1.) Focus on being present in the moment . This has been a recurrent theme in my blog of late too. Learning the art of doing this from 14-month-old D.
2.) Set apart time for fitness. Work out at home, resume yoga, meditate for a while, go for a walk. Was regular with this but been lethargic ever since I got home to be with parents.
3.) Read good books. And read more often.
4.) Listen to music. Surprised that this is on the list because this is the one thing I used to do all the time. Now, though, my phone’s always on mute but I do play music in the background when D is eating or playing. But it’s mostly devotional or classical music, thanks to my family. Maybe pick different kinds of music too, so D is exposed to more variety.
5.) Mindless social media surfing needs to stop. My fingers and wrist hurt after a point!
6.) Start driving your car. Enough with the excuses and the baseless fears.
7.) Wear sarees more often, and learn to drape with more finesse. On a similar note, wear good clothes, give away stuff you don’t wear. Been doing this in regular intervals but wardrobe optimisation is a life-long process.
8.) Focus on self care. Seriously. It’s about time. Treat yourself to a good hair cut or a pedicure every few months at least.
9.) Practice patience. Easier said than done especially for someone like me who’s most impatient. But, but, I’m already doing a lot better than the last few weeks ever since I felt myself spiralling out of control. Point number 1 , aka, mindfulness, has helped.
10.) Get on top of your finances. Pending PF withdrawals, invoices, investment status, mutual fund returns, SIPs… get them all sorted one by one.
11.) Pick your projects. I’ve been turning down out a lot of work that’s come my way these days because I realise it’s not important now. Maybe it’s a good idea to say an outright No rather than reeling under the pressure once you’ve agreed to take on said work and then opting out. I want to spend more time with D. She’s my number one. Work scene seems more manageable now.
12.) Ask for help. You can’t and don’t have to do everything yourself. I can count on family and friends to help with babycare and more or just talk.
13.) Stay in touch with friends. And get out more to meet them. Also don’t shy away from forging new friendships.
14.) Do things you love. Sing, bake, cook, paint, photograph, write, work, laugh, play with abandon, with passion and zero expectations. And don’t think about how you’ll be perceived or if you’re good or bad. Treat everything as an opportunity to learn. Try it without holding back. Without seeking validation.
15.) stay grateful and positive. You are in a god place.
Enough has been said about the death of human interactions, most of it on social media, ironically. It has been unanimously agreed that smartphones are the culprit. Yes, that little pocket-sized gadget which is aimed at bridging communication gaps has been accused of killing the art of conversation.
But who are we kidding? The problem is that we have become way too dependent on technology – especially our phones – that it’s impossible to function without it even for a day.
Thankfully, my childhood was not dominated by computers, internet or cable TV. Of course, we did get a cable connection on our Onida 21 television set, but that was only when I was in Class 8 or so. Prior to that, we had the most adorable funky little TV called Televista, one of those things that come with a tuning fork and a choice of 7-8 channels, and no remote control. We did not even need a remote control or the choice of channels because there was only one channel – Doordarshan (DD), and we had a VCR which was to be used only on rare occasions.
We replaced the picture tube twice, after it exploded; the buttons started falling and the fork was broken so we used a stick instead. It’s not like we couldn’t afford a new TV, but we just did not feel the need to buy a new one. Eventually, Televista couldn’t handle it anymore; she was choking and breathed her last after serving us for more than 10 long years.
We got a personal computer around the same time, say 1998, and all I did for the first few weeks was change the wallpaper. It was fascinating; later, we started playing CDs (mostly Sesame Street and Encyclopedia, because they came free with the computer) and copying stuff on floppy disks (remember them?). A year or two later, we got the internet, which helped me discover artistes such as Bon Jovi and Bryan Adams, considering we did not have MTV or Channel V around that time in my town. I also discovered chat rooms and online review platforms where I wrote quite a bit.
We’d still never heard of the mobile phone. What we did have was a cordless phone which you could take all around my house, but you venture a little outside the main door, around the gate or the garden, and the reception would be lost. I did not have my own room ever, so my only chance at some privacy was when I got to use the cordless phone; sadly, the same number was shared by another phone in our dining room, so my mom would sometimes sneakily listen to my telephonic conversations. Yeah, not creepy at all.
When I went to college in 2003, my dad gave me this giant brick of a Nokia phone – a mobile phone, apparently – which his friend had gifted him. I was asked switch off the phone and lock it up in my suitcase in hostel when I went to college, and only use it in case of emergency. Very few people had mobile phones in college and towards the end of my 4-year course, almost all my friends had one, so we exchanged numbers and kept in touch.
I hadn’t gotten on to the smartphone bandwagon until I got a Nokia C3, much later in life; for just about Rs5,000, it was a stellar phone. I hadn’t figured out the internet bit but it had the QWERTY keypad and I could save lots of music. So until 2012, really, I was using my phone pretty much the conventional way – make calls, drop SMSes. And even then, I remember, neither I nor any of my friends was peering into our phones while meeting up; even at work, we were not busy with our phones during edit meetings.
Of course, we used the internet extensively for work, because, well, how can you file a story without a little help from Google? But it was on our computers, not on our phones. Although one of my friends once bragged about filing a story live, as it happened, from his Blackberry. We made him feel miserable because he was reporting on a school annual day function or some such.
For me, it all changed when I got my first iPhone the following year. I discovered a whole new world of apps, and the beautiful iPhone camera. I gradually started checking my mail, my Facebook, reading articles, newspapers on my phone. It was also the time I changed into one of those zillion other people who constantly look into their phones and ‘check in’ from everywhere. My friends were like that too, so spending quality time with them involved all of us sitting together and peering into our phones, and even conversations started revolving around someone’s social media update or photo. It is super depressing, when I think about it now.
M and I keep talking about designating no-phone zones at home; like using our phone when we are together anywhere at home – be it the living room, kitchen or bedroom, is prohibited, unless we need to take a call or send an important message. And no, definitely no Instagram. #deathbyhashtags
Our friend’s dad in Kollam, Kerala, has a no-phone policy in his ‘den’ – a lounge in his beautiful home with his entire collection of music and alcohol (two things he can’t live without). When we were visiting, he made us put our phones on silent mode and into our bags, and we spoke for hours about music, without any distraction.
Here’s one tip I have on killing the urge to check your phone. Don’t carry it in your hand or even your pocket. Put it in your bag, and if you’re a woman, chances are you’ll not be able to find your phone once it’s in your bag. It’s way too much effort to navigate your hand through all those old bills and expired lip balms and hand sanitizers and what not, to find your phone. So let it stay there. It’s safe.
When I’m home, I keep my phone in a room different from where I’m sitting. If it’s not lying in front of me, I don’t feel like checking it. Maybe I’m just lazy but hey, it works.
How addicted are you to your smartphone? Any suggestions or ideas to help get through the day without checking your phone a million times? Share your thoughts, please!
There’s a 40-inch flat-screen TV in my living room. It’s bang in the middle, the centre of attraction. Every thing else in the room is kind of arranged around it.
When I really think about it, it seems downright silly and ridiculous that something as pointless as a TV should be the highlight of the room. And it’s becoming a bit of a problem for me. Because every time we have a party at home or have friends over, at some point in the conversation, M is playing music really loudly through the home theatre system and choosing songs from the TV screen through the Western Digital thing.
Of course, he’s cute and oh-so-savvy. But you know what happens immediately after that? People stop talking. They are glued to the TV. They are more particular about what song to play next, what artiste to choose, then someone wants to watch a music video, then a movie. Soon, people are trying to connect their phones to the TV or play songs through their bluetooth.
I like it when conversations flow freely and easily. And I hate my smug TV for bringing all this camaraderie to a screeching halt. Maybe I should move it to the bedroom but that again is terrible because it interferes with sleep quality. I keep telling M that we should simply play music in the background and make our conversations the real hero, not technology. Maybe someday he’ll listen. These men, I tell you.
Since I couldn’t find an appropriate picture, here’s one, of a banana-almond-Nutella ice cream I once made at home:) I will post the recipe soon:)
There is a story from my childhood which could potentially be a classic anecdote. Except that it is not. Because no one seems to believe me when I say that I was offered a cup of ice cream by none other than Kamal Haasan (a very famous Indian actor) when I was a kid. I know you don’t believe it either. Which is why I stopped telling that story to people. But this is how it goes, anyway. I was a kid – must have been about 4 or 5 years I think – and we were at a pretty rad restaurant in Madras. I still call it Madras, because as the cliche goes, ‘Chennai is a city, Madras is an emotion’. I am not from the city but spent about four years or so in Madras before I got married, and it’s home, in so many ways that my real home isn’t.
So yes, I had gone to Madras then on a holiday mostly because a lot of people from my extended family live there. I avoid most of them like the plague these days, but when you are a kid, you don’t have much choice in these matters, do you? I remember that my cousin was there and so were my grandparents. I was crying over something really silly, like being denied ice cream or some such, and there he was, the greatest actor I had ever known, coming over to us, and very sweetly asking my grandmother if he can please offer a cup of ice cream to this sweet little girl. Of course, my grandmom refused to entertain him. And I’m sure she’d have noticed that it was Kamal Haasan. But she didn’t. And she denies that the episode ever happened. So now, you see the problem with the anecdote right? Sucks when it happens. You think you have a great story but then it’s authenticity is highly questionable and you are not sure if it really happened or if it’s in your head.
In other news, I have only about ten days of my notice period left at my news organisation, and I’m already looking forward to life as a freelancer. I have a few projects lined up and it will keep me busy for a few months. So exciting. I’m watching Notting Hill and it reminds me of how much I love (or once loved) Hugh Grant. Who doesn’t love a good rom-com!
As I write this, I am thinking about all the things I wanted to be. It’s a lovely November evening here in Delhi, and I’m home, sipping a cup of coffee, trying to reflect on life, and generally be deep. I was going to write about regrets, about growing up in a slightly toxic and emotionally unsupportive ecosystem, about seeing my dreams being crushed and shredded by people close to me. But then I realize that this is going to be a post about resilience. Because I survived all that shit. And also because I had taken a vow to be positive and hopeful, no matter what.
I try not to think of those tumultuous times but every once in a while, it comes back to haunt me, and I become a wreck. Today was one of those days. M tells me I should talk to my family about it and that they owe me an apology at the least. But I have never been a confrontation-ist; I find it easier to avoid people and bury my anxieties deep inside until it starts pissing me off.
When I was a kid, I used to run to the kitchen and drink endless glasses of water whenever a guest or a relative came over. I was shy and insecure, and talking to people made me nervous and uncomfortable. Besides, I was the least family favourite among all my cousins, simply because I was weird. At least I was made to believe that was the case, for the longest time. I was glad I could sing but I knew so many people who had a better voice and were more confident. But the one thing I wanted more than anything else was to be able to communicate and actually talk to people without coming across as weak or stupid.
So I started off by rehearsing conversations in front of the bathroom mirror. My mom would wonder why I took so long to have a shower. I would have imaginary conversations in my head and pick up pop-culture references from the occasional episode of Friends or a movie I just saw. I’d think of witty things to say to people and live in my own imaginary world and bask in imaginary glory.
By the time I reached Class 11, all my friends had left my town and for the first time, I had to deal with a situation where I did not have a group of friends of my own. This is gradually becoming the theme of my life, by the way. I was lonely, depressed and spent my time studying like a psycho and writing cringe-worthy poetry. I also discovered the coolness of Yahoo chat rooms. It was like the forbidden fruit; I had heard my parents and relatives speak ill of little boys and girls who were corrupted because of this new thing called the internet. Yet, it was in these shady chat rooms, where creeps were lurking, that I actually found my voice. For the first time ever, I had an audience. People wanted to talk to me. And I was told that I was funny. Maybe it was the anonymity that a chat room offered, or the fact that I was among strangers whom I did not have to meet. I could be a different person every time. I could be an artist from Melbourne or a musician from Hawaii. This was a revelation. Yes, I was seeking validation from complete strangers but I needed it at that point in my life.
I have come a long way since that neurotic, insecure girl that I once was. Yet, even as I’m inching closer to the magical age of 30, I realize that I wanted to be a great conversationalist all along.
Paperback writer 