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.

Your body changes and how!

I had gone to a tailor in my complex to get a couple of blouses done, and she asked me if I had a ‘ measurement ‘ blouse that she could replicate. Nope, none of the old blouses fit me now because I’m much bigger, I found myself saying, with a hint of frustration. And then it started all over again. This ache and longing to get back to my pre pregnancy body, to have a much flatter tummy, to be able to run a 5k without huffing and puffing and giving up midway.

My body has changed in more ways than one would imagine and adjusting to what is now the new normal takes tremendous effort. It helps that I’ve always been a fashion disaster because my wardrobe is full of clothes twice my size; I preferred loose clothes over snug fitted ones as i valued ( and still do) comfort over style, plus hiding food babies is much easier when you wear larger clothes. So while I still fit into most of my pre pregnancy outfits, it’s not the same. Clothes are tighter around the waist and shoulders now, and eight months post partum, my stomach is very prominent, and I feel like I look low key pregnant.

It’s hard to find time to exercise with a baby in tow that one has to manage without ‘the village’. It’s just M and me with D at home, and my day is jam packed with more important things such as nursing D, cleaning her up ( teething poop is the worst and it happens 5-6 times during the day and even in the middle of the night), giving her a bath, making her meals, ensuring she’s well fed, whipping up our meals ( we don’t have a cook), doing and folding laundry, putting D to sleep ( which is definitely a lot of hard work involving bedtime stories and songs from Google Home, among others) and making sure the house has some semblance of order and routine ( slowly giving up on it honestly). It helps that M works from home so we share the load. Coffee is gulped down and is usually cold. Meals are consumed in a hurry. A shower is not more than two minutes long. The newspaper hasn’t been read in days. TV is merely decorative. Books have been lying unread. Self care and grooming ( and I use the word in the loosest possible way) is just down to the basics – brushing and a shower. Who has the time to go to the salon, moisturise and brush hair and all?

So I try and prioritise my day. One some days, I really need extra sleep so I skip the cooking and we order in. Then there are days when I work myself up to a frenzy what with elaborate lunches and ambitious housekeeping projects such as rearranging the kitchen or wardrobes, dusting cupboards etc. For someone like me who can’t stand clutter, it takes a lot of effort into coming to terms with a messy house. My home is happy, full of love and there’s a happy baby on board, so I’m not so obsessive about dust or random things scattered in the living room.

Where does fitness figure in the midst of this beautiful chaos? It does, in the little things. I may not go for a run but I try and eat healthy most of the time. My meal sizes almost doubled after delivery, thanks to constant nursing that leaves me starving sometimes, so trying to pack in more veggies and fibre and less carbs. I try and do some squats and surya namaskars whenever I can, because I enjoy working out at home rather than hitting the gym. But I do these knowing fully well that they’re not going to help me lose tummy flab; that requires more concentrated exercises, but I’m telling myself it’s okay. My body has been through life changing processes and I must respect it, love it and give it all the time in the world to heal. And heal, it does. That’s the amazing thing about our bodies, they are resilient and they’ll do their thing. For now, I’m learning to come to terms with it, eat right, enjoy working out whenever I can and realising that it’s not a compulsion. I don’t have to do something because I should or I can.

I might eventually lose the tummy ( or not) and still may never go back to my pre pregnancy body, but I’m coming to terms with the fact that as long as health and happiness prevail in the home, little else matters. I don’t care about stretch marks, but body weight does bother me sometimes, but on most days, I’m fine with the way things are, and I’m proud for having gone through a complicated delivery ( with two back to back surgeries spanning 90 minutes), surviving the initial weeks of excruciating pain and sleeplessness and having come this far. (Infinitely proud of D for thriving in a hostile fibroid infested uterus and adapting to the new world like a rock star!) This is going to be the new normal from now on, and I’m slowly learning to embrace it and go with the flow. Grateful for this life altering journey that is eye opening in so many ways; really pushes me to be a better person every single day.

Biryani, playlists and more

I busted my knee a few days ago, and I haven’t been working out the last couple of days. M says I’m not a graceful runner, that I swing my feet with much force causing a thud on the treadmill, hence the twisted knee and ankle. Anyway, muscles I did not know existed have begun to ache, and then my uterus decided to bleed the hell out, without as much as a warning (no PMS? mixed feelings about it, some warning would have been nice), so I’m pretty much confined to the living room couch or the bed most of the day. That, however, did not deter me from venturing out for some biryani last night, it being Eid; and if you remember, I’m vegetarian. Yes, laugh all you want, you smug meat-eaters, but a girl’s gotta eat when she wants to, especially when said girl is on her period.

Paradise Biryani has an outlet in the neighbourhood, but I was unceremoniously denied my vegetarian biryani; apparently they ran out of stock. Kind of lame. I was sulking in a corner dunking my Osmania biscuit in sweet Irani chai, as I saw M march out of the restaurant with a giant packet of mutton biryani, a grin on his face. Our next stop was Bawarchi, where I managed to get my veg biryani packed. It was my first biryani in Hyderabad, and while I was expecting to be blown away by the complexity of spices, and the texture of slow cooked vegetables, all I got was coloured basmati rice. So bloody underwhelming. I did spot a handful of veggies tucked at the very bottom of the pack, but I’m pretty sure that the chef had dropped them in the biryani by mistake. Also, no fried onions. Such a damp squib, it turned out to be.

On that sad note, as promised in the earlier post, here’s a glimpse of some of the artistes/songs I listen to, while I’m running.

Chromeo: Literally any song by the Canadian electro-funk band, but mostly from the duo’s 2014 album, White Women. Permanent fixtures on my list include this peppy track , this one and this funky number. Really gets me in the groove.

Tame Impala: If you haven’t heard this Aussie act earlier, I have one word for you. Currents. One of the best albums to come out in 2015. There are some real gems in the album, but my running playlist has these two songs: Let It Happen and The Less I Know The Better. And I never tire of them, especially the second song, despite the weird, confusing video.

Daft Punk: R.A.M is one classic album that is going to be on every playlist of mine – whether at a party, at home, on the road, or in the gym. Lose Yourself To Dance and Get Lucky figure in the list.

Foster The People: Songs from Supermodel, the band’s second album, should receive more airplay; I think they’re better, more evolved, and dancier (that should be a real word), and this song always gives that extra spring in my step.

Capital Cities: Safe and Sound will always remind me of 2013. It was song of the year, as far as I was concerned. And what a fun song. Then along came Kangaroo Court, I Sold My Bed But Not My Stereo and One Minute More, making for one cracker of an album (A Tidal Wave OF Mystery). It’s also my happy running album.

Robin Schulz: He had my attention at Wave After Wave, (although it’s by Mr Probz, remixed by Schulz) and I’m a fan for life. Sugar, Prayer in C, Headlights, Sun Goes Down and more recently, OK, featuring the beauty that is James Blunt, are my top songs for a run.

Calvin Harris: I’m not into hardcore EDM, but I dig a track with melody. And usually if it is not too new-age-y, a retro slant is enough to get me hooked. I liked Calvin’s earlier stuff, right up to 2014 or so. when Summer hit the charts. My list has the older ones, like this track with Dizzee Rascal, I’m Not Alone,  Ready For The Weekend, Bounce, Feel So Close,  and so on. I just watched the monstrosity that is Feels, that was apparently released a couple of days back, so R.I.P Calvin!

Avicii: My kind of music. Wake Me Up is my go to track, when I’m out running or in the gym. In fact, the entire album, called True, makes for stellar listening.

The Black Keys: Lonely Boy makes me want to dance like the guy in the video, and Gold On The Ceiling is ideal for the fag end of my run.

Chicane: Offshore has been on my playlist since time immemorial, and though I have no idea if Chicane even exists today, some of his songs like Stoned In Love continue to accompany me on my quest for fitness.

Apart from these, random numbers by Arctic Monkeys, Alt-J, Phil Collins, Rod Stewart, Coldplay, Clean Bandit, and even lesser-known bands like Mudcrutch (featuring Tom Petty) sit pretty on my ipod.

And for some inexplicable reason, this inanely absurd song still remains on my list. It’s called Tiger Took My Family and it’s by some loony guy called Dr Bombay. I’m sure it’s racist as hell too. I urge you to give it a spin.

What’s on your playlist?

 

 

 

If it’s morning, it has to be Madras

2016 has not been an easy year. It will go down in history as a rubbish year ravaged by war, cruelty, natural calamities, of demonetisation and of Trump winning the US elections. It also saw the passing away of some of the greatest minds in the world of music and the arts, including some all-time favourites like Bowie and Prince.Closer home, December has been a nightmare for Madras-it was the floods last year, and now, it’s the demise of Jayalalitha and the brutal cyclone that has turned my favourite city into an apocalyptic wasteland. I’m sure the city will rise up it to it, like it always has.

Personally too, 2016 is likely to be a turning point in many ways, on retrospect. It has been a year of loss, but also one of learning. After M lost his dad, I find myself thinking a lot about death; it may seem morbid, but I’m trying to be more pragmatic about it, and find constructive ways to deal with the pain, and M and I now have conversations about what we could do to make our lives less complicated. Do we have nominees for our bank accounts? Do we know our financial credentials? Stuff like that. And trust me, while I would shun such conversations like the plague earlier, now I realise that it’s absolutely important, and it need not necessarily be uncomfortable or morbid.

Then there was my surgery after which I’ve come to the conclusion that health is indeed wealth. Extremely cliched, yes, but you never realise how much you take for granted until you have to spend months on end recuperating from an open surgery. So I’ve been off alcohol for more than five months, and while I was never big on drinking anyway, now I stay away from it completely. No sugary drinks either.

On the work front too, I’ve learned that it’s not enough to just be damn good at what you do, you need to make yourself visible, make some noise in front of the right people, all of which seem like too much work to me. I’m happy to be left alone, really. I’d gone to an office party reluctantly last night and spent most of my time fidgeting with my phone and got so bored after an hour or so that I booked myself a cab and left. I’m not one of those extremely socially awkward individuals though I can sometimes get restless if I don’t know anyone well enough. I need at least one person I share a good rapport with to sort of distract myself from the sea of humanity at a social gathering. And in my current office, I find it hard to connect with colleagues-they’re too intimidatingly cool (or they try to be), they dress up like they’re off to a party every single day, complete with make-up, and there’s so much emphasis on superficiality and showing off and I feel like I’ve nothing to talk to them about. It’s a very Delhi thing I guess, and something I’ve come to hate about the city and its flaky people. I’ll always be an outsider here.

While working in a travel magazine might seem glamorous and fun to a lot of outsiders, the reality is quite different. I don’t get to travel at all, on work, I mean; outside of it, I travel quite a lot, and whatever I write in the magazine is mostly based on my own holidays and rare occasions when I do get to go somewhere on assignment (Note: it happened just twice this entire year). You wouldn’t believe the number of promotions and research-based pieces and sales pitches I need to churn out, and the amount of time I spend chiselling copies to perfection or writing captions for pictures, changing fonts and following up with people to send in their stories. Besides, the only kind of articles I get to do are mundane interviews and uninspiring hotel and restaurant reviews in the city. But I don’t mind the job itself – the silver lining here is that it’s honestly been a learning curve and I’m sure this experience will come in handy. Plus I’ve been taking up online courses and I’m driven to learn new stuff and build my skills, so to that extent, the job gives me the time and space- it’s not all-consuming.

In other news, I’ve been waking up at 6 am every day, despite the biting cold. And I realise how much I love early mornings – the 6-am-filter coffee, Tamil news on TV, old Hindi songs on B4U, a shady channel – today though they seem to be playing only Ajay Devgun songs for some reason – the quiet, the reassurance that you can take on the day and the fact that I’m supremely efficient, well-planned and productive. For me, mornings are not a time to lounge or plonk in front of the TV; it’s when I get a lot of stuff done and out of the way and busy mornings are the best kind of mornings. Delhi, however, is not a morning city at all. Madras, on the other hand, is a proper morning city, much like most of Tamil Nadu. I miss the buzz around Margazhi; morning visits to the temple, pretty kolams everywhere, sumptuous breakfasts filled with steaming hot idli-vadai-pongal…and the morning kutcheris and lec-dems, walks in the park. Delhi, on the other hand, has the worst kind of breakfast. I do not approve of samosas, jalebis and desi-ghee-slathered parathas as breakfast material. Nope.

I’m also excited to announce that we might be shifting out of the city in the next three months, hopefully. And there’s a possibility that we may be moving to Hyderabad, a city I’ve only heard good things about. Fingers crossed.

Body image, gifts and internet wisdom on relationships

The internet is full of drivel on relationships and sex. Most of it is very age and gender specific too. Such as this godawful list on Huffington Post that claims to de-mystify what women want ‘older men’ to do to them, outside of the bedroom. For some reason it applies strictly to older men, as opposed to younger men, and it is pretty vague in that it doesn’t specify an age range for what it considers ‘older’.

Anyway, it includes profound stuff like foot massages that the guy must give the woman, but no, he must not ask for one in return because then it’s a ‘barter, and not a gift’. Also, the older man in question is expected to patiently teach his woman how to ‘use the remote for the umpteenth time’, because apparently it’s a turn-on. Definitely not for the man, I’m sure. Not only that, the man is expected to plan vacations, be a generous tipper, make decisions, give thoughtful gifts and send flowers. ‘Coz girls run the world, stupid.

Honestly, I don’t get this. I don’t understand how demanding that a guy do all these things for you in a relationship is ever going to make said guy want to stay in such relationship. Also, aren’t you basically just leeching off the guy and being super needy and dependent? How is any of this empowering the woman in the relationship? Would these women like it if the men wanted them to do the same things? Wouldn’t we raise a hue and cry over gender inequality and such?

I’m all for feminism and woman power, but I’m also increasingly aware that things are going slightly mental on this front. It’s because girl power is being used as an excuse by some dumb women to justify their bitchiness and incredible laziness. Like being terribly rude to a random guy on the road for no reason, because well, I’m a feminist. Or being a slob who overeats and doesn’t move her ass, risking obesity and possible heart problems, because ‘real women have curves’.

And if you are a fit woman who exercises and eats healthy, you are scorned upon because you are making the not-so-fit ones insecure. How dare you go around flaunting your toned body when the ‘plus-size’ women are doing their best to promote a ‘healthy and positive body image.’

Why these double standards? Why is a woman’s body always under the scanner? You have to be slim, but not thin, you must have curves; but you must cut all the fat from your curves, otherwise you will look flabby. Plus, if you do have a perfect body, you will be objectified, and at the same time these ‘real women’ will hate you. If you are a plus size woman, you are made fun of, you are asked to lose weight and you end up feeling insecure about yourself.

Will you please stop telling us how we are supposed to feel about our bodies? I am not slim, I’m not fat; I exercise, I walk, I meditate, I try and eat healthy. I may not be losing weight or dieting or aiming to become a model, but I am passionate about a healthy lifestyle. So, sorry I don’t really want to be a part of your body image politics, or justify why my body is the way it is.

OK? Now, back to the Huffpost article. Would I want M to send me flowers, or give me thoughtful gifts based on ‘information shared in our private jokes and private moments’? The answer is NO. I may have joked about wanting something on these lines but please don’t embarrass the two of us by actually buying it. And no disturbing sex toys, thank you.

Don’t give me flowers; they are symbolic and lazy. Also, what am I to do with them? Put them in a vase for a day, and then they die, so I throw them. It’s pointless. That’s the problem with these ‘symbolic gestures’ – they are not practical. Yes, they may be thoughtful, but I believe that it’s not just the thought that counts; sometimes thoughts are immaterial if you are going to suck at implementation. It shows you care, but don’t care enough.

The article also says, “Hint: It is the rare woman who finds appliances thoughtful.” Ah, I may be one of those rare women after all, because appliances ARE thoughtful! Get me one of these, and I swear you will be the most romantic person in the entire universe.

But you know what’s better? Not having to give or receive gifts. I buy what I want and you buy what you want. Easy-peasy. What do you think?