent. It’s not like I tried and couldn’t get it together. I honestly didn’t even attempt writing in here.

The news of Irrfan Khan passing hit me hard. It was a dull, rainy day in Bangalore — the kind that usually makes me feel very upbeat and good. But it didn’t last week. Waking up to rainy weather and the news that he was no more, just plain old punched me in the gut. The otherwise welcome gray day in the midst of summer just felt hazy that day. Like the lights turned off early.

Irrfan Khan’s work has of course entertained me. So many performances pockmark not just my movie-watching experience, but also phases of my life where I have obsessed over certain films and characters with people who geek out about it equally. I have laughed, been stunned, thrilled and cried over his movies alike. So many times over. But more than that I’ve been touched by his life and the stories he tells of where he has come from. His energy has been inspiring on more than one occasion. There is a relatable humanness in him that just made him so accessible and I’ve listened to and been moved by his views, his perspectives, his mind too.

I struggled to digest the fact that all of is is just…gone.

I don’t usually get like this. The last this a loss like this felt so personal was when Anthony Bourdain died. Like then, even now, I’m still having at least one moment a day where I suddenly stop and a tiny bubble in my head bursts with the reminder — He’s no more.

I had to remind myself: it’s okay to not feel okay. Bad news about death, difficulty, poverty, starvation during what is already an emotionally heavy time is bound to feel heavier than usual, and that it’s okay to let it. It’s okay to feel bad. Terrible, even.

It’s okay to not feel okay.

I went through three days of just too many emotions and I think it only really lifted on the evening of my birthday. Even now though, I’m still in a bit of disbelief. In the last few days I’ve watched Angrezi Medium which was a good one time watch. I caught Qissa that churned me up from the insides and haunted me for days after. And last night I re-watched Paan Singh Tomar and gotten hit in the face with the force that Irrfan is in the film. So understated, subtle, speaking through his eyes, and pulling off that character nearly flawlessly. Next up is Haider. The one other film I really want to watch is The Namesake, but I’ve searched high and low and it’s just nowhere. Which is just such a shame, because it’s right up there in the top three best Irrfan films of all time.

I can’t believe that’s now a finite truth — “of all time” in context to Irrfan’s life. Because it’s done, and we’ve seen the best and worst of all that he had to give. I still can’t believe there won’t be anymore.

One year ago: Flow
Two years ago: Stuck in the sunshine riptide
Four years ago: That urban poverty piece that’s got errrrybody’s panties in a bunch