Story time

Ved and Chaya | Entry 1

Growing up, Ved loved his collection of sophisticated toy cars and luxury gadgets. In the era of people making do with 1GB data a month, Ved enjoyed unlimited internet access. His life has always been perfect, thanks to his amazing dad who was no less than God to him. Seldom does one find father-son duos that are this cordial, but Ved was a special child with the most loving parents. Not only was Ved charming and charismatic since childhood, he was also well-behaved, good in academics, and just everything else that society deems ‘ideal’ in a child. For being a good boy, Ved's father would reward him well, and that would be their thing.

But despite having everything, an inexplicable pain would engulf Ved every time he would try to sleep. This anxiety slowly seeped into his life in his late teens. He secretly went for counselling too, but nothing seemed to be working. He never discussed his insomnia or sleep anxiety with his parents; he didn't want to trouble to the old couple. Having been childless for a long time and then being gifted with this gem of a boy, Ved's parents were extremely protective of him, yet never in a suffocating way. He was the first among his friends to learn to drive, and swim. He even went for a solo trip to Melbourne at eighteen, that's the kind of liberation his father made accessible for him. For a single child from an upper-middle-class family in a metropolitan city, Ved was tied to his roots, forever in awe of nature, and just the opposite of all the stereotypes attached to people with his background. His seemingly perfect life however was not without its share of darkness. Ved had his heart broken by his childhood sweetheart at 15, and since then he's been having these nightmares that make sleep inaccessible to him on most nights.

Chaya lives in a small town, in a joint family. She comes from a lower-middle-class family that isn't necessarily poor but isn't rich either. It's best to describe them as people who spend on the right things and curtail expenses wherever possible. Chaya is at least eight years younger to Ved and had no idea of his existence until this beautiful morning when she randomly sat next to him on her school excursion to Delhi. A bright-eyed girl with a bubbly personality, Chaya wasn't someone you'd call beautiful. She was cute at best, she could easily go unnoticed in a crowd of many, yet that particular morning, Ved noticed her. They were on this city tour bus that was headed to India Gate. Chaya with her school mates and teachers, and Ved with a few colleagues from a magazine he had just started interning with. At 13 and 21 respectively, Chaya and Ved had no clue that randomly sitting next to each other on a crowded bus for just 30 minutes would help them foster a connection they'll cherish and secretly long for much later in life. 

Image source: AI

They began talking when Ved asked if she was with the group of chaotically loud kids singing at the top of their voices in the front. Chaya smiled and nodded. She loved how he seemed to prefer her choice of being calm and enjoying the city view rather than dancing the moments away to a Bollywood number. She had just begun embracing her womanhood and only she knew how fast her heart began to beat when Ved walked in through the aisles of the crowded bus. In fact, there were two other people from Ved's team who came to sit beside her, but she tried to show how unwelcome the idea was via gestures and the classic use of her bag as a space eater. And when it was Ved looking sincerely for a seat, the bag swiftly made its way to her lap and the rest is obvious.

With their hands brushing against each other and thighs occasionally touching at the abrupt halts of the bus, Ved and Chaya felt a soothing comfort that each lacked in their otherwise fulfilling lives. Anyway, post Ved's wittily framed question, it was the inquisitive Chaya's turn to interrogate him and she asked straight up, 'Are you with these magazine people, you know these journalist types?' To this Ved smiled, both admiring her naive nature and directness. She almost resembled her...the girl who brutally broke his heart...

On Loyalty Nests

    In between feeling things and doing things, sometimes I don't find the time to write things, document things, observe things, or embrace things for what they are. In this fleeting life, moments, connections we build, emotions we feel, and the love we experience are also of a fleeting nature. No matter how hard one tries, one cannot ever fully capture a special memory for eternity. Moments have their way of fading away, but what one feels in a moment is authentic. It's pure love and unadulterated affection for someone's act of kindness, admiration of someone's wise words, or simply amazement at someone's existence in your life. I don't know whether it's fortunate or unfortunate, but I have the memory of a goldfish. I have at least 12–15 people I can call members of my inner circle right now and these aren't related to me by blood. I am aware that this number is bound to reduce over time, but right now, despite all our individual differences, I believe 12–15 is the number. And with all these people, I've shared a good chunk of my evolution. While my school gang saw me make peace with my financial situation and aspirations (and also begin a relationship that is now an integral part of my being), my graduation gang saw me stifle through penury and the struggles of this said relationship. While my MA gang transformed me and changed all the toxic traits in me that my BA gang had to tolerate, my DTE gang was conveniently there when each of us wanted to socialize, or perhaps needed a shoulder to cry on. These relationships have blossomed in different capacities and some people have made a significant mark on my life despite being remembered as a group or perhaps, being remembered as individuals. For instance, the only person I confide in now during my PhD, or perhaps another friend from my childhood who was a part of my early childhood trio. So many faces and memories flash before my mind as I type this, it is almost as if someone has played the auto-curated Apple movie of images in my memory album.

Source: HelgaKa

    Anyhow, the point here is my constant struggle to identify as someone with fixed interests, hangout groups, or 'loyalty nests' if we could call it that. I was recently accused of not being 'there' by a close friend from one of the groups I've briefly talked about. I had a friendship breakup for a night and couldn't sleep that night wondering what was my fault and how I could rectify it. Thankfully, the group found its way back to being alive, but a part of me shall always remain hesitant to ever be truly myself again there, despite that space being a holy sanctity of evolution and self-love for me. The fragility of human relationships doesn't get portrayed any better than these lines by Kabir:

रहिमन धागा प्रेम का, मत तोड़ो चटकाय।

टूटे से फिर ना जुड़े, जुड़े गांठ परि जाय।।

    Our twenties see us give shape to our dreams, find our passions, and our professions for the next 3 active decades of our lives, find and marry our partners, and adjust to new cities, new homes, and new families. There's also the pain of losing parents, the joy and responsibility of becoming parents (both of these being circumstantial, and possibly an affair of the thirties/forties for many), setting and achieving financial goals, health goals, and a whole lot of other things that happen in the background as we navigate the terribly confusing and beautifully challenging times that our twenties are. In the process, how does one find the time to be 'there' especially if their inner circle comprises, let's say 12-15 people? Where does one find the time, energy, resources, and freedom to catch up with all the 12-15 struggle stories? This post is not my excuse for being a bad friend, it's more of my attempt to identify what can I possibly do to do it all right. The answer I realise, is nothing.

    I cannot really do much to stay 'loyal' to the 'loyalty nests.' And that's the whole story of life. This feels like the beginning of the process of going from 100 friends to 50 friends and 50 acquaintances, to finally coming down to 2 friends or 0 friends. That's how my dad, a septuagenarian finds himself spending all of his day at the house now, whereas, until a decade back, he had at least 1-2 friends he could occasionally go and hang out with. People drift apart, things happen, sometimes intentionally, at other times unintentionally, people get hurt, people become too proud to forgive, and relationships suffer. Man, the once social, people-pleasing being with many friends, now becomes a comrade of his/her own emptiness and void. Loyalty nests get converted to lonely nests and before we know it, a lifetime has passed.

On Losing a Parent

I’ve read a lot of novels growing up and I hardly remember any of the stories now. My life’s own stories have gradually blurred out the ones that made my life vibrant as a teenager. But I do remember special lines from specific books…lines that were too strong to not be felt, remembered and recollected. One such line is this one from Fault in Our Stars by John Green: That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt. I can Google and give you the context of the line in the novel or maybe you can go do it for yourself, but think about it. Pain, grief, heartbreak…everything soul-shattering ought to be truly felt for you to even imagine moving past them.

I write this post with a lot of sorrow and a heavy heart. The word “friendship” has taken so many meanings for me over the years and through all of them, all the betrayals, hugs, happy moments and sad ones, there’s one person that has been a constant. She’s this particular friend I’ve had for over two decades of my life.

Today, she lost her dad. And I don’t know what to feel or what to say to make her feel better. Growing up, I’ve had an older dad and I realised quite early on in life that my dad is not as young, energetic, patient or ‘fun’ as the dads of my friends. He had done his share of ‘Dad duties’ already for both my elder siblings and by the time it was time for him to do all the same things for a third time, he was done. I could sense the impatience and irritation he would feel every time there was a birthday party I wanted to go to, or every time he had to go pick me from an extra class or tuitions. It was kind of him to never complain and do the deed despite the annoyance, boredom and repetitive nature but the self and socially aware side of me could sense his discontent, and that’s why I shaped myself to become a self-sufficient, self-reliant person, so much so that I can be framed for murder and need desperate help to prove my innocence but would still think twice before dialling my Dad’s number. And this comes from a place of concern for him because I don’t want to unnecessarily bother him or my mom, who’re both now in their second innings. But that’s my story. Not every child grows up feeling this disconnect from their parents.

This particular friend of mine had quite the opposite rapport with her dad. He was young, charming, kind, loving, always up for fun, and just the coolest dad around me. It wasn’t just her who enjoyed his lively presence, me and another friend of ours would always deeply admire how he was always just the right dad. The perfect dad.

He had an accident with the stairs at home yesterday and finally gave up on life this morning. I had no idea how to console my friend. I don’t think I did a very good job at being there for her either, because she’s there alone now, with her mom, trying to figure out life in this father-less world, making his death certificate, bringing him home, getting stuff ready for the last rites, while I sit here in my university hostel and simply write and wonder about how she’s doing it all. I’ve never felt more helpless in friendship. 

The biggest demerit of adulthood is seeing your parents enter their second childhood and finally to lose them to death. Here we are, just in our mid-twenties and she’s already dealing with this great loss. She deserved at least a few more years with her father, she’s too young to take on the responsibilities of the house. Being the eldest child, my friend would now have to be in-charge and accountable for everyone left behind. I cannot even imagine the feeling she now has of not having even the luxury of time to grieve her dad’s loss. 

And then to think of how fragile and unpredictable life is. I’ve always lived with the big gloomy cloud of “what if my dad is no more?” looming over me and just like that 25 years of my life have passed. With God’s grace my Dad hasn’t dealt with anything major so far and I’m breathing fine everyday, but to imagine that this friend who knew her dad was young enough to live atleast another decade lost his life randomly like that is heart-breaking. Is it even okay for us to expect anything from life if there’s no guarantee of life itself? 

She’s a strong girl and has dealt with multiple crisis situations like this in the past but I know this is the biggest of them all because she’s broken now. The sound of her breaking down on the phone this morning is still echoing in my ears. And the fact that I can’t do anything to make her feel better. Does it mean I’m an unworthy friend if I can’t even book a flight and go be with her in these times of crisis? I don’t know. There’s way too much to figure out if I indeed go and sit on that homebound flight. Adulting is hard, to say the least. And life? It’s plain cruel at this point.

But then again, pain demands to be felt. I cannot make her pain go away without her taking its burden for some time. I can only send her my prayers. And all my prayers are with her and her family today. May God give them the strength to overcome this huge loss! May God keep them sane and hopeful, despite it all. And as for Uncle, he has been the most loving person I know and I hope he finds peace in heaven, knowing that his family will be well-provided for in his absence. Amen 🙏🏻

Power of Manifestation

Location: EFL-U Campus, Hyderabad

    I had a very productive morning; it's only 8.58 am as I write this, and I feel proud of myself for sticking to the commitment I made to myself of working out at least 3–4 days a week. Today's a Wednesday, and since my Monday and Tuesday were hectic, I began my workout week today, so it's day 1. I need to stick through this regime for another 3–4 days, meaning the rest of the week to be able to pat my back for being a good girl who respects her goals and loves herself enough to care for her body when it needs the care. Anyhow, in case you're wondering how the title of this post and the first line of this blog are related, then here's a story:

    Until two months ago, I was living an unsatisfactory life—socially, emotionally, intellectually, academically, financially, and in every other -ially way possible. During those dark times when sustaining life one day at a time was the sole objective of living, I prayed. Everyone who claims to be an atheist (like I used to do until 1-2 years ago) needs to find themselves alone at their lowest, and there comes the realisation that yes, God may not exist, but man's belief in him keeps him afloat. That's how, at least, my perception of a higher power—a divine creator—has evolved over time. God may not be the pictures and idols we worship; he/she/it may not like the things and delicacies we offer, but the belief that some higher energy exists, is watching you, believes in you, and shall help you make things better for yourself goes a LONG way when in the middle of the crisis sea alone.

    I found my God during these seven months that I chose to live alone in a rented house in Guwahati. Since it was the transition phase, I barely had any friends; the few that I did were mostly always busy with their own shit. I wasn't someone who enjoyed her own company back then, I have come a long way since then, but I still get gloomy if left alone for more than 24 hours. Anyway, the prolonged unwanted solitude made me gloomier, and I began writing a manifestation journal. My sister suggested that I use a red pen (idk why, but I did) and write down the things I wanted to happen for myself. I began doing that. One day, it was "I am kind to myself and love my own company." And some other day it would be "I am making good progress in my research work." I would fill the page with the same sentence and call it the day's manifestation. I would even light an incense stick before the deities in my room (whose installation was my mind's safety net against possible ghosts and spirits, lol) and sing a prayer in my own way of addressing God, which would usually begin with an internal monologue of "Hi, what's up?"

    Anyhow, today I'm in a better place. I have been able to walk out of the turmoil and embrace all that life has made possible for me. I'm also slowly embracing the fact that it's okay if I am not always earning; I need to learn to live off the pocket money I get like most kids do. My biggest handicap is my inability to manage my money and I feel that's why God keeps testing me with paucity. I kinda feel like I'm the younger version of my dad when this happens, but I'm a fool if I can't learn, evolve, and change in spite of this self-awareness. Anyway, right now, I've embraced the life of a scholar who engages solely in academic pursuits, and I know this will be rewarding in its due time. When you're an unemployed adult still in academia, it's hard to navigate the dilemma of, 'Should I even be doing this? Should I just drop out and start working like everybody else?' You may have a zillion people telling you that it's just a struggle period before you reap the sweet fruits of your hard work and all that, but inner acceptance is all that matters.

    So when these and many other existential thoughts cross my mind, at least ten times on a normal day (and about a thousand times when I'm PMS-ing), I write. I write gratitude notes, I write manifestation sentences, I pray and I hope. Hope keeps the boat afloat. That's the golden rule of my life right now and, of course, manifestation. This has been a common term in the social media world lately, but I realised its power this morning when a ray of the monsoon sunlight gently made its way to my room through the netted window and showed me how I'm exactly where I dreamed to be in my lowest times, a few months ago. Visualizing your happy picture takes you closer to it than you can ever imagine.

    So, I guess, what I'm trying to say here is this: Dream of your happy place quite often, and soon your reality will feel happier than that picture!

Happy Wednesday!

Life of a Researcher - Part I

Dear Readers,

I know my blog has received its share of appreciation and encouragement from my loved ones over the last nine years and for that, I'm so very grateful. I began writing as a sixteen-year-old love-lorn teenager and am now a twenty-five-year-old research scholar. A lot has changed within and around me over these years and as I sit here today, finally satisfied with where I've landed for my Ph.D., I'm compelled to make a mid-year status update here, to let you and the self know that good things take time and that not every rejection means you're unworthy or undeserving. I've realised that patience and gratitude despite dearth are the key to changing the circumstances of one's life.

As you'd recall, or perhaps find through scrolling this blog, I took a major life decision around a year back, packed my life in cartons and bags, and moved to a city, closer to home, yet distant from being my 'home.' I went there with an open heart but was satisfied and content there on very few occasions. In retrospect, I'd like to believe that God was testing my endurance and ability to sustain solo. I now think of my time at Guwahati as a trailer for the movie that Ph.D. is - an arduous and lonely journey towards a title that comes after much study, perseverance and patience.

It took a lot of guilt and the pressure of disappointing academic stalwarts for me to leave Guwahati and return to my alma mater, here in Hyderabad. It's been two weeks that I'm back to this campus that once liberated my caged thoughts and dreams, and suddenly, I find myself feeling all the feels that Ph.D. is known for. The title of a 'Doctor,' comes after much sacrifice. To see people your age earn hefty salaries and lead their best lives, or to think of making ends meet on a tight monthly budget; to think of the next topic you're going to work on for an upcoming conference or to constantly ponder about your research variables and study methodology, to wonder if you're losing your social skills by not doing social stuff for far too long, or to wonder if your friends will outgrow your company owing to prolonged loss of contact....are some of the perennial dilemmas that adorn the seemingly prestigious crown of being a research scholar.

When people say that it's wise to have a JRF before joining a Ph.D., they're right in a way because the financial dependency on family and the constant blow on one's self-esteem can be counter-productive in the research journey which in itself is known to be challenging. That being said, one must also remember that a meagre 1% of the lakhs of thousands of candidates sitting for the NET exams every cycle get selected for JRF. Being from an unreserved category just amplifies the probability of not bagging a Junior Research Fellowship. But even when you have a JRF, one cannot expect that life will be any better, because the journey to earn a Ph.D. in itself is excruciating on many levels. So how does one ensure a heartbreak-free journey?

In all honesty, one cannot have this assurance that every day of this journey will be fruitful, satisfying or even productive. There will be good days with a lot of progress and hope, and then there will be the not-so-good days when one questions their worth, worthiness or even knowledge. And this isn't specific to just the life of a research scholar. You may be a corporate employee, a govt. job holder, a homemaker, retired personnel or just anybody with one or more of your wishes and prayers granted, and while living those dreams and wishes, you'll still feel incomplete, unhappy or unfulfilled. That's how humans were made....that's where the basic economic theory of 'human wants are unlimited' comes into play.

I began this blog post by stating how I felt the need to update here how my life has been as a Ph.D. student and as I began delving into my chain of thoughts regarding this, I realised that there are multiple layers to this question and not every state of mind is apt to address all of these layers. Today, I spoke more about the lonely and arduous part of it, I'm certain that on another day when the sun shines brighter, I'll have better things to say about this sweet journey towards self-discovery and knowledge expansion. Until then, I'd like to share some of my favourite pictures that symbolise my research journey:

 

To all the guys I've loved before...

    There's something about seeing the people you once loved get hitched that hits a weirdly hidden melancholic chord in your heart. Today marks one such day, for the third time in my life, when I feel a quickly vanishing yet piercing pain in the heart in the middle of my usual doom-scrolling session when I see the engagement pictures of a certain muse to whose romantic rejection I owe the inspiration to this blog and the forlorn beginning of my journey as a poet. 

    For those of you who've seen and known me in my hopeless romantic era, guessing who this person is won't be hard. For the rest, here's another relationship-realisation-reflection post you didn't ask for. 

    This marks the third time I'm seeing a person I was romantically linked with (in the past) step into the wondrous, albeit strenuous, world of marriage. Long-term commitments have never seemed like a good idea to me. I have seen so many unhappy marriages and unsuccessful relationships around me that the mere idea of taking on the extra baggage of 'forever' with another person gave me the jitters. But adamant non-believers like me are often paired with hardcore believers by the creator that sits above us. Destiny played its game, and I ended up in a fling—a rebound relationship, if you will—that has stretched itself for almost a decade now, soon to convert (hopefully) into one of these marriage things that I'm so vehemently against (still).

Image by Bruno from Pixabay

    Anyway, I've been on the receiving end of love, respect, loyalty, and kindness for a long time now and know that it's extremely rare to find such treatment in our generation. I know I, too, would be stuck in the shipwreck of situationships and one-night-stands had it not been for this one genuinely true bond that now colours my life in shades of the 'forever' that I used to be and still am occasionally scared of. 

    Yes, there's an inexplicable skip of a heartbeat when you see an ex enter into a long-term commitment with someone else. Its bound to be weird since you once hoped to be that person for them, but I guess, at some point, you realise that life knows better than your wishes. You may think that life with someone else would be brighter, but trust life to give you only that which is suitable for you and that which you can handle—nothing more, nothing less.

    Today, I'm grateful that I didn't end up with all these three people because one's a manipulative chauvinist, the other is an ignorant nincompoop, and the third, well, he is a Greek god in terms of looks but is known to be a casanova. Everything happens for a reason, and everything that doesn't happen doesn't happen for an even better reason. The key lies in accepting this game of fate, although the momentary instinct is to turn bitter against everything.

    So today, a mature version of my teenage self speaks to all the guys I've loved before and wishes them a happy life with whoever they ended up with. I sincerely hope their lives have an abundance of love and light. As for me, I'm gradually transforming from a non-believer to a believer in marriage and all things family. Hopefully, there's light at the end of this tunnel of recovering from dystopian glimpses of yore for me.

    I now know the importance of people who value you, listen to you, and love you. I began the Guwahati chapter of my life with much reluctance, and it took me almost half a year to realise and accept that even in the slowness, biasedness, and blandness of this city, there's something I can always learn, do, and be. Today, I'm more grounded and grateful for all the blessings I have unknowingly overlooked over the last 3-4 years! Life seems beautiful today.

 

Finding my Hiraeth

    My boyfriend tells me that living with your people in your home state feels different...that there is nothing like it. His ultimate aim is to find a decent-paying job that allows him to shift back to Assam (our home state), and while that's completely okay and suits his preferences, it's not mandatory that I feel the same way. Over the years of being in a relationship and seeing couples around me, I developed the opinion that it takes compromises to make things work in a long-term relationship. And while I've seen ambitious wives willingly leave their high-paying jobs (often higher than their husbands) to raise the kids, I don't see them being exactly 'happy' about it. These women, for the sake of their families and everything that patriarchy expects of women, sacrifice their dreams, their preferences, and their ideal bodies and then go around selflessly serving the ones they love. Three years ago, I was halfway there, with these women, in a place where sacrifice came naturally to me, but not anymore.

    My university education has exposed me to a new class of women—the ones who have it all—families, kids, jobs, friends, freedom, independence, and everything else. I've also seen women with a few of these many things willingly chosen or removed from their lives—job satisfaction and luxury minus a husband, or perhaps a great job and a loving husband minus the kid....and it all works for them; they seem 'happy,' unlike the above scenario where sacrifice makes everyone happy but the self. This post is not about feminism; I have too little knowledge on the subject to write a blog post on it.

    It's a Saturday today, a weekend, and I woke up at 5:21 a.m. (about the usual time). Then, I willingly chose to stay in bed and catch another round of sleep. As is the case with morning sleep, the best nap happened from then until about 9:30 a.m. I was content. I could have left the bed then, but I chose to break the early morning cycle, with it being the weekend and me having nothing better to do and all of that. So, I decided to finish the film I began watching the previous night. By the time I was done with the movie, it was 11 a.m. So, I finally left the bed. I made myself some tea and had it with half a packet of Marie Biscuits (this combo is my all-time favourite). While doing all of this, a thought came to me: I should go out. It has been three days since I left the house, and while the inner traveller wants to step out and explore Guwahati, two very logical problems stop me: firstly, the stupid humidity and heat of the place, and secondly, I don't want to spend my money. So yeah, the overpowering voice in my head that constantly tells me to YOLO it away has suddenly succumbed to reason, and I am simply amazed. This has never happened before, at least not while I was in Hyderabad and Bangalore. I know that reason is the better friend; the proof remains in my fewer travel stories in Shillong. I just didn't want the same thing to happen while I was out there in a metropolitan city so I had made an unofficial pact with myself that for the brief period that I was away from Assam, I would make the most of everything and travel as much as I could, hang out with people from different states, gather knowledge from them, exchange cultural experiences, etc.

    

    But here we are, three years later, back in the home state where reason has a better chance of sustaining itself than YOLO wale feelings. So yeah, I am saving money and choosing not to step out much. My parents were here for two days, and I had to go out a lot with them, but now there's very little reason for me to step out. I have even switched back from Instamarting and BigBasketing everything home to going to the local shop and getting stuff. A major lifestyle change is happening here, and I'm not exactly unhappy about it. But because of all of this and the fact that I'm here for my Ph.D. and that I should be engaged with books and research rather than idling my time and money away on the streets, I have switched to a low-key life. If you follow my Instagram stories and post captions, you'll remember that lately, my life has been very unstable and that I've constantly been on the move. I have prayed for things to slow down, for some permanence and stability, and I have also feared that the stability would make my life dull and make me all gloomy, like my childhood and lockdown days.

    So, this morning, when I woke up and had the mental monologue of whether I should go out, I realized that the fear was materializing. I am stable but not happy about it. Turns out, I was happiest when I was living out of a bag in an unknown land, adjusting, trying local food, making reels and stories, travelling, seeing the world, and just living freely. That I realized is my hiraeth. The dictionary defines hiraeth as 'a deep sense of longing, a yearning for that which has passed.' It is homesickness and yearning for a home or loved place. But having found my hiraeth and looking at its definition, I feel the need to dig deeper into the subject because what I crave is far from the definition of hiraeth or that which my boyfriend craves. He craves home and all that's known and familiar, whereas I find bliss in the unknown, the anonymity, and the fear of being lost in a sea of lost.

    Hiraeth is a longing for a home or homesickness of some sort. But who decides the definition of home? Home could mean different things to different people. Home could be a feeling or a person, too. So, what’s home for me, I wonder? I finally realized that for me, home is any place where I am alone with strangers; home is a comfortable room with all my essentials and a deep desire to travel, write, click, and exist. Home to me is a room and a feeling. Google tells me that this longing that I have for a faraway place is called fernweh and is actually the opposite of hiraeth. Shocking, isn’t it?

    Now, the dictionary defines fernweh as ‘a desire to go to faraway places.’ It’s wanderlust of some sort. While I agree that my yearning is for a faraway land, an unknown place that I eventually fall in love with, it’s also my home. So, could the opposites be the same under certain circumstances? Could my hiraeth be my fernweh, and vice versa? In my case, the answer is yes.

    At the beginning of this post, I talked about how people compromise in relationships. My decision to relocate to Guwahati was something close to a compromise, a compromise not just for the long-term feasibility of my romantic commitments but also for my filial duties. However, two weeks down the road, I see myself deeply unhappy. I know it's too soon to discard a beginning, for beginnings are often rough. But a part of me has realized over the last two weeks that I may not ever be entirely happy with a place again, and I have accepted that too. When has life ever been perfect for anyone? Some parts of our lives are more special than others, and some memories are evergreen while others instantly fade, and that's what makes them precious. Change eventually catches up, no matter how fast we are at running towards the things we love. So my mind tells me two things: either stay back and try to love where you are, or run away to that which makes you truly happy. After all, it's your life—not your lover's or your family's. And then I go numb. The selfless version of me who's now made room for a version that believes in self-love is lost. I am so lost. Whoever said that adulthood is better than adolescence knows nothing. Your twenties are as complicated and confusing as your teens. My friends and I talk about this every day. No, it never gets easier; you just learn to cope better. Even if you don't learn to cope better, you begin complaining less and panicking less; you just deal with sh*t and move on to the next challenge that awaits you. All our loved ones have done that, and we are doing that too. That's how life works.

    Amidst all that chaos, if you manage to find your hiraeth on a random Saturday morning, as I did, appreciate the realization and make room for it without disrupting the rhythm of your present. Life is lived in the little pleasures and small breaks. A lifelong vacation is no vacation; the key to everything beautiful is balance. It took me some time to realize it, but I finally saw it, and I am working on accepting it every day. Guwahati isn't my hiraeth; it never will be, but it could be the place that allows me to breathe freely whenever I choose to visit my hiraeth. So, let's bloom where we are planted and reach for the stars! Let's embrace change as it embraces us. Fernweh or hiraeth, willingly or unwillingly, one must make room for reality whenever it knocks on your door. It's at my door now, so I must leave now. Thank you for being patient readers. Have a lovely weekend!

In the name of adulting

Image Source: SnapwireSnaps

    If you ask me, change doesn't feel good—never has, never will. But change has always been a welcome guest. It's been a week since I shifted base, and I am still struggling to mentally accept this HUGE change that has somehow affected every single aspect of my life. For the first time, I'm without friends in a city; for the first time, I am living alone in a huge house; and there are so many other things I've done for the first time in the last week. Yet, for the first time, I don't feel like continuing. The idea of change has never failed to excite me; however, this time, it feels like the bulb of my life has suddenly become dimmer; like I've come from the summer of my life to a premature decay. A part of me screams every morning, asking me to leave everything and run away—run away to all that I love, all that now lives and breathes in different parts of the country. And then there is the other part, the sensible one, that tells me to shut up and go on with the day.

    Humidity is a killer of productivity. Summers are unbearable in Hyderabad. I've had days when nothing I'd do would help me breathe peacefully in Hyderabad's heat. But things somehow feel worse in Assam's heat, mainly because of the humidity in our air. The constant sweating and heaviness of the air make one irritable and unwilling to give one's best in whatever they are engaged in. This has been a common complaint from residents in our part of the country. Living away from this place for the last 5–6 summers somehow took away this irritable summer memory from me. When I sat on that flight from Bangalore to Guwahati a week ago, I didn't expect it to be this hot and humid. On the contrary, I was expecting showers. But here we are, travelling in the crowded city bus for 3–4 hours every day in the unbearable Guwahati heat.

    There's more than just the weather, my separation from my loved ones, or my unsatisfying solitude that have made embracing this city and this change difficult for me, but I am not ready to talk about it. Perhaps I am ready mentally, but I am still struggling to find the right words and approach to express such a thing on a blogging forum. That's a task for another day when I am in a better place, but right now, all I feel is a terrible void of trying to survive in a city with known unknowns, possessed have-nots, and all things paradoxical. I am hoping for things to turn in my favour, not just for now but on a long-term basis. I know it isn't too much to expect from one's life; it's just that we are a generation of overthinkers. Right now, there is this dilemma of whether to embrace things as they are or keep manifesting that faint ray of hope that has the potential of reuniting me with all that I deeply adore. And what's at stake, you ask? Well, it's my heart on one hand and my happiness on the other. Lucky are those whose hearts and happiness lie in the same place. For the rest of us, it's plain sacrifice and compromise in the name of adulting.

Of new cities

I took a big step by deciding to leave the metropolitan life that I'm so fond of, and coming to my home state - to a place with less avenues, yet people with a more helpful nature. Like any other place, there are plus and minus points of being in Guwahati that the last 24 hours of mentally accepting to be a part of this city has brought to my notice. I'll start with the positives:

• The city is sweet. Because I know the local language, and have so many relatives in the city, there's always security and assurance that I won't get lost anywhere or that people won't exploit me. Everything safe is just a dial away.
• There's Uber and Ola, so if you wanna skip the city bus traffic and discomfort, there's that luxury for just an extended budget.
• Home is an overnight journey away so I know that I can keep going and checking in on the old folks any time I want or any time there is a need.
• The food options here are quite nice and in line with the eastern palette. No more craving for juicy momos and settling for rubbery, overpriced ones; or yearning for Chicken thali and Kaji Nemu and making do with average food and the regular chota nimbu. Food in restaurants is, by and large, cheaper than the bigger cities which again is a BIG plus point, especially for students.
• Things are comparatively cheaper if you know how to live. If you chose to travel by city bus, eat basic homely food, spend less on posh stuff, then this is the perfect place to save money. Although all these apply to any place, this statement is keeping in mind the price difference.

Now coming to the downside which I now see and hope to overcome in the near future:

• I don't own a place here. So I gotta rent a place and that is not an easy thing to do especially in the absence of apps like NoBroker that let you set your requirements and look for a place accordingly.
• If you don't know how to ride a car or scooty, or if you don't own a personal vehicle then daily commute has the probability of soaking up all your productive energy (no metros or local trains here, just the city buses, e-rickshaws or Tata Magics). But yeah, good music on earphones helps. I also feel, carrying a book for a light read, or having meaningful podcasts on your earphones could be a nice way to utilise the commute time. Ofcourse the ultimate time-killer - talking to your parents, siblings, friends, or partners on phone tops this list!
• You can't say KELA out loud like you would in other cities of the country and world without being judged for randomly and loudly uttering the official swear word of the state, and that too being a lady! So yeah, no fun like that. Also, since most of the people you interact with are probably gonna be L1 Assamese speakers, there's no excitement of teaching KELA and other curse words to non-Assamese speakers ( a delight I thoroughly enjoyed during my time at Bangalore and Hyderabad). But this isn't really a downside, this point is really just for me!
• People are judgemental and narrow-minded to a great extent. Although Guwahati is the biggest, most populous and most developed city of the state, our people are yet to evolve out of their gossipy and judgemental mentality. This is not a generalisation but the reality of the vast majority. Perhaps by the time our generation becomes the oldies in town, things will get better, cause my generation and the ones after and just years before us are pretty open-minded, accepting and chill. I make this comment after having enjoyed and admired the anonymity that city life brings!

And a few general downsides include pollution, and traffic. However, I'm here for at least 5 years and if destiny makes it happen, then perhaps for even longer. So I think it's in my best interest to try and see the good in this city that I'll now call 'home.' Guwahati has always been a vacation destination for me. I've only come here on my summer and winter vacations to spend time with the paternal side of the family.

Growing up, I visited Guwahati multiple times but my visits were limited to home visits or prolonged stays at my Uncle's house in Beltola. As a college kid, Guwahati became the transit hub - I would come to Khanapara or ISBT to board my buses to Duliajan. Guwahati was the midway where I would change vehicles from Shillong to my hometown, and so, exploring Guwahati wasn't that readily available an option. There were a few times when I visited this city to hang out with my friends (this was during UG), but even then I was a pillion rider, an uber-dependent and ignorant traveller, or simply a guest who was taken care of by the others. I never felt the need to be on my own ever in this city. There has always been someone or the other to show the way or hold my hand.

Through my travels through life and places, I've learned that attachment to a place is strongest when you know the place well and can confidently travel alone in it. This hasn't been the case for me in Guwahati so far and perhaps that's why the city hasn't grown on me in the last two decades. But I think beginning my PhD here would serve as the ideal space for me to acquaint myself with the ways of this city. Guwahati is the Mahanagri that so many of my friends are genuinely fond of. It's the city that witnessed my father's glorious youth. I think it's fate that I'm here alone and in my twenties, walking the same streets that my father had once walked on as a guy in his twenties! A guy from a lower-middle class family in Nazira once stepped into this city with eyes full of dreams, and he left with so much! Today, here's his youngest child struggling to fulfill similar dreams! Life has come full circle. The question now is, will there be a mutual acceptance between me and the city?

The answer will probably be here in this page, some years down the lane, in the form of my memories and yearnings. But the hope that these memories will be those of fondness, growth and mirth is strongest now than ever before. It's 6:30 in the evening now, I'm sitting at this cafe called Quick Pick in Silpukhuri (entered to enjoy the AC vibe and ended up having a delectable Chicken Roll and Masala Cola), I spent 3 hours in the city bus going and coming from the University today. Room hunting on foot is no piece of cake. I'm exhausted but happy that the first day alone in the city hasn't been so bad after all! Here's to new chapters in old places....to adulting and struggling for the cause of the bigger picture! Here's to beginning life as a research scholar!

The magnificent and the mundane

    Sometimes I wonder if I'm living a lie. Sometimes my life seems too good to be true. You know, those moments when you're on a car ride with those you hold close: there's the beautiful scenery outside, a chilling breeze adding layers to your hair, there's carefree laughter, a sense of belongingness, a sense of joy, contentment, peace and everything else that completes the idea of perfection and bliss. And then there are times when life seems a lie because of all the unwanted solitude, the self-imposed exile, the disturbing thoughts, the weight kept on your chest to relieve loved ones from the pain your words might inflict on them, the weight of carrying unrevealable secrets and sins, the self-loathe driven by under-achievement and exceeding expectations from the self and others...and just plain, painful existence. Both scenarios make life seem like a lie and I don't know why but in recollection, the two emotions feel the same. Like, the good days and the bad days merge to become this memory that life is...it's so simple that I find this explanation futile yet much needed for my emotional release. 

    There's so much more I can add to this, and maybe I will today. Why leave everything to be understood or implied? Sometimes it's good to address and acknowledge the obvious. If not for the world, then at least for the self...not doing so, in my opinion, eventually fades out the thin line between the 'magnificent' and the 'mundane'. So, I'll attempt to track my magnificent and mundane moments today, so that, I know that my existence isn't futile, no matter what the inner insecurities make me believe.

    I'm sitting in a park, surrounded by strangers of all age groups and presumably, different social classes. There's the old couple that's lived life, gained perspective, done their duties and is now out for a walk. There's the middle-aged couple that probably has lived a middle-class life providing for the family and is now struggling with the growing ailments of middle age, and hence has incorporated an evening walk into their schedule. There are countless kids at the play area with their boisterous chattering and antics, the bachelors running hard to let go of academic and/or professional baggage. The teenagers on the phone with their lovers can't be missed either. And then amidst all this stereotypical and subconscious story-formation in the head, while brisk walking to release my own mental blockage, there's the accidental eye contact with a sweet-looking elderly, the innocent smile of a toddler being held from both sides by either parent, the pleasurable checking-out of a good looking stranger and the excitement of treating myself with coconut water after finishing the much needed 10k steps of the day. This mundane seems magnificent right now and I'm sure it will continue to feel the same if and when I come back to this post later.

    The magnificent for me, also includes the kindness I receive every day, the help I get without asking for it, and the compassion extended my way when there's little hope of even being understood. Friends who go the extra mile to make you reach your destination, people who let you inhabit their private spaces and make you feel welcome, so that you may experience that which was probably never accessible to them, lovers who overlook your flaws and make you feel loved despite it all, parents who seldom show affection but manage to get print-outs of you posting about your achievements online, despite their technological inexperience and barriers. I wish I had better memory and permanent storage in my head to remember the countless moments of love and affection I've received lately, but there's nothing that matches words. Words have always been my truest comrade, not pictures, not videos, just words. And of late, I've learned to appreciate gestures too. So, deeds recollected in words are what I find to be the best means of recording the magnificent and perhaps, of overlooking or letting go of the not-so-magnificent (mundane) memories.

    Coming back to things that make my life seem like a lie in a good way. Talk about funny friends whose comments make you laugh hysterically and forget all your woes. Or a home-cooked meal prepared with love, a long hug where you can feel the other person's heart pump, an eagerly awaited text from a loved one, appreciation from a mentor, expressing gratitude for the kindness received, taking the high road and keeping your cool when all you want to do is be as sarcastic, insensitive or mean as the other person...basically, all things that sustain relationships and help them thrive. There's more but I feel content and must stop now. As perfect as the picture of the park I described above is, it is not without mosquitoes, so I must leave now.

Here's to living life despite the moments when it doesn't feel worth living. Here's to cherishing the good, embracing the bad and finding a way to redefine the ugly. Here's to the magnificent in the mundane!