Yearning

The strains of "o re piya" reverberate through my mind...for the last few days, the wistful notes of this song have permeated my entire day, mingling with the subdued desires and the unexpressed disappointments to create an overwhelming atmosphere of melancholy that I find intensely self-indulgent and irritating. My energy levels continue to be low, the reasons for which I am not interested in dissecting. The books I have read, including The Swimming Pool Library, exacerbate this mood and the lack of any sustained interaction with people who would normally perk me up prolongs it.

Every few hours I look up at the colors of the sky, where the blend of grey and brown makes me feels as if the collective miseries of the populace have drifted upwards. The sense of oppression, of bearing a burden, deepens.

I long for a cool breeze, a splash of water, a vista of green, a smile of love, a hug of affection, an exchange of stimulants, a gesture of respect, a symbol of achievement, an expression of art, a moment of reaffirmation. I want to be alive again. 

turnaround...

After a wretched, numb week, some relief. A couple of pleasant chats with V, an unexpectedly stimulating conversation at work (but what insights! I was freaked), an evening of beer and laughter, a late night peaceful conversation over Monopoly - got me feeling more like myself. So, despite the continuing doubts, questions and pain, this weekend will hopefully be a relatively nice one. 

I just want to be me

Why cant I just be myself? How is everyone else allowed to be grumpy, low, depressed, snappy, tired, switched off, confused, irritated, off, angry, disappointed, disillusioned...while I start feeling guilty, or am made to feel guilty, as soon as I display any of this for more than a few moments at a stretch? So...more for the sake of others than myself...I get up every morning, and put on a smile and some brains at my dressing table, enough to last me the day and its interactions and conversations. But finally I am alone. And if I want to think about the horrible month that May always is, I will. And if I want to get angry at people, I will. And if I want to feel sorry for myself, I will. And if I want to swim in the past, I will. And if I want to not think about tomorrow, I won't. And if I want to scream, I will. If I want to drive with music blaring, I will. If I want to cry, I will. If I want to sit in silence, I will. I will be myself. 

Bittersweet? Or nothing?

Its funny how things work...and how all the disjointed parts seems to fit together in the end like a parable.

I am not sure where it all started...maybe with my long vacation-cum-renaissance? And then the calmer, more aware, and possibly more receptive me. And receptive to...that fateful morning at Golden Palms. A few days, I am still struggling with the implications for my Goa trip with DB, as Deepa and L ask me fundamental questions - if your mindspace could be taken over, maybe it wasn't occupied? if you haven't moved on, can he?.

Coincidentally, it was L who had acted as the catalyst for my change of heart in 2006 too. Anyway, so there I was in Goa, striking a much delayed conversation with DB, causing and feeling some awkwardness, some pain and some relief. I came back in tears.

And then two stories unfolded. Mine has no middle and no end, and is more a rollercoaster ride than a journey.  His was a conscious saga, of reflection and sanity, and possibly peace too. Borne of pain, it is nevertheless a positive step.

I didn't know his story of course. Till today. The long chat, the news of his impending marriage. I shared my thoughts, my questions, my concerns, my genuine wishes. I know what he was waiting for. My feelings. But, like the last few years, I stayed quiet. I really don't know what I feel. 

Restless sleep and a tearful day

I spent more than ninety minutes on Deepa’s couch tonight, a fitting metaphor for the day. She could sense my restlessness, my fluctuating mood and the detachment, and asked me about it. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to bring forth the simple thing that was at the root…it’s the day Daddy passed away.

While our family and I don’t believe in them, I wonder if that’s why we have all these rituals on such occasions – to distract and soothe? Like any other day when I have something on my mind, I spent the day at two levels…conducting normal conversations, going about my normal work at one; and going through a tougher set of thoughts and emotions at another. Maybe just immersing myself in mindless rituals would have calmed me down…like gardening. Anyway.

I remember my primary emotion in the few months immediately after the event in 1997 was not grief or shock, but worry. A few weeks before he passed away, he and Mummy had made a painful, irritating, expensive and useless trip to Delhi, the true reason for which got revealed by Mama later – that, in a hotel room, Daddy had asked Mama and Masi to take care of us if/when something happened to him. I know that he was worried about us, knowing very well our financial and emotional condition at that time. And I am superstitious enough to believe that a soul that has so much attachment and worry, can never find peace or release.

So my mantra over the next few years, every time I thought of him, was “We are ok…don’t worry….we are ok”. I never allowed the depressions to last too long, never allowed the feelings of helplessness to overwhelm me. Chin up, doing what I like, being as happy as I could on a day to day basis, I could just assert my message.

Today as I look back, I think I succeeded to an extent. Or rather, we succeeded. From the rubble that our lives were fifteen years ago, we have managed to build something that, we believe, is strong and sustainable. Of course, one never knows what tomorrow holds. But at least these fifteen years have seen many moments of growth, joy, love, happiness…and most importantly, independence. Something we lacked for many years and craved.

But am I happy with myself? Have I truly done what I should? I love so many, I am loved by so many…but have I always been there, supported, eased the lives of all those people? Betu, for whom I know Mama was terribly worried when he passed away? Mummy, whose inner loneliness has just increased her clinical state of depression? L, who continues to face challenges in the face of all justice? Shalini, who struggled with fundamentals throughout with a smile on her face? Unni, who tries to balance his inner demons with the harsh realities of the world? Dolly, who truly made every single effort for Nanima? Nanima herself, who tried to speak to me much more often than I did?

I could go on and on with more names…but I know there’s no use in that…this will just become an exercise in self-pity. So I will stop. And just let this mix of grief, worry, disappointment, relief, pride, contentment, discontentment take me over and lead me through another night of restless sleep. 

Care to get on a rollercoaster?

The easiest response to a question around how you are doing is to mention that you are on a rollercoaster. Most people either smile knowingly or sympathetically, and sometimes nod their heads in commiseration or make gentle clucking sounds. A few of them will clutch your arm and lean in for more information. That’s because everyone believes their life is a rollercoaster, even the ones who are seated comfortably on rides that might appear grandmotherly to you. The theory of relativity applies here too.

Relative or not, I do liken my life to a rollercoaster quite often, as any perusal of my blog posts reveals. This is not because I have any love for them. In fact, my oft-repeated desire is also to lead a quiet, stable life. I do suspect though that within me lives a little gene who disagrees vehemently and plots marvelously to ensure that as I am making my way to the pink candy stand in the corner, I suddenly find myself about to embark on a rollercoaster. And once you are at the gate, and the gatekeeper looks at you with an expectant gaze, you cant help but shrug and board the damn thing.

And considering that I have boarded the damn thing all too often, I may as well give something back to the world, my own mini-tutorial for boys and girls who have embarked, or are thinking of embarking, on a journey on a rollercoaster.

So here it is, my “Top 10 things to remember when riding a rollercoaster” –

1. The rollercoaster will always start with a jerk, pun unintended. Don’t expect a smooth take-off, this will be sudden, it will be quick, and it will leave you breathless. What it will not be is out of your control, you did take the decision to sit on it in the first place.
2. The dread that you feel as it starts is not a figment of your over-active imagination, but your well oiled instincts kicking in. And they are right. You are in for a “ride”. And it’s too late to get off, so you may as well sit back and grin. Weakly or otherwise.
3. The ride will gain pace at a rate that will leave you questioning your judgment and looking longingly at those happy-looking people sitting on those rides far, far below you. Just don’t blame the gatekeeper for ushering you in.
4. While your terror is yours and absolutely yours, it is also shared by many others who are around you. They can’t help you, they can’t even give you a hug, but they feel the same way and that should count. After all, misery loves company.
5. As you reach the peak, and feel the burst of exhilaration that comes with it, keep in mind the sharp drop and sinking feeling that will surely follow it. Not that knowing it will help you prevent it or even be prepared for it. Its just that knowledge is armor. Of a kind.
6. The good news that is the corollary also holds true. As you hit rock bottom and want your life to end (or your brains to blow themselves out), a little part of you will provide that much needed silver lined thought that an upswing will follow soon.
7. When the rollercoaster turns to the left, you will need to swing a little to the right to balance it out. And the reverse too. If you want to bring some stability into the ride, and into your veins, follow this little trick.
8. However tough your seatbelts are, however tightly you hold on to the sides, you will still feel as if you are falling in space and there’s nothing, and no one, to hold you together. Which is not altogether untrue. Remember, you are alone in your terror and the knot you have in your stomach. But yes, if you were sensible enough to put some seatbelts in the first place, you are inherently safe.
9. There will the screams of your fellow passengers, the twisting & turning blur of the surrounding landscape, the screech of the ride’s wheels and assorted other forms of sensory overload during the ride. To retain sanity, shut it all out and focus on your heart, even if its beating at an inhuman rate. The steady beats and what they tell you will even you out.
10. And finally, your heartbeat will slow to a normal pace as the ride slows and comes to a halt. Even as normalcy returns and you feel that you might live again, don’t be surprised if you find yourself questioning if that life is worth living at all. Especially if the halt is sudden, which it usually is. You will get off, and totter and twist and maybe even fall down in a heap.

But later, once a suitable distance has asserted itself, you will talk to someone about the ride and say “it was worth it”. And it is. 

All around me

Every smile, every touch, every gesture, every smell.

The stream of lights, the extra bean bag, the empty bottles of water, the pink movie cover, the tissue box, the strip of medicine, the half-dry towel, the pummeled pillow , the unwashed mugs

The moments, the words, the music, the dance.

Within and around. Everywhere.

V

In the deep lurks an immense reservoir of senses, where emotions past and present mingle to form a complex compound that is as opaque as it is fluid. Each experience is distilled to its purest form and flows into this vast space, and is returned as a learning, a judgment or a belief.

The walls appear solid and near impossible to breach, and shimmer protectively whenever confronted with corrosive situations and souls. But it doesn't take long for the wind to flow in reverse, and the vitriol to seep into the reservoir. Over a longer period of time, as it accumulates, the vitriol starts corroding from within and makes it way outwards. And the world around a seemingly peaceful depth is surprised by this, not realizing that this is the same acid that they had sent in the first place.

At the surface, the eyes twinkle and laugh and yet pierce effortlessly through the fake armors of the world around, laying bare the insecurities, the hopes, the aspirations, the subtle desires, the machinations, the aggression. These follies flow back and contaminate the very soul that looked upon them askance earlier, leaving the eyes dulled and in pain.

A joyous soul tries to find harmony in the world around, balancing the deeper needs of that reservoir with the practical need of the surface, trying to build relationships that last, to find meaning in the mundane. And every so often, the joyousness starts feeling a little forced, and the balance goes awry, and the puzzlement and confusion shows up, translating into a maelstrom of words and thoughts that create art. 

The mind is that of a man, the heart of a child. The push and the pull continues to a point where the soul tires itself out, and then halts, leaving in its place a silence and an emptiness that can heal and desolate.

Beauty is relative. And a state of mind. Harmony is a desire. Emotions are the baggage. Art is a prison and a liberation. And love. Love is stimulus. Love is relief.