A friend of mine shared a pic of the two of us from almost ten years ago. It was taken at another dear friend’s beach house just outside Madras and we’re both grinning like Cheshire cats. My hair looks unusually curly and teeth look gigantic in the pic, yet I’m smiling and we both seem relaxed in the way only two close friends can be when together. This set forth a wave of nostalgia and had me pining for the good old times – post work shenanigans at Zara, inside jokes and pop culture references at office, weekends with M, impromptu coffee sessions with friends, random house parties, beach house nights, fun concerts, and Madras, that beautiful seaside city which made it all possible.
But nostalgia can be tricky because it warps facts and sugar coats real life events from the past. Ten years ago, I was a complete mess. It took me a while to actually start talking to my own team mates at work. I was actually intimidated by all the seemingly cool, progressive people I went to college with. It was my first proper stint in a big city and while I’d always liked the idea of Madras as a small town girl, it was not exactly a piece of cake. I was going through trouble in the personal front right from 2008 – right after I made the rookie mistake of telling my mom that I was dating a guy and would like to marry him someday. I said it innocently enough within weeks or months of meeting M, but boy! Did my folks throw a fit. It assumed violent, disturbing and traumatic proportions in the years that followed and at 25, I was contemplating suicide. Like very seriously.
I was battling my own demons, struggling to sleep, struggling to wake up, eating too much, not eating at all, experiencing panic attacks, high blood pressure, extreme anxiety, and through it all, I envied my friends who had saner parents and normal lives wherein they did not go through a nervous breakdown when their folks called them to say hi on the phone. At work, I’d put on a facade, and joke about my situation but there have been times when I’ve broken down at office too. I did not, however, shut myself out; I did the opposite, so I was out a lot, because I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone with my thoughts or worse, with my mom, who decided to stay put with me in Madras and torture the fuck out of me every single day.
Ten years ago, the only thing that mattered to me was my career and my friends; M figured in it too I think, but only much later when family drama intensified. I was not invested in family at all, and I was sure I did not want kids, because my folks had scarred me enough and I did not want to pass it forward and screw up the genetic pool. I was ambitious and driven but never realised that I was very very depressed and anxious too. I was trying to piece myself together and just cross the bridge when I got there because thinking about my future and how I’d work things out would get me frazzled and wound up.
Cut to today, I’m married to M, mother to a delightful ten month old baby girl, I’ve come to value family more than anything else and I’m on a break from work ( something that was unimaginable even 3 years ago). Several bridges were built and compromises reached, a lot remains unresolved and I’m ok with that. You cannot really get complete closure and that’s all right as well. I choose my battles and let things go. I’m also a lot more self aware, I’m not as awkward with people, I cook pretty well and make excellent coffee. I’m more practical, more confident, stronger than earlier, more accepting of myself and other people and more acutely aware of my flaws; some of them I choose to work on, and some are simply an intangible part of who I am.
A picture can be deceptive and you’re free to interpret it any way you like. So while it seems like a happy pic, I’m honestly in a much better place now, emotionally and otherwise. I’m still smiling in the picture despite all the trouble I was having then, because I think somewhere deep down I knew things would be better. I was hopeful then just as I am, today, ten years and many battles and setbacks later. Some things don’t change.
Paperback writer 