Notes to self

A set of reminders for a better everyday.

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.

16.) Cut yourself some slack. It’s all right.

New year, same me

I’m not big on New Year Resolutions, but the last year has revealed several aspects of my personality I hadn’t encountered in a long time. Anger, frustration, anxiety, also unbridled joy and love – having a baby brought a whole lot of big big feelings and emotions to the fore. So I really feel the need to sit back, take stock and put it all into writing. It’s my version of therapy. So here’s a laundry list to help get myself back on track.

Exercise

This tops the list for various reasons: I need the endorphins because baby care drives me up the wall on some days. I quite enjoy working out but haven’t done any hard core exercises so far, so this might be the year of high intensity strength training work outs. God knows I need all that physical strength and endurance. Surgery has left me with a weak back and there have been times when I’ve hurt my legs and back sleeping or just standing or sitting. I kid you not. I toss from sleeping on one side ( night time nursing is no fun but slightly bearable this way) to getting flat on my back and my body literally creaks and goes: whoa, easy there! Literally a wake up call ( pun intended). When sleeping has turned into an injury-causing activity, you know it’s time. I do not like gyms so I’m just going to resume my runs and work out at home. Any good YouTube channels and app recommendations are welcome.

Self care

I spend my day in atrocious clothes, my skin is dry and scaly (why you do this Hyderabad) and my hair is messy, wiry and has a mind of its own. My self care aspirations are hence very basic – moisturise every day, oil hair, use good conditioner, brush hair. Yes, the bar is set really low. If I manage to have a consistent night skin care regimen (cleanse-tone-serum) then I’d have outdone myself, but I’m the least disciplined when it comes to stuff like this. Moisturising seems like a chore to me, that’s like five minutes of my time I’d rather have spent scrolling through my Instagram feed. But I need to muster the self discipline to do this because I kind of care about how I look. To some extent. I’m always such a mess so it seems like I don’t give a damn but I do. So this year, I might be putting in more effort into looking like a decently turned out human being, because I don’t want to look like I stole someone else’s baby.

Declutter

I’m passionate about cleaning up and sorting out the house; I get wildly excited about it, and rub my hands in glee just anticipating the whole process. It started when I was still in school, this obsession with cleaning, sorting, purging, rearranging, and it’s still going strong. M probably thinks I display serial-killer type tendencies what with the mad glint in my eye when I talk about spending the weekend tidying up the home.

But despite this, my house is full of stuff. I can never be a minimalist because I live with a hoarder and a baby. M’s strategy involves buying anything and everything that’s on sale irrespective of whether we need it. We have multiple shelves lined with toiletries that’ll probably last us a lifetime. A cabinet full of single malt bottles. A cupboard full of glasses. A bag full of old credit cards. Drawers filled with cables, endless loops of wires, cardboard boxes, batteries, remote controls, screws. I’m perhaps marginally better, but the home decor section is my kryptonite. Can not resist pretty kitchenware, bed linen and the likes. And also cannot stop buying cute dresses for D. Time to channel my inner Mary Kondo and give away things that don’t spark joy.

This year, I vow to buy less and give more.

Don’t judge

Im prone to making snap judgments about people without knowing zilch about them. This has to stop. It might help to get to understand them better and be more accepting of different points of view. This judging thing is coming directly in the way of my other goal of making new friends and rekindling old friendships.

Nurture friendships

I really thought it’d be easy to nurture friendships but it takes effort. I hadn’t really thought of it, maybe even took my friends for granted at some point, but it dawned on me after I hit 30 that things aren’t quite the same. People change, they grow, evolve, and your friendship must provide that space for it to sustain and remain healthy. At the same time, it’s equally important to put yourself out there and connect with newer people. I thought of myself as an introvert but I kind of thrive in the company of like minded people, so I must make it a point to engage with my friends – both old and new – because it makes me happy.

Develop a hobby

Raising a baby leaves me with little time to do anything else of merit but I realise that when I’m overwhelmed, even ten minutes away from the offspring helps. So it makes sense to use my breaks wisely instead of staring at my phone. I used to be clued into the music scene, now I hardly know what’s going on or who the new artistes are, so time to reacquaint myself with new music and old favourites. I must also read more. And bake more. Do a bit of gardening. Give my attempt at painting another shot. Resume music lessons. Take online courses. Get into yoga. Or photography. Take up interesting freelance work. The key is to stay inspired, maybe D will pick up my vibe too.

Stay calm

I cannot tell you just how angry and frustrated I get if D doesn’t calm down or if she refuses to sleep no matter what I do. Most of that anger is kind of directed at myself for failing at such a simple task, and at that point it’s hard to see that I’m asking too much of a ten month old baby. It’s ridiculous. I must absolutely calm the fuck down! It’s true that as babies grow older, they feed off your energy, so it’s important that you pass on only good vibes. This year, I’m going to focus on letting go of anger, resentment and guilt, and aim to be a much calmer and positive person. Maybe give meditation a shot once again or develop my own strategies to cope with negativity. Time to get my zen mode on and be a much better version of myself this year onwards.

And you, what are your personal goals for the new year?

Ten years is a lifetime

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.

Emergency exit row shenanigans

I’ve ended up getting the emergency exit row window seat in the flight several times, including the one from Chennai to Delhi last night.

I won’t lie. It’s a huge responsibility. So, yesterday, when the flight attendant came over to explain the safety procedures, I listened intently, determined not to screw up the job. I paid close attention, stopped to ask her questions (you mean, I have to bust open this door? This is the red handle in the picture? Ok, got it. Dontorry) and almost took down notes. If a plane full of people counted on me to rescue them as we plummet into the Bay Of Bengal, I had to be their hero. Heck, I was as crucial to that plane as the pilot, if not more. I was tempted to give a riveting speech about how we are all in this together, and that I wouldn’t let them down, I’m not the hero they deserve but one that they need for the next two-and-a-half-hours, at least.

I wish the flight attendant took her job more seriously though; she seemed way too casual while explaining the emergency moves and she was smiling all the way. People can die, dude, so how about taking me through this super important process with more clarity, please? I couldn’t even spot the red handle at first, and I’m sure it’s not as easy to lift that door, as illustrated in the poorly drawn comic strip. Plus M, who was sitting next to me, was busy playing Subway Surfer on his iPad, and did not listen to a word of what the flight attendant said. So clearly, the pressure on me was mounting. You cracked the Anna University engineering entrance exam, you can do this…I assured myself.

Apart from this inflated sense of importance and responsibility, the other great thing about emergency exit row seats is the leg room, which is the least they can offer to someone who is burdened with this gigantic mission. I was hoping I wouldn’t be stuck in the loo or snoring away when the crash happens. I had my eye on the door whenever the flight tumbled over clouds or lost a wee bit of altitude.

Some emergency exit row seats don’t have push-back, but depends on the airline, I guess. Ours was a Jet and the push-back worked. However, I am more comfortable with the seat upright. Also, I got my reserved meal before most people, and I’m not sure if it’s because I was on an incredibly important seat or if I just got lucky;)

Thankfully, the flight landed smoothly, but I’m still wondering if anyone has ever been successful in kicking open the emergency door and escaping to safety while paving the way for the rest of the flight to follow.

Any flight experiences you’d like to share? Do you have a favorite seat?

An anecdote gone wrong

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!