One day at a time

 

I did good today. I woke up before noon, ate within an hour of waking up instead of guzzling down coffee, finished some decent amount of work, and cooked an entire meal. 

So every woman does it, right? Balancing office tasks and domestic chores. Raising children, looking after husbands, attending to the needs of the inlaws...

But sometimes, even getting out of bed seems like an impossible thing to do when you have depression numbness. You are trapped in a neverending cycle of sleepless nights and tired mornings. You can't sleep at night because your world comes crashing down every night as the world pauses for reset, and then you can't function during the day because of lack of sleep and because the normal functioning daytime world is too much for your exhausted brain to handle. 

I have been in depression for a long time. And I pushed through it for years, because we don't pay attention to mental-health crisis until we are neck-deep in that, do we? 

You don't really need to have experienced major trauma to be depressed, you know. It could be years of living in a very ordinary family who just lives from paycheck to paycheck. It could be years of logging in and logging out from Monday to Friday. It could be years of just waiting for the weekend and then wasting it by doing nothing because you are exhausted after a tiring week. 

Depression hits different to different people. For me, it began years ago when I lost my grandfather in 1997-98. Until I was in school and college with friends, it didn't matter much. I managed because I was with people who made me feel safe and complete. Even when I started working, it seemed manageable. But when I got married, I drifted away from my friends. There were inlaws that needed to be pleased, bills and debts that needed to be paid, relations that needed to be maintained.  

You keep giving away pieces of yourself to people and places without even checking if there's enough left for you. More often than not, those who give themselves to others, are rarely reciprocated. You keep going at the same speed when it all started. And when you realise you can't do it anymore, you realise you are all alone, mentally exhausted, and emotionally numb.

I have had, and still have days where sleep comes at dawn. Nights are spent on overthinking and missing my father, whom I lost recently. There are days when I feel too overwhelmed to do something as simple as getting out of my bed. I can't find even the simplest motivation to eat or do the chores. The unclean kitchen upsets me and the mental exhaustion makes it impossible for me to even do the dishes. 

I did good today. I woke up before noon, ate within an hour of waking up instead of guzzling down coffee, finished some decent amount of work, and cooked an entire meal. Not only that, I cleaned the kitchen as I was cooking, had a bath, and even sat down to write about it. 

And now, as I am trying to conclude this post, I am repeatedly deleting words because there are tears in my eyes. Because after days, I did good today. 

Don't ask her what makes her happy

Don't ask her what makes her happy.

Wander after her soulful eyes and feel what she longs for instead. 

You'll find her watching butterflies flutter by, and you'll feel her wanting to let go off her duty-bound feet. You'll see her hands linger over old photos, and you might feel her need to go back to girlhood again. 

When you see her lost in thoughts as the curry simmers in the melancholic kitchen, know for sure that she has time-travelled to her Grandma's kitchen where both food and memories were made. 

When you notice her taking longer to fold the little ones' clothes, take a moment to watch her feel the fabric and remember herself as daddy's little girl. 

When she walks past the golawala in the market, you should know how she loved the kala khatta with extra masala, and how the aroma of fresh herbs made her happy. 

If you happen to find your woman peeping out every now and then through the windows of your EMIed home, let her become the girl she misses terribly. 

Because monthly instalments suck the life out of the Adult You. 

But once in a while, your childhood peeps in through the doors you didn't know were still open. 

This, is life. Everything else is monthly payments🙂. Easy come. Easy go. 

Live. Love. Laugh. 

The one where I lost my dad and couldn’t grieve

Today, when I was in Shirshashana after my workout, the image of my father lying lifeless on the bed on the day he died began flashing in my mind. This is not the first time I’ve lived the moment. But experiencing the exact thing that you want to move on from during your dedicated hour makes all the effort to heal kind of pointless, doesn’t it? 

My father was a perfectly healthy man until he got cancer in late 2019 at the age of 78. Bummer. He was a very cooperative patient during the chemo and radiation treatments. He kicked cancer’s ass the first time around. He stood strong when a PEG tube was inserted surgically to help him with nutrition. He was okay with not being able to even drink a drop of water because of oesophageal carcinoma. He waited patiently for the cancer to go away. And it did. 31 days of radiation treatment, 5 chemos, and a surgery to introduce an alternate feeding method later, my father ate his first solid meal in mid-April 2020, after almost six months of tube feeding. Then again in June 2020, he almost choked on lunch on his birthday. We got an endoscopy done fearing that the cancer was back. But there was no cancer, but a lot of fibrosis because of radiation resulting in the narrowing of the tract. We were going to get the oesophageal tract dilated as suggested by the gastroenterologist, but papa’s cataract needed urgent surgery. Between August-October 2020, I got both cataracts removed. But he looked weaker and said he had pain in the abdominal area combined with feeling sleepy and tired. Covid was wreaking havoc, so taking him to the hospital was not suggested by the oncologist. But at the end of October, we rushed him to the hospital because he was writhing in pain, and urgent scans and ultrasounds told us that the cancer was back. This time, metastatic, in the liver, brain, and oesophageal tract. I was standing there, alone in front of his doctor, a very kind human being, not knowing what to do. The doctor said chemo could buy him 2 years but not cure him because the disease was metastatic. I understood. Considering his age, it was a blessing. I told him what the reports said. He asked me what to do. We immediately started brain radiation because there were chances he would be paralysed. He got weaker and disoriented because of the brain mets. We started chemo for the liver mets. Had to admit him frequently because of fever. But just after 2 chemo sessions, his liver mets had drastically shrunk. However, the brain radiation failed. The stupid brain mets didn’t budge even a bit. The doctor suggested supportive care and that he wouldn’t live beyond 6 weeks. My father breathed his last late January 2021, 3 days after telling  me that he felt well and that the abdominal pain was gone. He said he felt the treatment is working. Two days before deteriorating, when we made him get up and sit on the bed, he supported his own upper body all by himself, a major step after being affected by brain radiation. He also talked to me and my husband and cracked some jokes. We both knew he was going to die, but I wanted at least those 6 weeks with him. But he died within a week of the doctor’s prognosis. 

On the day he died, I was the one who checked his pulse on the oximeter. I was the one who placed my hand on his chest and felt nothing. I was the one who saw him motionless on his bed, perhaps finally at peace, and pain-free. I was the one who walked to the neighbour to ask for a doctor’s visit to declare him dead. I was the one who made arrangements with my husband to get a GP home on a Sunday. I was the one who held my brother and mother tightly as they cried. I was the one who talked to the neighbours about how to do the funeral. I was the one who went back and forth to my place next door to get Papa’s clothes. I was the one who consoled my mother in law when she broke down looking at my dad’s lifeless body. I was the one who sat beside him alone, holding his clammy, lifeless hand, one last time, in the middle of messing the arrangements. 

I was the one who was not consoled by my mother on losing a father. I was the one who was not hugged by my brother on losing our Papa. I was the one who hugged my husband tightly when he broke down while picking papa’s final attire from our cupboard. I was the one who was not asked by many of my loved ones about how I was doing. 

I was the one who lost my dad, but didn’t get to grieve.

Hold no regret

One of the worst feelings in life is regret. It drags you back into nothingness. It pushes you into your unalterable past and forces your emotions to fiddle with things done and dusted. The world of regret is full of illusions eating up your today and holding you from moving on. The more emotions you feed to regret, the more it devours your present. If you spend your today regretting your yesterday, you will surely spend your tomorrow regretting your today.

 Yet, so many of us spend most of our lives regretting about the decisions we have taken in the past. I haven’t met one person who meant it when he said “I regret nothing.” I myself regret many things in life. I may be writing now that regret is bad, but I still hold on to my regrets. They search for me creepily when I am alone. They find their way through my tears and gnaw at my heart. My regrets make my soul scream at me for not having let things happen the way they should have. That is the worst thing; your soul screaming at you. I consider the soul as the calmest part of a living being. It screaming is a grave sin you commit. Because a screaming soul is no longer divine. It becomes nothing but a slave of human emotions. Emotions are hard to tame. Our soul, I believe, is the only being detached from the world. But as a slave of human emotions, it is the worst animal to tame.  

We all struggle to tame this animal. We try hard to place our soul back into the world of detachment. We have all had those days when our outside is calm but the inside is at war with itself. People can seldom see through our calm outside. For most of them, how we appear on the outside is the only thing that matters, because perhaps how they see us is how they wanted us to be. Perhaps they themselves are reflections of how someone else wanted them to be. These people will never ask you what you want, or how you feel. They will always look at you from a point of view that doesn't belong to them. They will love you when you accept their perception about yourself, and will go to any extent to emotionally scar you the moment you disapprove of their beliefs.  

It is nothing less than a miracle to find someone who can see through your calm outside. These are people who gather all the moments abandoned by you and peep into your soul.  They know what your heart abandoned is what it longs for the most. They can hear your inner screams, and can see your soul ripping apart as it fights with itself.

If you have such a someone in your life, let their eyes travel deep down inside you. Let those eyes lighten the darkest corners of your soul. These eyes do not see you as reflections of someone else, but will touch your soul and gently place it back to where it belongs. These eyes will always carry a smile that has power to heal your scars. These eyes do not have borrowed perceptions, and belong to people who will never regret you. You will always find a little of yourself in them.

If you find such a someone, never let anything make you regret it, because you seldom meet yourself in someone else.

Short Story - Being right or wrong

The other day I was wondering who decides what or who is right or wrong.  I think rightness and wrongness are just illusions.

Rebecca had been recently asked by her neighbors to leave her apartment because she had apparently moved in with her partner, an already married man. She was called a house-breaker and a mean woman who could not see another woman happy. The man in question, Steve, was married for the past three years to Anne.

Three years ago, Steve was urgently called back home from UK, where he had been working for 8 years as an investment banker. His father, John, was terminally ill and would die any moment. He was a rich businessman, with acres of land and a lot of money. On his deathbed, John held Steve’s hand and called Anne, his friend’s daughter.  Putting her hand in his, he said, “Please fulfill this last wish, son. Marry her.” Steve looked at Anne. She gently smiled at him.

A couple of hours later, Steve’s father passed away. The funeral took place in the same week. Two weeks after the funeral, Steve and Anne were married in a simple ceremony, where only family and close friends were invited. Shortly after the wedding, Steve went to UK to resign from his job. He did not want to leave his mother alone after dad’s demise. In 15 days, he completed all the exit formalities and came back home.

Steve and Anne went to Greece for their honeymoon, as insisted by his mother.  Both of them had been busy after John’s death with the legal formalities of his will and property. Anne had been looking after Steve’s mom and persuading her to eat, talk, and sleep to move on.  A month after her husband’s death, Steve’s mother was looking better. She had started talking about her husband without getting emotional and had volunteered to visit the workplaces once a week to manage from where her husband had left.

It was impossible to understand why Steve and Anne had decided to part ways. Family members who had seen them together were eagerly waiting for their child to be born, as the big business empire needed an heir.  Anne and Steve looked good together.  One could often see them lost in conversation in the garden or the library. They left for work together in the morning and returned home together too, much to the pleasure of Steve’s mother. Occasionally, they would go out for dinners or to watch a play. On some weekends, they would stay at their farmhouse, sometimes, taking mom along.

But one fine day, Steve and Anne went to mom’s room and announced about their separation. Surprisingly, she said nothing. They filed for divorce soon.  When family members asked for explanation, Ms. John calmed them down saying that it was their life and their decision.

A month after filing for divorce, Anne moved back to her parents’ place. Soon after, she left abroad for her further studies. Steve moved in with Rebecca. After the initial gossip about them, they were left to themselves by the bothering neighbors. Occasionally, Steve’s mom would visit them. They would have a good time together; going out for a city tour, eating, and visiting interesting places in the town.

One day, Rebecca bought home a guest. It was a Saturday and she had gone out for grocery shopping while Steve caught some sleep after a late night with clients at work. Rebecca used her keys to open the door as Steve was still asleep. She asked her guest to be comfortable while she made some tea. The two were chatting away while Rebecca made tea. Steve woke up to the chatter.

As Rebecca and her guest were sipping tea, Steve came out wondering who the other person was.  

“Hi, Steve, did we wake you up?” asked the stranger.

Steve stood stunned for a moment, but then immediately hugged the stranger. It was Anne.  He had forgotten that she was supposed to come to stay over at their place before catching her flight for home.   Anne had returned from Australia where she had gone to complete her abandoned course.

Anne stayed with them the whole day before they went to the airport for her early morning flight back home. 

“Keep in touch, Anne.” Said Steve, as he hugged Anne while Rebecca smiled, looking at them.

Steve and Rebecca returned to their car after seeing Anne off.

 As Steve reversed his car from the parking lot, he smiled into oblivion.

“What is it?” asked Rebecca.

“If you were in Anne’s place, would you do what she did?” asked Steve.

“I don’t know, Steve, I really don’t know. But I wish I could do what she did.”

They smiled at each other and drove away.

Just before their wedding, Steve told Anne about his six year old relationship with Rebecca. They both worked in the same bank, he told her.  He did not want to betray Rebecca, who knew about his father’s last wish, and had asked him to go ahead and marry Anne.  Not even once, had Rebecca questioned Steve’s actions from his urgent visit home to his resignation.

Anne then told Steve about the real reason behind their marriage. His father was in a huge debt.  Her father had promised to help Steve’s father if their children got married. If Steve refused to marry Anne, he would lose even the house they were living in, leave alone the business and the land.

So they decided to get married for the world. Good friends that they always were, Anne always painted a pretty picture of their fake marriage. Meanwhile, Steve started making changes to his father’s conventional business strategies and took a few risks. In two years, the business was virtually free of debt. He did not need Anne’s father’s help.  By the third year, the business opened its doors to foreign nations, and surpassed Anne’s father’s company in profits. Everything looked better than before.

“It’s time now, Steve. We must tell mom,” said Anne, as she looked at the newspaper, reading about the profits Steve’s new business was making.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew all this?” asked his mother.

“It wouldn’t matter, mom. Dad had made his decision. He wanted me to listen to him for you. I only did what he wanted. But now, I want you to let me do justice to Rebecca. She has never asked me any questions all this while.”

“If you two have already planned, I will not stop you. But you must be sure not to be unfair to Anne in an attempt to be good to Rebecca.”

“This is what she planned, mom.” Steve said, looking at Anne.

Mom looked at Anne in astonishment. She came to know that Anne had planned how Steve would recover his father’s business and make it independent from her father’s support. According to her, if the business started flourishing on its own, her father wouldn’t cause problems in their separation. To her father, she asked him not to mess with her life any further, saying that business collaborations don’t always work at personal levels. After filing for divorce, she resumed her studies that he had forced her to quit for getting her married.

For the world, it was a god-made alliance broken when Anne and Steve divorced. But for Anne, it was the union of two people in love. She never existed as an entity in all this ever. As Steve had promised his dying father, so had Anne promised him too, to help Steve. And that is what she exactly did.

Meeting yourself

One of my friends was kind enough to take time out from her crazy schedule and read my blog post When death comes.... After she read my post, we spoke over chat where she told me that she relates with my post. A mother of a one year old boy, my friend said that ever since motherhood began, she sleeps for just 2-3 hours every night. Being a working woman, her son wants mommie to be by his side once she returns home. Not to mention the suckling and cuddling throughout the night that makes him feel secure.

After talking to her, I was happy that someone understood what it is to live a life for yourself. She said she often wonders what is her purpose on this planet.  She said she doesn’t even remember the time when she was single, after marriage and now the motherhood. I somewhat understand what she means, because even after I got married, I hardly found time and space for myself.  But about my purpose on this planet, I always feel that I must be probably serving some purpose that I can’t see ;-)! Or that whatever I am doing must be doing something good to someone on this planet. Height of self-optimism…I know.

One of my old friends who read my post asked me to chill and write more often. It was clearly evident through her comment on my post that she is quite happy with life, as compared to my friend about whom I spoke in the beginning of this post. Now this old friend, I know, has been facing turbulent times for the past 7-8 years. Love, betrayal, in-laws trouble, family crisis; you name it and she has sailed through these rough adventures. Probably this is the reason why she feels that her parents, husband, office, siblings, her dreams, and her books are some of the best things she has in life. Because she had almost lost everything at a point in life but has now found everything back. She actually told me that even if she died she would be happy. Probably she has learnt to let go quite early in life. Probably she is not worried about how her kid will live without her. Probably if it has to happen, God has already marked out a way for her.

My conversation with these two women made me realize that I am an individualist by nature. I always yearn for something that would satiate my inner self.

Because your job, relationships, and possessions, are temporary; here today, but gone tomorrow. 

You sedate your inner yearnings heavily to meet those annoying deadlines at work. You sacrifice your precious weekends to meet your parents and relatives to make them happy. You traumatize yourself while drooling over those beautiful wares you see on display. 

You meet your deadlines but lose out on your time with your loved ones. You meet your parents and relatives but feel mentally tired. You shop your heart out but after looking at the bill you are worried about how to manage the next month’s budget. Then you manage to find part-time work and make your loved ones wait a little longer.

Each one of us is caught in this vicious circle. We somehow learn to make tasks a part of our life. The “I” is always kept on hold. There is work, husband, parents, kids, to be taken care of. And we learn to feel content when our company meets its target, when our husband does well at work, and when our parents are happy to receive our attention. We feel happy to see our kids successful. But one day, we are replaced by a better person at work. Relatives start taking us for granted. Big deal, they feel, because we are always there for them. Partners treat us a convenience rather than a live entity. Kids grow up and start telling us that we are invading their personal space.

So, my question is, do we really, in the true sense, “have” our parents, husband, kids, and office? Don’t they actually keep us for their convenience? Don’t we constantly change to suit their preferences? Work changes places. Parents get old and leave. Relatives stop communicating. Partners become strangers. Kids drift farther.

 Only “you” remain with yourself. 

And then, when you face yourself, you realize that the “you” in you has been spent on others. You sit and think about the things you failed to do. You wish you had not stopped taking that course. At least you could have some knowledge that would be yours. You also wish you had spent time with yourself. At least it would make you feel good about yourself. You actually regret not having taken your own responsibility.

When you realize that you should have taken your responsibility, your work, relatives, kids, etc. are too busy to attend you. Time stops for you. There is nothing that can fill the inner hollow. It is only how your treat yourself remains with you. Even when you return to dust, only your soul will accompany you there.

So, it is good to relate to the external things around you. But it is important to satiate your inner soul and to meet yourself once in a day, or at least, once before you return to dust….   

When death comes....

JK Rowling says, “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”

Since childhood, my routine has always been more or less planned, since both my parents used to work. Getting up at the same time everyday and sparing a fixed number of minutes for brushing, pooping, bathing, and having breakfast; these were things that I grew up seeing and doing. When I started working, which was almost six years ago, my mornings were full of such tight deadlines. Even a five-minute delay in waking up would make my mornings a running spree from my home till the railway station. Mumbai railways made me realize the importance of odd timings such as 7:38 am and 5:01 pm, as I would commute in trains that would come to the station at these weird timings.

Back at work, I realized the importance of every minute when I ran to swipe my ID card just before the clock struck 9 in the mornings. Even a minute’s delay would mean we were late for our shift, and it would reflect in our appraisals. At work, taking a couple of minutes more than what was allotted for sending an email would automatically delay the next deadline. I learnt to manage every second of my life while working with my first long term employer. In fact, at a point, I was managed by the clock. I used to feel guilty for sleeping for those extra 10 minutes or spending 5 minutes extra while getting ready or having breakfast.

With my current employer, life was governed by early morning alarms and marathon runs to the auto stand for a seat till the station. Again, if I reached just before my train arrived, I would get no place to sit in the train. So ideally, I would reach the station much before time. For the past 8 years, I have lived most of my life outside my home, travelling for at least 4 hours daily on an average.

So, I have a planned life, yes. At work, all my tasks for the day are documented in my diary and Inbox. Colored pens regularly highlight the tasks as and when they are done. Pending tasks are flagged or shifted to the next day. On the home front, I plan buying groceries on Sundays. My maid is carefully instructed on what to cook and clean without wasting either of our time. She gets veggies for me the day I cannot buy them. Laundry, mopping, sweeping, and everything else happens as per plans that I make.  

I am proud of the life that I lead. It is disciplined and well-spaced out. But today when I read the quote above, I was wondering if my daily schedule has a slot for death. In that case, how many of us account for this one incident? One of my friends always says, “I have no regrets if I die tomorrow. I have seen it all and done with everything.” I wish I could say the same about myself.

Apart from the planned activities, there is noting that I do in life. I have forgotten when was the last time I did something that I like. Sometimes, I can’t remember what I like. The "work-office-work" syndrome has effaced other things from my life. At some point in life, I would spend weekends reading and adorning my dupattas with beads and sequins. I would read many anthologies and copy interesting stuff for personal record. I would maintain a dairy. I would listen to music.

After getting into a relationship and consequently getting married, all my spare time is spent in cooking, cleaning, and buying monthly groceries. The rest of the time is spent with my spouse, where we discuss the things that we like to do and the dreams that are yet unaccomplished. We make plans to achieve our unattained goals. At every new discussion and dream planning, new dreams pile on the older ones. We have this mountain of dreams in front of us. And we are sure that one day we will accomplish it all.

Ms. Rowling today made me wonder if I am ready for what she calls “next great adventure.” I then realized that my "well-organized mind" has never accommodated the period to my life. If I die now, I will have a zillion things pending. Further education, quilling, photography, learning dance, learning to ride a bike, starting my own business, buying a house, starting a family, having a pet, going on a holiday.....

...The list goes on and on. And freaks me out. What the hell have I done in the last 30 years? Just wake up to the alarm and auto-pilot myself? Hell Yeah. I am sure if I die now, I am going to a perfect subject for Ram Gopal Verma’s next horror movie. I will keep appearing in front of people whom I haven’t  met for long. I will keep scaring people at places where I wanted to go or at universities where I wanted to study. I will keep clinging to things that I loved, but never enjoyed. I will, in short, never be free from worldly pleasures.

Despite such an enlightening revelation, I don’t find myself panicking to make a new beginning. My mind tells me, “JK Rowling is rich and famous. She probably does not have to buy groceries or supervise the maid. So stop dreaming about what will happen to your unaccomplished tasks if you die now. If you have not added “death” to your list of tasks, then it is definitely not happening till you add it.”

Point noted Mr. Mind! :)