How to get to your Beyonce – 1

I came across the above picture here, and it spoke to me. Now I’m no fan of Beyonce and I actually liked Destiny’s Child back then. But it kind of puts my life in perspective. I’ve had my lows and highs, and I’m sure it’s nothing compared to the struggles that millions of people endure every day. Yet, it has left a mark on me; it’s part of who I am, and who I want to be. It has also made me more self-aware and conscious of my moods, thoughts and feelings – what makes me happy, sad, angry, upset, excited, irritable, and so on. So here are a bunch of fresh insights that I have gathered over the last few weeks.

Social media:

I’d be lying if I said that people’s behaviour on social media does not affect me. Every time I see a new album full of air-brushed images of a place they’ve been to (it’s practically their backyard, for all you know), with long pretentious write-ups and unimaginative captions thrown around, I burn deep inside. But today, my friend’s mom had a refreshing take on this, and I’m sharing her message here:

“Among the many excellent uses of Facebook, I wonder if anyone has considered the ‘bhavsagar taran’ aspect. I think FB has the potential of liberating us from the relentless cycle of death and rebirth by letting us also live the lives of so many of our friends doing wonderful stuff. Why should I hanker to travel here, climb there, eat this or that, see wondrous sights when it is all being done and described for me? I feel most gratified by the daily celebration of life as found on FB, and feel relieved to tick one more item off my wish list…because I know how it feels, now. Thanks, friends, for sharing your moments and making life replete and whole. I hope we are all assisting each other in the process of achieving liberation from earthly desires.”

And she was not being sarcastic. This is the kind of positivity she exudes. So here’s the deal: when people share their happy moments on Facebook, they are (most of them at least) not trying to mock your life or show off their awesomeness. I believe that it has to do with a natural human tendency to share happiness and good news. It strengthens relationships and brings people closer. It’s not about you. So, let them post their vacation pictures in peace.

Saying ‘yes’ and saying ‘no’

I’m one of those people who can’t say No. If a friend wants to meet or if someone asks me a favour, I usually hesitate a bit, if I don’t want to do it, but eventually convince myself that I have to do it. Just because I can and I should. Also because they asked, and you’ll hurt their feelings if you said No.

Today, I think I may have stood up a friend who demanded I meet him for lunch. I had no intention of going and I politely told him I have work. But he insisted, so I said I’ll try. And then I ignored his calls. Which is something I usually don’t do, but in this case, I had to resort to the extreme step of ignoring his calls. And the thing is, I do not feel guilty at all. Simply because this has happened way too many times, and every single time, I have said Yes when I should have said No, and later regretted it. So I’m relaxed now; it’s okay if I may have unintentionally burnt a bridge. I never needed to get to the other side anyway.

I have also had difficulty saying Yes to many things. Like, a new adventure, a new hobby, a new assignment, a fun party with people I do not know, a bowl of salad, an extra round of cardio. Why? Because I wasn’t confident enough to pull these things off. I thought people would find me boring, or I would suck at a new hobby or assignment, or I’d be too scared to take up a new adventure. But surprisingly, I have been proven wrong on all the above instances.

I went zip-lining and hot air ballooning in Rajasthan and loved the adrenaline rush – I’m now looking forward to going white water rafting in the Ganges. I tried my hand at painting a mug recently and realised I wasn’t bad. I thought I’d be terrible at cooking but I’m a proud, confident amateur home cook now, and I’m at this stage in life where baking has become a favourite hobby. I thought I did not have it in me to do magazine-style travel writing but it’s one of the many things I’m doing these days to make a living, and editors have appreciated my writing style and ideas. And it’s only because I took a chance with people that I found M, the absolute love of my life, and it’s also how I made new friends in this new city, which has been my home now for over a year. Random plans and parties. Open bar. Open mind.

So, I’m getting to a point where I kind of know when to say Yes and when to say No, and I use it at every opportunity. Takes a big load off your chest, trust me.

People are just like you and me

I don’t mean that in a homogenising way; of course, each of us has our own individuality. But fundamentally, most people fear the same things you do. Scared of flying? So are millions of people, most of whom are frequent flyers. Have a weird fetish? There are possibly plenty of others who have their own quirks, and are as uncomfortable about it as you are. Worried about coming across as a bore at a party where you don’t know half the people? You are not alone. It’s probably how everyone else is feeling too; they probably don’t know half the people at the party, they don’t know what they’re doing there or how to approach a stranger, what to talk about. Yet, we all try. We make an effort. And we fail. We also discover amazing people, create great opportunities and enrich our lives, in the process. We are all novices at this game.

Most people also like the same things you do. Enjoy travelling? Scores of people would be genuinely interested in your stories. Like music? Great! You’ll have plenty of music-filled evenings to look forward to. It’s not all that difficult to interact with people once you find commonalities. It builds empathy, and it is key to building relationships that last.

It also makes you feel like an equal, because you don’t have to feel inferior to someone else just because they have a better lifestyle or a successful career. You’ll never know what their problems and struggles are; you’ll never know what they lost to get to where they are. They are perhaps lonely, or have a huge debt. So instead of judging people and having preconceived notions about them, approach them with genuine interest and curiosity; you’ll be surprised at how well they respond to you, and how relieved and happy they will feel that you chose to initiate a conversation with them. This is, of course, going to make you feel happier and more confident too. Treat every situation as if it were net practice, It’s okay if you screw it up. Everyone has good days and bad days.

And it’s okay if they don’t share your interest or your views. One of my learnings, ever since I left college, has been that you don’t even have to be on the same wavelength as your friend. And no, you don’t have to be ardent GOT fans either, or bond over your love for Hugh Jackman’s abs. After a point in life, to make genuine, lasting friendships, you simply need empathy and an open mind. Most importantly, you need to love yourself. More on that later.

This is turning out to be a super long post. You know what that means right? Yeah, Part-2 coming your way soon, whether you like it or not.

Scent

I’m turning into this person who seeks comfort in the smell of freshly cleaned clothes, the heady mix of Genteel liquid detergent (it’s cheaper than Surf Excel), and the subtle hint of Comfort washing conditioner. Lemongrass room sprays. The super fragrant floor cleaner we pick up from Big Bazaar (it usually comes in a pack of three). The aroma of warm butter-toasted bread. The splutter of mustard seeds-jeera-chilly-ginger-garlic-asafoetida-curry leaves in oil. The crackle of roasting garlic; the soothing fragrance of basil simmering in boiling water. The smell of freshly brewed filter coffee. The smell of pages of books I’ll never read. The intoxicating air of cigarettes, whisky, coffee, perfume and finger food that lingers in my living room the morning after a party. Peppermint mouthwash. The way the bathroom feels after a nice long bath with Hamam soap. Or Bath And Body Works body wash. And shampoo. Aftershave. M’s perfume (A & B Fierce). The cozy and familiar stuffiness in M’s car with a strong tinge of Silly Citrus air purifier, when the air conditioner is on. The way a fancy salon smells of fancy hair and skin products I have no intention of buying. Hotel lobbies. Shopping malls. Every time I cross Cookieman. Coffee shops. Madras mornings. The smell of winter in Delhi; of Saptaparni trees in full bloom.Talcum powder. Coffee beans being ground in Leo Coffee, Mylapore. The earthy smell that wafts past when I water the plants in my balcony. The lemony whiff of Prill liquid when I wash utensils. Lifebuoy handwash (the blue one). Parachute coconut hair oil. Scent of the sea. Clothes from my previous evening soaked in sweat, grime and Davidoff perfume. The warm and fuzzy aroma of something baking in the oven. Fresh coriander. The comforting drone of the ceiling fan. A barely-there hint of Good Knight mosquito repellent. Camphor. Vaseline body lotion. Dusty shelves. Closed rooms. Old clothes preserved with naphthalene balls. Crumbling photo books. Forgotten letters and greeting cards. The scent of nostalgia.

Don’t look back in anger

I am quite angsty. If you’ve been reading my blogs, you’ll know that I tend to get somewhat annoyed with people in general. But if you meet me in person, I’m not all that angsty. I can be surprisingly pleasant and friendly, even funny. Because that’s how I am as a person. It’s only when I sit and think of things I hate and worry about, that all my negative emotions surface. It’s weird that I actually set apart time to obsess over things I hate.

I was talking to my friend (after a long time) last night and we were both excited about how much we have in common. Sadly, it turned out they were not exactly happy, positive things. For instance, we’d both had rough journeys right from childhood, had gone through depression and had overcome some pretty difficult times. Which we realised made us stronger, but unfortunately very bitter too.

We spoke about how we are bitter that people we know and love (like our close friends) have it so easy in life. It’s not fair that people have fancy beach weddings, supportive families and shitloads of money, when we had to work our asses off and risk everything to get what we wanted. It’s not fair that they get to travel the world and do anything they want, when we were never allowed to do any of that and even if we wanted to, it would have involved way too much unnecessary family drama; and besides, we were too busy dealing with much bigger issues and even thinking of something as luxurious as a solo trip or a night out was out of the question. So, while we are happy for the people we love, it’s difficult not to compare our journeys with theirs, and be a bit jealous too, in the process.

Does that make us terrible people? Are we being smug and snobbish? I don’t know, because I’d like to believe that deep down, we are nice people. We are fun, and we love our friends. Also, we feel terrible about ourselves for being so bitter, although we are not rude or hurtful when we speak to these people. Do we just embrace this quirk and live with it the rest of our lives, or should we change our attitude and work at being less angsty and hence, happier?

Of course, the latter, because don’t we all want to be positive and happy? So, here’s a thing I read somewhere. I’ve started applying it in my everyday routine and with time, I’m sure it will help. It involves writing down at least three positive things that happened during the day that you are thankful for. I’ve been doing it every night before going to bed, since last week. I’m hoping that I will soon be able to appreciate and respect everyone’s journey and feel genuinely happy for them without any tinge of bitterness. At least, that’s the aim.

Also, this little exercise helps people like me who are always seeing the worst in every situation. It forces you to focus on positive happy things, thereby shielding negative emotions. So instead of obsessing over things you hate, you can now start obsessing over things you love. And delight in small victories, so you don’t feel the need for someone else to appreciate you all the time.

In other news, my favourite band Alt-J is coming to Delhi next month and I’m super excited. Hence, Alt-J playlist on loop all of today, here and here

Let’s talk about depression

I have been treating my blog like my private diary. Yes, I do realise that; and I’m glad that all this blogging has been therapeutic in a sense. It’s always nice to share a bit of your life with the world ( read: 5 strangers who skim through my blog) and at the same time, not worry about writing a great copy or a gripping lede.

I’m thinking about depression today, because it’s suddenly in the spotlight. Deepika Padukone, the Indian actress, spoke about it in a show; the Germanwings co-pilot was supposedly going through depression; someone my sister knew killed himself because he was depressed. It’s almost an epidemic now. And it is by all means a disease that must be addressed just like say, cancer. Yet, thanks to the stigma associated with this condition, in India at least, there is hardly any support system in place for people going through depression.

Another reason why this resonates with me is that I spent the best years of my life feeling depressed, lonely and suicidal. What made it a nightmare was the fact that I had zero support. My family was least bothered – in fact, it annoyed the hell out of them and they’d keep asking me to snap out of it. Which is ridiculous. With my friends, and at college and later at work, I would try to be as normal as possible, pretend that everything was cool. I’d even make jokes about my situation just in case they thought I was not okay.

I remember feeling powerless, hopeless, bitter, cynical but I never let it affect my work. Instead, the office became my refuge; immersing myself in work was my way of shielding suicidal thoughts. It also helped that I loved my job, and was having fun with my colleagues and friends. I was trying to distract myself constantly and I have had terrible breakdowns on many occasions and spent nights wide awake, crying and struggling to sleep.

I was afraid that I’d be ostracised if I was vocal about my depression. What if my friends stopped talking to me? What if I lost my job? So I did what my family trained me to do over the years – keep your thoughts to yourself, suppress your emotions and always, smile, be nice. Because we don’t want your neighbours or your relatives talking about you in a bad way, right? Abs0frikkinlutely. Can’t argue with that now, can we.

Anyway, for the next four years, I put my bravest face on. It was a facade, but I had to do that to survive and stop myself from becoming a complete wreck. There were days when I’d just go to the terrace of my apartment and wonder what’d it be like to jump; or walk really further into the sea in the hope that the waves would eventually take me.

But thankfully, better sense prevailed. I went to a psychologist on the sly because my parents were against the idea of me visiting a ‘pythiakara (mental) doctor’. I had a couple of sessions, and though it did not change my life, it made me believe that I’m a normal person and not a weirdo like my family thought I was. I got my family to meet the pyschologist later, and there was some drama what with the subject being my then boyfriend (M, whom I’m now married to) of more than four years whom my folks were refusing to meet, for whatever reason.

Things did work out eventually. Not because my parents changed their mind – they never did, and I doubt they are 100% okay with it now – but because I made a conscious choice to leave behind all that trauma and start a new life with the one person who was there for me, every single time.

Even then, my depression did not just vanish magically. After moving in with M too, there were days when I’d wake up crying, or break down in the middle of a conversation. I was trying my best to deal with my past, and failing, many times. It took months of resolve to consciously feel positive or at least fake it till it became a habit. It took months of reading articles and books on positivity and happiness, and trying to incorporate some of the practical aspects of it into my everyday life. It took tremendous amount of perseverance and effort to wake up every morning and be grateful for my life, for my struggles, for my past. And focus on myself, on M, on the two of us together.

It was definitely not easy, because depression doesn’t just cure itself. It doesn’t heal with time. And it wasn’t easy to forget all that I’d been through. It wasn’t easy to forgive my parents. I guess, I have come to accept that things couldn’t have been any different – my parents were like that and nothing can change them; I cannot rewrite what already happened. We never spoke about it and I don’t know if we ever will – whenever I made an attempt to discuss my problem, it led to heated arguments and I ended up feeling much worse. But we have sorted out our differences to some extent now and despite the fact that my parents and I were in a bad space then, on hindsight, we loved each other and did not want to see each other be sad.

In a sense, I’m grateful for it now, because it restored my belief in my own self – it gave me the confidence and the resolve to do something I really believed in. But most importantly, the fact that I was in a positive environment with an amazing guy who loved me unconditionally, helped me get over my depression. It was such a refreshing and liberating change in comparison to the environment I was used to until then.

Some people tell me I’m lucky that it worked out, that M was trustworthy, unlike their boyfriends. But no. I was unlucky as shit with life. I just happened to choose well, unlike them. And fight for what I believed in, when the easier option was to chicken out. And luck had very little role to play in it. A lot of my friends are super lucky in that they have extremely supportive families who let them do anything they want – what a privilege that is. I really wish I had that, because it would have made my life so much easier and happier.

A friend of mine is now going through depression. And though we are far away in different countries, I’m trying to be there for her. Thankfully, unlike me, she is vocal about her problem, she has identified it, and she is being treated for it medically. I’m sure she’ll be okay. Because the takeaway from my experience is that, love is the answer. I usually don’t say such things, but honestly, without love, freedom and strength, I wouldn’t have been able to tide over my bad times. And I can’t tell you how incredibly grateful I am for being able to write about all this now without breaking down or losing control of my emotions.

Pet peeves -2: Humblebragging

There’s a new crop of people I have been coming across of late. I couldn’t quite explain their type articulately until Urbandictionary came to my rescue with the genius term ‘humblebrag’ which, in my opinion, best describes this species. Here’s Urbandictionary nailing it:

Subtly letting others now about how fantastic your life is while undercutting it with a bit of self-effacing humor or “woe is me” gloss.

“Uggggh just ate about fifteen piece of chocolate gotta learn to control myself when flying first class or they’ll cancel my modelling contract LOL :p #humblebrag”

Well, the above example is just a mild case of humblebragging. And as you might have guessed, there are various degrees, depending on your tolerance levels. And my tolerance for fake, pretentious people has hit an all-time low. Which is one of the perks of growing up, I guess.

But I must admit that when some of my friends ‘humblebrag’ on social media and outside of it, I often wonder if I must call their bluff or just let them be. Like this girl who just wouldn’t stop talking about how incredibly busy she is, now that she has a new job and ends every phone call with, oh I have to go for a party now. Or some of my single friends who complain that every guy who talks to them is hitting on them. Or this girl I know who serves average food at parties and gracefully accepts compliments on her cooking skills that come her way, even when the food is clearly not worthy of praise. Okay, I’m majorly nitpicking now, but you get the drift right?

What baffles me is that these ‘humblebraggers’ get appreciated by people more often than people like me who are actually good at stuff (yeah, I’m not humble by any stretch of imagination). Maybe it’s a case of you-scratch-my-back-I-scratch-yours. I don’t like this phenomenon, and I do not wish to participate in any backscratching exercises. Because I am a doer. No, honestly. I mean it in a very matter-of-fact way, as someone who knows myself really well.

I believe in letting my work do the talking. I’d rather bake you an amazing brownie than talk about how great I’m at cooking. I don’t go around publicising my work (or even my blog posts) on social media for the same reason. See, if you are good at your work and other things, it shows. People will recognise it, and appreciate you where it matters. It shows that they trust you and your abilities; that they respect you as a person.

They are aware that you know your shit and you’re not full of shit. Sorry, couldn’t resist it. So you owe it to yourself to churn out work of more epic awesomeness every single time. That’s the kind of brand I want to build for myself – someone who’s great at whatever she does, someone who is reliable and hands-on. I want to be known as someone who gets work done, not someone who simply talks about how cool she is. And I’m proud of myself for getting by without ‘humblebragging’ and ‘backscratching’. Ah, sometimes it frustrates me to no end that I almost want to shake these humblebraggers in my life and tell them: ‘You know what, you suck. You are flattering yourself, you poor delusional soul.’ But I try to be civil and more socially appropriate.

I wonder why we are stuck up on praise, sympathy, compliments? Are we doing things to please people and hence, gain their appreciation or are we doing it for ourselves, irrespective of whether we are noticed or not? That’s another internal conflict. On one hand, I don’t want to brag about my work and skills; but I also want people to notice me and compliment me. But they’ll never know I’m good at something until I publicise it, which contradicts my first point. You see the problem there? Clarity, I need clarity.

In other news, I almost ran into a pole while on my evening walk today, because I was staring at an airplane in the sky, trying to figure out which airline it belongs to. I catch myself staring at people on the road randomly. I’m constantly knocking over furniture and dropping things – mostly my phone. I am worried for myself. I checked the most reliable source in the world – Google – and realised that I have probably had Huntington’s disease all my life. Or even dyspraxia. Also I took a Buzzfeed quiz which confirmed that I have OCD. Well, turning 30 is clearly not going to be a breeze for yours truly.