Drive

Our car will be ten in the new year. And while she’s begun to look her age, thanks to nine years and nine monsoons in Goa, she still runs like a very young girl off to chase a dream at the slightest opportunity.

Many little niggling things have been acting up. The AC has been on its last legs for about a year now. The headlamps were horribly foggy until I scrubbed them with baking soda yesterday. The speakers have been in various stages of disconnection for a long while now but kat year the music system itself came unhinged and stopped working. All it’s good for is charging a phone. So this drive hasn’t been easy. The heat is a lot more intense than I expected, the air is dry as hell. There’s no music to be had so I’m using a portable speaker because I’m all alone (with two suitcases riding shotgun in the front seat) and I could do with some entertainment.

Also, this blasted curse of development just won’t let things be. Forget setting dysfunctional things right, they’re hell bent on fixing things that ain’t broke. So the perfectly decent highway between Goa and Bangalore that made for a comfortable 10 hour journey just one year ago has shot up to a painful 14 hours. The road is pretty flawless, silky smooth, but the endless diversions every few hundred metres has made it painful. Getting on and off the rough service roads, throwing up clouds of dust and dry air as we bump down terrible stretched of dangerous half-built roads, means one can’t even enjoy and maximize the good bits for what they’re worth.

As such, we as a country deserve nothing good. No amount of “development” will ever be good enough and worth it because you can’t get on a “world-class” highway long enough before a tractor lazily ambles across without warning, or a two wheeler shoots at you on the wrong side of the wrong side of the road just to avoid going the long route to make a U-turn. We’re the pits.

So it hasn’t been a fun drive. And yet, I’ve enjoyed driving. If that makes any sense at all. Because my car, my gosh, she is still so fine. And perhaps the only advantage of having a choc full car loaded up to the brim is that the weight in the tail of the car means I can take all the bumps easily. I accelerate and the car complies, no fear of people or things flying around in the back of the car. There’s grip and grounding.

Anyhow, leg one of this arduous journey is done.

***

Today and glad and super grateful for my parents who absolutely insisted (not that I needed any coaxing and convincing at all, but still) I learn to drive as soon as I turned 18. It has made making movement in my life so much more significant.

One year ago: What do you need to make your wild heart beat?
Three years ago: Holiday mornings

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I’ve had enough

It’s day for of incessant rain and I didn’t think I’d ever complain about it, but here we are. I’ve frikking had enough.

I haven’t seen the sun since we got in on Monday. We haven’t started on any of the errands we need to. In fact our departure hangs in mid air because VC plans to ride his bike back to Bangalore and we can’t even plan to leave until the rain subsides. I haven’t resumed running like I wanted to. I haven’t been able to take this opportunity to get back to my food plan in earnest, and my smoothie lunches. Because, power cuts. Many, many power cuts.

It seems like yet another intervention making my best laid plans go to waste. Literally washing away all my good intentions. But my grip on it is much looser than before so going with the flow has been easier. It’s a wonder, for example, that it’s taken four days before I got to the point of having had absolutely enough of this rain.

I have spent a major part of my time relaxing here. But the lack of sun light and fresh air (because the rain has been so unimaginably heavy all our windows are shut all the time) is finally, finally getting to me. I woke up this morning feeling borderline depressive. Gloomy, down in the dumps, imagining plates of the best food that absolutely nobody will bring to me, with just bread and eggs in the fridge.

This morning we have had no power since 8 am. And finally when it got too much to bear we left the house. Unshowered, just rolled out of bed, changed and left to find the nearest place that will give us beers.

And so here we are. Staying indoors was really beginning to mess with my mind.

I’m taking this as an intervention and trying to accept with grace how little control over my plans, I have. I’m happy to be outdoors. It’s green as fuck, and the temperatures are low, borderline cold, thankfully. I’m going to try and make the most of it while I can.

Incidentally, today is exactly one year since VC and I packed up one person’s worth of living stuff and drove across to Goa separately. Full circle, today. Gratitude for this journey and all that is has unwittingly brought to us.

One year ago: Getaway, you know it’s now or never
Two years ago: Postcards from Pondicherry
Three years ago: Book quandary

On ordinariness

S posts a spontaneously clicked picture of us on her Instagram yesterday and the strangest thing happened. A couple of people I used to know from Instagram days, people who stopped engaging with me for no apparent reason one fine day, reached out to her in response.

It’s nice to see Revati, they said.

*insert Revati’s confused face*

I’d dismiss it as pointless pleasantries. But it gets curiouser. S being polite S informs them that I’m doing good. And pat comes the reply, Good to know.

Eh?

Why? How? What good could it possibly be for people who didn’t want to know how I was when we could have been in touch, to know I’m good? This, from someone who blatantly ghosted me when I reached out to them upon moving to Bangalore. All because I pulled a story they sat on for months without explanation, to run it with another more willing publication.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. It tends to happen when VC puts up the occasional picture of me too. Random people — who either ghosted me like above,  or people who were never too warm to begin with, or people I was useful for back in the day — I am absolutely no longer in touch with extend extra warm, over familiar pleasantries.

I’ve always brushed it off as what people like to do online. Show each other just how much they know each other. It’s the oddest thing and I do think it’s peaked.

Does it have to do with social media visibility alone, I wonder? I mean I’m not even around there, so there can’t be too much currency in knowing me anymore. But I can’t be sure. More disconcerting though, is the extreme curiosity about why I got offline. And the conviction that it must have been compelled by something terrible. A life crisis, some colossal fuck up, something to hide from the world since everything is online and documented now.

***

So yesterday I wondered if the pleasantries and the Good to know I’m doing alright is probably a response to the default understanding that something terrible must have happened for me to get offline.

I don’t know when we get to this point where getting offline has come to signal something catastrophic.

This is just a single example of S posting a picture online. I cannot count the number of times I have either bumped into someone I used to know online, or I’ve heard from someone tangentially inquiring if everything is alright with me since I am no longer on social media.

All this conjecture might have made some tiny bit of sense if I were someone of importance or consequence. I’m not, because most people didn’t realised when I disappeared off social media until much long after. And why should anyone care, I always wondered. There was no explicit, single, large reason that compelled my departure. It was many things I really couldn’t explain. I also always assume I am completely inconsequential and ordinary being just like a million other people out there, so nobody would really notice, or wonder.

But, clearly I am mistaken?

Yesterday I got to thinking what must they think could have happened in the time I’ve been away? And then I realised this curiosity has absolutely nothing to do with what I think is my ordinary existence, or any of my measures of ordinariness. It’s the sheer idea that I am offline that’s extraordinary.

Which is meta level amusing and interesting for me, because offline, it has become my sole purpose and business to try and be ordinary. To just be good enough, even if I fail most of the time. To be alright on my own. TO do nothing exemplary. And whatever it is I choose to do or not do, to be okay bumbling on on my own, without showing it off or needing a universe of voyeurs to tell me how good I am. That I’m quite alright. Or great even. To the point where everything basic, every little mundane accomplishment warps and begins to seem unnecessarily larger than life and extraordinary.

Yesterday, thinking about the irony of how social media was the basis of so many of the connections I held and kept some years ago, I felt a pang of sadness about this person who clearly doesn’t want to have anything to do with me in real life, but felt the need to feign familiarity with me anyway. It’s a level of fake I have worked hard to slowly peel away from my life.

As usual, and once again, I received affirmation that something I did two years ago was only laying the path for where I am at now, and important work I am only getting to the crux of now. I didn’t know it then, but getting off social media two years ago was only laying the foundation for learning to be imperfect and all kinds of ordinary. Of allowing myself to be alright, even on my own. And two years on, I feel like I am only just getting started.

***

Writing this from my hotel room in Chandigarh where we arrived early this evening. We’re driving out to the hills early tomorrow morning, so I should finish posting this and turn in.

I am grateful for travel, for the expansive length and breadth of this country that is anything but ordinary, and that I have barely scratched the surface of. And for the ability to take off, pick up and go, largely unencumbered.

Two years ago: A good life is a life of goodness
Three years ago: A picture

No rain, no rainbow

It’s hard some days, to get in here and casually, almost without an extra moment’s thought, type out a few hundred words about the latest discovery in my inward-focused, self-serving rambly-rambling journey.

It’s hard because I’ve just read the news, and the world doesn’t feel so sunshiney, positive and full of hope, like it did in my head just yesterday. Deep inside, I’m devastated by the accounts of what’s going on in Kashmir. Outwardly, I can’t seem to talk about it to anyone around me, save a couple of friends who know and feel the same way.

Every time I read a piece of news about Kashmir, I feel waves of guilt for how good I have it, how untouched my life is by the literal strife they’re going through. How good we have it, down south. How good do I have it simply because of the privilege I am born into — Hindu, “upper caste”, economically well off, looked after, safe, secure. None of these descriptors will ever let me know what it is to be a minority, and how easy it is for me to then be further and further cut away from the experiences and truths that minorities are living through everyday.

It’s hard to go on and just be happy, like everything is peachy, as it truly is in my world. I can’t seem to juxtapose the two and it is a struggle I sit with at least a few times a week.

It’s hard to go on and be normal, when I think about how massive floods and an acute shortage of water are somehow happening at the very same time, in places so, so, so close to home. It’s hard when I think of my MIL who is kicking cancer’s ass like a pro every single day. It’s hard when I see S struggle to give her children the life she wants and that they so deserve.

It’s hard because there are blips in my own journey. Every now and then, what felt like an upward movement suddenly comes to a grinding halt, where everything feels meaningless and almost futile.

It’s hard because, for every layer I peel back, I find myself right back at the “what-is-the-point-of-any-of-this” pitstop, that I am now thinking is a mandatory stop-and-go milestone that I will get to over and over again.

It’s especially hard when somehow the two — my personal monologue and the world that spins on — sometimes collide. When I think about the future, my future, and instead of brimming with hope and optimism, it is filled with a kind of dread. I wonder what use is it working on myself, on creating a healthy, agile, emotionally-stable future self, when the world around seems goddamned insistent on going out of control and self-destructing. I wonder what world we’re creating and leaving behind for future generations — a world that’s being destroyed by fascists, greedy capitalists and self-serving, manipulative politics across the globe.

What use is any of this then?

As I have watched my own politics (of everything!) slowly morph and find a new mould that fits for where I am right now, I find myself at this juncture more often.

But every now and then, the sun comes out again. Like it did today, after several rainy (but beautiful, nonetheless), grey days. And I realise this is the way of the world. Hard as it may be, all of it has a place — the struggles, the injustices, the deep failures, as much as the wins, the victories and the justice.

One year ago: It’s been a hard days night
Three years ago: What my Sunday morning was like

Unhappy Independence Day

I woke up and realised it’s Independence Day because the gym was empty and I had an easy-breezy drive to the airport. I wondered why, and realised, long weekend, Independence Day, etc. And then I was inexplicably sad.

It’s day 11 of an entire state under lockdown, with all lines of communication cut off. Several of their elected politicians are still detained. It’s what the global media is now calling a form of colonisation. Closer home, we don’t have it in us to call it what it is — undemocratic. Few official updates to explain what is going on. Plenty of hysteria making it all look “normal” and “under control” on TV. But read the real news and it’s horrific.

All this, while we’re staring one of the biggest economic slowdowns of our time, straight in the face, with no signs of recovery.

All this while the prime minister who never makes himself available to the press, solidly avoiding answering solid questions about real issues, appears on a PR driven episode of Man vs Wild, as some wildly twisted way to show he is a champion of environmental causes.

Maybe if he actually did better we wouldn’t be the fourth worst country of 180 countries on the Environmental Performance Index. Maybe he could show us he cares by stopping the unlawful, brazen sanctioning of licenses to clear forests and ecologically sensitive areas for questionable infrastructural projects, and not exempting powerful industrialists and godmen from getting necessary licenses before putting up their next coal mines or industries or whatever else.

Maybe speak up against the gross spread of violence and hate being spewed by emboldened communally-charged elements? Maybe support the powers that be in giving justice to victims and survivors of this violence? Maybe stop the constant stream of aquittal of murderers responsible for some of the worst hate crimes. Maybe do something and lend his goddamned voice across any of the multiple channels of communication he has, to actually speak about the horrific atrocities being committed by self-styled cow-vigilantes in the name of religion and patriotism?

Maybe do something to show that the fast dismantling of minority rights that’s underway is not what we stand for as a country? Maybe show us that we needn’t be afraid. Because I am. The more I read the news, the more afraid I am. The sadder I get. The more hopeless and silenced I feel.

I’m not sure this is the country our ancestors fought tooth and nail, long and hard for, in the name of freedom and independence.

One year ago: New way, new life
Three years ago: Sunday

Mush

It’s been an insanely stormy day, that’s been pretty and fascinating to watch from the inside, but downright chaotic on the outside.

Much like my brain this week.

Still struggling with coherence. The words are stuck. My limbs feel frozen. Everything feels a bit pointless.

None of this bodes well right now, because I have an assignment submission to make tomorrow.

I’ll just have to keep at it and keep trying.

One year ago: Slowly drifting, wave after wave
Two years ago: What coming home feels like: Sunday lunch edition

Three years ago: Like Nike, but better

Grey

It’s been a terrible day, right from the get go. It started off with minor niggles but with every progressive niggle (and they were flying thick and fast) it began to feel like the world was conspiring to make me have this shitty day in every way possible. It started with an all-morning power cut that threatened to ruin my agenda for the day, and ended with a full on battle with a lizard the size of a mini dinosaur, and resulted in my having a full blown melt down at sundown.

Physical niggles aside, there’s been a lot of heaviness in our lives this past week. I realised I hadn’t given myself enough time to process everything that happened and came up in class — a lot of which has been heavy and overwhelming for me — and went straight into flying to Goa, landed in the midst of news a medical emergency in our family. We have been riding that wave all week, waiting on endless hospital tests and doctors opinions before we figure out which way to proceed. All this has meant that as a family too, we haven’t had the luxury to really come together or even process the fear and grief that has surfaced in the face of a life threatening disease.

I’ve had a vague sense of being disoriented all week but I just put that down to my inability to run on autopilot like I was in the week before I landed in Goa, and thought I just needed time to switch down from that tempo. However I realised today, when it all bubbled over, over a full-on war with a harmless (albeit menacingly large) lizard, that there was something else at play. I have held all of my emotions in this past week, in an attempt to just get on and get by, not fully in touch with what I am feeling and how it is showing up in my body. It only showed up and became clear like looking through a freshly minted sheet of glass, in therapy today when everything — all the varied, disparate, disconnected open ends of my life at the moment — spiller over in full force.

I haven’t had a day this heavy in, possibly, years. In fact my last real memory of a day like this is from 2016 — a year when I had several of them. Since then, even with the small ups and downs, I have felt a steady forward, upward movement and real changes in being able to manage the heavier days without breaking down completely or being thrown totally off kilter.

Of course the real goal of any inner work is not to eliminate such days entirely, but to get to a place where they are managed in a more mindful way, by being present rather than absent to the difficulties that are coming up.

Last week, I felt largely absent. I have not been in my body and certainly not been present to the full impact of the real emotions I have been having. This has disoriented and fazed me a fair bit, also something I wasn’t aware of. And so today has been a reminder of how much more work there is to be done. And how important it is for me to look after myself, in order to be present and fully available, for myself as well as for others who look to me for support. Especially in times like this.

One year ago: Did you fall from a shooting star?
Three years ago: On solitude

These days

I’ve only been back in Bangalore a week, but the settledness that comes with returning home makes it feel like it’s been a while. Longer. Only thoughts of my plants give me a pang for the wonderful summer I had this year, not so long ago. But for the most part, life here has resumed in full swing. The weather has turned here with thunderstorm-y nights and grey, overcast days. Summer feels long gone.

There is the new development of not having work at all, something that otherwise grounds my days, giving me tangible milestones to work towards. I’m also mostly still eating all meals at amma’s, because ammama is visiting, so my kitchen hasn’t found a burst of activity as it usually does when I return. The only thing I’m doing (and by doing I mean expending physical energy) with utmost dedication an enthusiasm, is hitting the gym every single day. As much as this is a luxury that I love and appreciate, it has meant my days are rather floaty, like an extended holiday of sorts. Except I have to keep reminding myself that it isn’t a holiday, this is now life itself. A phase of life without work, a life with abundant help and generosity from my mother. It is here for the taking — with freewheeling days to do as I please — and I must step up and take it for what it is, without diminishing its (or my) value with my sometimes problematic notions of what is “okay” to receive, and what is an unnecessary indulgence.

This seriously still disorients me — the floaty days, and the internal tussle I go through before I can enjoy them — but the uncanny and deliberate way in which events aligned to land me in this place this time around feels like a fresh call to just stay with it for a change. Do not rush to fill it with busyness, Re.

Even though I am getting better at it, it still takes a lot of effort to put myself in the headspace to go with it and enjoy it, to believe I am not “slacking off” for not being “productive”, to quit equating my usefulness to professional work alone. There is a sense of urgency I feel in getting to work, that I haven’t had in a while. The comfort of a steady gig, a steady income had kept that at bay, I suppose. The emptiness left by it now has brought old demons I’d somewhat put to rest, back up again. I’ve done my share of overthinking it silently in my head. And I keep coming back to asking myself this — what is your rush? What are you in looking to fill, ignore, move your eyes away from? Are you looking for work to numb the discomfiting silence that comes from extreme stillness? What is so scary about emptiness that you are trying avert it so urgently?

While I figure this out, I’m casting the net out again. Feebly. I’ve been out of the game for so long that I feel inept and a bit at sea about where to begin. So I must remember to take it slow, telling myself as many times as it takes to remember, I didn’t get to this stage of funemployment overnight, that sheer providence has sent a steady flow of work my way even in phases when I wasn’t really looking for it, that I am probably not going to go back to a state of steady work overnight. This is the natural order of things now. That it is okay. That there are gifts in here, even in the sometimes uncomfortably empty days, in the laziness that forces itself on me, in the wealth of time that is opening up for me. Is work really the only thing I want to fill it with?

At this point, I don’t know.

One year ago: Life has a funny way of helping you out
Three years ago: Period story and writing lessons

Loud

Today, I had what I thought was a perfectly normal, if slightly loud, conversation that one has with a client. It started off as a clarification of miscommunication from both sides, but very quickly turned into a shouting match that took an unnecessarily emotional turn. I used to be someone who would get very worked up by confrontation of this sort, but I now much prefer having things out in the interest of a better outcome (even if that outcome is that I lose a client). But today, somewhere in the midst of decibel levels rising and emotions flaring, I realised that what was playing out was a story, a script. Something I have been a part of before — conversations with clients/colleagues where there is an unmistakeable undertone of a power equation threatening to be toppled simple because one party decided to come clean and ask the tough questions.

I used to be afraid of this kind of confrontation, no matter which side of the argument I have been in. I am not a fan of ruffling feathers (and losing a good thing) nor have I been a fan of being at the receiving end of a confrontation. But today, I initiated it. I didn’t even realise how naturally this had come to me today, even as I was doing it. And suddenly, in that moment when I realised what was actually at play, I had the blinding clarity that I refuse to play a part in this repetitive script in my life again.

It was suddenly no longer about missed deadlines, miscommunication, ironing out wrinkles so we can work it out going forward. It was about reclaiming my power from a person who was hell bent on irrationally taking it away. I have never been surer of how right I am in an engagement with a client. And today, I really had it out.

The conversation was difficult. It touched a very raw nerve, gave me a headache and tested me emotionally so much, I burst into tears when I hung up, even as I was so relived to have ended that contract. Now that I think of it, I think they were also tears of relief. But when the call was done, my temples were pounding, I needed a tall drink of water and immediately took myself to my air conditioned bedroom to cool off.

There’s suddenly so much happening with me, in this area of power, space and boundaries. It comes in waves with such intensity and is revealing itself in little and big situations, inspiring a host of different actions and reactions on an everyday basis. It is making me do things every single day that surprise me, push me, elate me, exhaust me.

This situation, this conversation and this outcome (ending a contract on a telephone call) would be so very unlike me. Except it doesn’t feel unlike me anymore. The more these situations present themselves, the more I am pushed to see this side of me that also exists, that has been lying locked up, that needs to be seen, the more I am forced to see what I really am. I’m a mix of it all. I am as aggressive and can fight loud and aggressively for what’s right, as much as I can be compassionate and let you have your way on a day when I feel kinder.

Today I may have shaken myself up a bit. This probably the first time I really stood up to a client who was being a bully. It’s the first time I really made myself heard, without relenting in the moment and saving up all my pent up aggression for a politely worded email sent much later when enough deep breaths were taken.

This new side, I find aggressive, loud, shrill, even hostile sometimes. But, I realise how much of this is conditioning. Conditioning that makes me believe these qualities must be hushed up. That I must be coy and cooperative as far as possible. That I must sometimes relent in the interest of work, and money. But I am so much more than that.

I am sometimes angry. Fierce. Unreasonable. I am all of this too.

When did anger get such a bad rap? Why is it looked down upon so much? I see now that anger and rage, when expressed, are clues to dig deeper. And invariably, when I do, I am compelled to change something towards a better outcome. Anger maybe a trigger emotion, but it’s certainly a catalyst for change. So when and why have we become so comfortable with pushing it away?

I feel loud and large today. It is like stepping into a side of me that has been a long time coming. But on the flip side, I feel emotionally very vulnerable and fragile. And yet, kind of empowered. I feel new.

One year ago: All the small things
Three years ago: Essay aftermath

Blank

I’ve had a strange day with high highs and lows lows and wild swinging between the two. I’ve had to streamline all the things I had planned for two weeks to now be done in two days before I jet off unexpectedly. Top on my list was getting a haircut and my phone fixed. And somehow I’m in less of a tizzy now that those “crucial” things are done.

Right now though, my mind’s just blank.

Three years ago: Fullness

Not my country

It’s been a while since I have aired a political view on this blog. I think the last time I did was on the grim day in 2014 when the dark forces that be, came to power. But yesterday, I felt broken. I spent a large part of the day keeping up with the updates following the airstrikes that began day before yesterday, and I just can’t fight the feeling of overwhelming disappointment and disgust at just how despicably low the greed for power can make this government stoop. I had been simmering all day, but watching the video of Wing Commander Abhinandan in captivity, making a statement with stoic and brave composure, just completely broke me.

It’s been a veritable shit-fest from the word go. And my disgust began yesterday with news of raucous celebrations across the country at our brave show of retaliation. Since then there has been a deafening silence from the government. This is a time to be available, accountable and respond with alacrity. But the silence and the absolute lack of urgency in making available the right responses available is appalling. Delayed updates, delayed confirmation, lack of clarity and no urgency to respond to the news of the captured pilot or where we will go from here. With this heavy air of being at the brink of war looms large, all I’ve felt again and again is crushing defeat.

I’m not even the slightest fan of the current government in power. But if there was even a glimmer of optimism in me, a silent, small possibility to “give them a chance, change takes time” like people keep asking of me, it has all but vanished today.

It’s 2019 for fucks sake. All this progress, development, evolution has got to count for something. As if the religious fundamental rhetoric and the Hindutva hard-lining weren’t enough, theres is now this new catastrophe in the making, guaranteed to drag us down. I didn’t think I’d live to witness a time where my country, the largest democracy in the world, a super power in the making, would be at the brink of war. A war we cannot afford, a war we have no business bringing on ourselves. I’m just so angry at the thought.

I don’t own a TV, but the clips of the blatant war-mongering going on on prime time news in the wake of the 14 Feb attacks has churned my stomach every time that I have encountered one. They’ve been shrill, hyping the government, fighting the cause of revenge, using the heavy word so brazenly. No amount of muting the card carrying right wingers in my phonebook and on whatsapp seems to help, they’re crawling out of the woodworks with their boxes of laddoos and what not, to celebrate would you believe? The unbridled hate I’ve seen online, on my whatsapp stories and in the news has been heartbreaking. And for what? It’s not like we’ve fought the war and emerged victorious. Premature celebrations, much?

I hope some day they’ll come out of their saffron coloured castles in the air and see the truth. This is bad timing. This shouldn’t have happened. It simply shouldn’t have.

One wonders about the timing of it all, the urgency to retaliate and to seek revenge. One wonders about the classified nature of such surgical strikes and how quickly publicised these were. One wonders about when we turned aggressive, rather than defensive, and which is the more powerful position to take. One wonders about the inflating 56″ chest and that mad glint in those eyes. One wonders about the futility of it all, just for another inevitable election win, but the impetus to win it while soaring even higher on the frenzied sentiments of a nation baying for blood.

I’m just so helpless and enraged by my helplessness.

I had a moment of severe dissonance while I was at the supermarket today, buying vegetables and chicken, while imagining forces getting ready for combat. How can the two realities coexist?

War shouldn’t be this easy.

A war at a time like this? What of the farmers whose hunger remains to be addressed even after the budget? What about our cities that are crying for thought and attention, where little really reaches? What about the the 87% slash in teacher training that’s bound to impact education in India? What about the exodus of workers marching to Delhi to protest the plan to weaken labour laws?

Meanwhile the prime minister in the last 24 hours has experienced the Delhi metro, launched a Bhagwad Gita app along with some fitness or something or the other app and is busy promoting and prepping for his Guinness world record breaking largest video conference ever to be held soon. And this, when we’ve had absolutely no confirmed legit updates, except for three very disturbing videos of the captured wing commander. Again and again his brazen display of blind power and greed with no fucks to give cuts too close to the bone.

How do more people not see this? How do they not feel this?

I’M JUST SO MAD.

Surely we have bigger priorities to throw our money at. And no, I don’t mean another statue. I know this isn’t the most nuanced opinion, but right now I’m just mad, so filled with rage and bitterness that one mans greed for another electoral win, to emerge the hero, to make a damn point, can drag an entire nation to these lows.

As I have been wondering about karmic cycles, at a personal and a national level (yes I’ve wondered about the karma of my nation), and in my own life I see the benefit in healing the present as the only means to break cycles of hurt, I wonder about retaliation and what good it holds. I wonder about the futility of war. I wonder what hope this leaves for tomorrow.

Today, all I feel is hopeless.

This is not the country I want to call mine.

One year ago: Pretend like there’s no world outside

Waking thoughts

At yoga this morning, my teacher said something really simple, but that rang true with the resounding sound of ten bells in my head.

To bring awareness to a part of your body, is to breathe into it. To bring prana into it. To bring life itself to it.

And suddenly I realised, that’s exactly what the journey of awareness has been for me. Like in yoga, bringing awareness has brought life to my life. Without it would be to merely exist.

***

I’ve caught myself saying “I feel so used!” to myself so, so, so many times these past few weeks. So far it’s mostly been in response to things friends have said or done, which has had me sit up and look at the equation between us. But it peaked when my neighbour, who I barely know, just asked me if she could use my home to serve lunch to a bunch of wedding guests they cannot accommodate in their home. It’s been a testing time for my boundaries and the idea of my personal space and how I allow it to be encroached has been coming up a lot, lately. If this is not a sign to wake up and address it, I don’t know what is.

Three years ago: Orange is the new black

Day 331: I need to free my mind and see what I’m feeling

Throwing it back to this day last week by the beach, when my mind was empty and the sunset sea-breeze buoyed me up.

Because, I’m feeling a little fried today. And I am only connecting the dots going backwards right now

The HDFC net banking site drove me up the wall today. And it happened to be a day where I had to do two airline bookings, place a Big Basket order and check up on two payments waiting to be reversed. None of this happened easily. Even now, only the air bookings have been successful, but not without strife.

But it all started last night. I went to bed later than usual, tossed and turned before I drifted off well past midnight. I didn’t sleep too well and it resulted in me oversleeping this morning, which sets my entire day off.

I didn’t know it then but I do now. I’ve been preoccupied with thoughts and feelings about a current situation VC and I are in. It’s mundane and boringly usual where his family comes from, but it has bent my mind in so many ways these past ten days, that I m unable to wrap my head around it.

I’m trying to just let the feelings come up to the surface and flow, and sometimes it works, and helps. There has been some fear of judgement, fear of being stuck and stifled, and a difficulty in accepting the uncertainty of which way this can go. I also find myself torn between jumping in, to rescue mode and having VC’s back, even though my heart knows this is my chance to back off completely because this isn’t entirely my circus or my monkeys right now, and in fact an opportunity for VC to set his emotional boundaries right with his family. And who knows, even invite a little new goodness into our lives.

In all of this I am also afraid that my anxiety about this (that I cannot help at this point) may jinx it.

I wanted to go catch Bohemian Rhapsody tonight, but its less than 30 minutes to show time and I still trying to get through the failed net banking shit of the day. 

I’m ready to go to bed tonight, thinking of the sea and the coming and going of the waves, in the hope that tomorrow will be lighter and flowy-er.

Day 317: But if you try sometimes you might find you get what you need

Today I had thoughts on going with the flow, the weird thing that social media does where the simplest everyday things are treated like massive achievements, how acceptance and surrender are probably two sides of the same coin, and how the I manage to be weighed down by the sheer lightness and transience of friendship. But I’m cheating with a picture again today. My brain has just been all over the place these last few days and I’m not up to really articulating much.

One year ago: What coming home feels like: The sweet, sweet taste of acceptance

Day 295: They say you were always enough

I’m exhausted. After days of fighting that itchy throat, my body gave in today. It felt like there were rocks embedded in there every time I swallowed. And so for the first time this year, I have caved and decided to have antibiotics. I know what has brought this on — exhaustion. This is my body saying, enough, get some rest. It was also probably tipped over the edge by the three chilled beers I had at lunch yesterday. Oh well.

It’s been non-stop this entire month, and I felt my energy really flagging on the weekend. Unfortunately I can’t fully stop just yet. We’re int he midst of packing before we set off to Goa in a few days. Once there too, a whole lot of things need to be done to get our home where VC will stay, up and going in time before I return.

So today, I took comfort in a big fat pill, an afternoon nap, a cancelled evening appointment and some forced downtime, before I made a batch of Asian summer rolls and headed over to my aunts for dinner. There’s quite nothing like a hot meal someone cooks for you, to hit the spot on an ill day like today, when my body has wanted to just stay curled up and asleep. We had fried fish, a hearty chicken curry, and topped it with a small Jagermeister shot that fixed my throat good and proper.

Tomorrow will be a better day, I know. And that R in the image, it stands for REST.

One year ago: When one door shuts, open it again
Two years ago: Day 295: In with the new