thakurtho

[thakurtho]

Be like my dad

I watched Gunjan Saxena last evening and felt inspired to write about the similar relationship that my father and I have shared in our lives. It’s something that I have wanted to document for a while, but I guess its time hadn’t come.

My father, now retired, was a General Surgeon in the Bihar Government. He came from a family with limited means. But he was blessed with a very high functioning brain. I remember him telling me how he used to hide the slates on which he got 100/100 in math just so he could have it for longer. He was a brilliant child but also out of control naughty. His relationship with his own father was fairly strained. He used to get belted by him (and I mean, literally, with a belt) very often. As an adult, it continued to stay strained as he would fight for attention from his parents but never became their ‘favourite’ son.

He was an honest surgeon serving the State Government. And when he was not in the hospital, he was giving free service to those who needed it. He took his Hippocratic oath very seriously. He wouldn’t dole out surgeries and meds if you didn’t need them - something I learnt and kept very close to my life. In Bihar, practising medicine was a business at the time. Infact, medicine continues to be a business even today. But he was giving free surgeries and medicines instead. I remember going to our village after Diwali every year with cartons full of his physician samples and doing free medical check ups for the villagers. As a doctor, it was easy to make money, get gifts from the pharma companies if you just promoted their products. My father never did. He never did forced surgeries, never charged excess fees, never lied to patients and hence, never made too much money from there.

He was, and continues to be, a very honest man. He was, and continues to have, a huge sense of duty for the oath he took. As a young man, he faced enough hardships and social pressure to get corrupted - especially in 1980s Bihar. Only a spine as strong as his could have gotten through it. This pressure continued on him when he got married and became a father very early on - to provide more for his family. He held on to his pride desperately, and somehow managed to get through that.

But what is beautiful is what follows after. When I was 6 or 7, he told me something, outside the gate of our small Patna house, after a confrontation with family on money matters. I remember it so distinctively because even with my little brain processing power at the time, I understood he was deeply hurt with what was happening and he wanted me to not go through that ever. He was passing on a life lesson. And it was this: ‘I don’t have any money to give you, no estate, no farms. All I can offer you is education. You make what you can out of it.’ I took that lesson to heart. And did exactly that.

Now this becomes very significant in another context. In 1990s Bihar, women didn’t get shit. I am not sure if they do even now. By popular belief, my father was a conservative man. I can say, at that time, even I felt so because he didn’t appreciate me wearing sleeveless or going over to my friend’s. He was also an absentee father. For my teenage years, while my mum brother and I lived in Patna, he served in Darbhanga. He didn’t want us to move there because the schools were better in Patna. I am lifelong grateful for that decision of my parents. My life wouldn’t have been what it is today without that. He lived up to his word on providing me with the best education.

However, our distance continued to grow in my teenage years and I resented him for his so-called backward thoughts at that time. I didn’t fully understand that perhaps it was for my safety and because of his helplessness in the possible scenario of something happening. It was very common to get abducted in Patna while I was growing up there. Especially for doctor’s families. And maybe he was aware that if one of us did, he wouldn’t have that much money to pay ransom without having to ask someone, and he didn’t have any influential connections to fix it either. I understood this only much later in my life when I had passed my teenage angst.

Anyhow, coming back to the significant context of women in Bihar. His thoughts on women’s rights were very different from other men at the time. My mother was 19 when she got married - still in first year graduation. With his and my dada’s support, she went on to study, despite two children in 3 years of marriage. She is a PhD Doctor today. My father provided the same support to me. He didn’t differentiate between me and my brother one bit - for anything. He gave us the same opportunities and the same love. He supported us equally. And even with limited knowledge of parenting, he ensured he didn’t pass on the baggage of his own relationship with his father onto ours. He never once hit us. Not even a slap. Ok, there was once when I told him that my brother was bleeding from his mouth. That was a stupid move! He never imposed religious beliefs on to us. When I come to think about it, the very hardcore things that children learn from parents and then try and reverse them in their adult life, were never imposed on us at all. We had the freedom to be our own individuals.

I wanted to be a doctor like him. So I started preparing. He was clear that if I studied, I had to go to the top schools, where he couldn’t. However, when I did start studying, I realised it was way more hard work than I was prepared to put in. So I changed my mind. He supported. When I finished schooling in Patna, I wanted to go study in Delhi University and he supported that too. But his condition was only one - I needed to get the college hostel for me to live in Delhi alone, for safety reasons. We didn’t have any relatives in the city at the time. No kids of my generation in his family had stepped out of Bihar to study - no women. Patna Women’s College was the scene back then.

He came with me for college admissions to Delhi. We stayed at Indian Medical Association’s facilities since the rooms were discounted for member doctors. We took buses in and out of Delhi University for almost 1-2 weeks. We didn’t talk much but he was just there. When I got through LSR for Economics, Math & Statistics, he was very proud. He wanted me to take Economics for the career choices it offered - he had done his research in the gloomy Bihar days of limited exposure and internet. But I said I will take Statistics. I didn’t know much about it back then, but it sounded cool. Once again, he supported (after a bit of arguing). Within a few hours of that day, he went to a cyber cafe and read up on career prospects of Statistics. He knew more about it than I did!

For a man grown up with limited means in the darkest days of Bihar, to stand up against his own family’s pressure - to send his daughter to the infamous city of Delhi to study a subject like Statistics which no one could probably pronounce, let alone know of, took great guts. He had it. He stood up for me and my decisions. When I hear of stories of supportive fathers in metros, I really appreciate them. But fathers who come from the most backward upbringing in this country and make something out of their daughters, deserve a special place in the annals of feminist fathers.

I didn’t do much to disappoint him while I was in Delhi. My brother did his bit though. That was the first time my father felt ashamed of his children. But both of us were so good with our academics, that our other mistakes could still be covered up back in Bihar. I went on to do an MBA from XLRI - and that pumped up his chest even further. I start working at HSBC at a starting salary he had never earned till then. He couldn’t be more proud of me. Then started the downfall of me as a poster child. I fell in love and I wanted an ‘inter-caste love marriage’. The concept of the usual Bihari maithil brahmin marriage proposal had been rejected by me. He couldn’t take the shame and family pressure of what me and my brother had done, and decided to move out of Bihar then.

It was a huge shift for him. He had never lived outside of Bihar. He had no family, no support system in Delhi. He was very conscious of the fact that his command over the English language wasn’t good enough to survive in a big city. He scrambled through jobs in private hospitals. He was soon disenchanted with the level of corruption in all these places. Between his professional and personal failures as a father (that’s how he processed it), he became a very bitter man. At this time, he was also nursing his own father and getting him treated in Delhi for cancer. Cancer care is extremely draining on families. My mother stopped working to support. But it was still physically, emotionally and financially very draining. But the biggest blow came one year within the passing of my dada.

My dad’s younger brother, the only brother, had a medical emergency. He called my dad one evening relating some symptoms. My dad immediately asked him to get to a hospital and take blood transfusion. Calcutta, where my kaka lived, isn’t that fast with things. So even though he went in, he never got any transfusion till next morning. He haemorraged and passed away before 7am next morning. My father couldn’t take that blow. My mum called me, I flew into Calcutta by lunch time to be with my father. I have never seen him so broken. He couldn’t stop blaming himself for the death of his younger brother. I don’t think he has still forgiven himself for it. But the truth is, universe has its own plan. That was all that my Kaka had been given. Not my father, not those incompetent doctors at Calcutta could have saved him. But as humans, we tend to believe that we have control, we could have changed things, could have done more. But people like him, we always do the best we can at any time, anyway. So there’s nothing more you could have done Papa. But he did. He went on to fight a court battle against Apollo Hospitals for 8-10 years in a case of serious medical negligence. Honest people rarely win against dishonest systems. He knew that. But he fought. And continues to fight - against the same community that gave him a large part of his identity as a doctor. He fights for what he knows is right. He fights for honesty. And that’s a lesson I have held so close to my heart.

In the aftermath of that tragedy, my father agreed to my love marriage wedding after a standstill of 4 years. A quick and dirty wedding. He finally seemed happy. He fought his incredibly conservative family to allow for the first ever ‘inter-caste love-marriage’ in the entire family. Everyone showed up as well. He drank for the first time in many years. After that wedding, every child in my generation of that family, went in for love-marriage. For every aunt and uncle, my dad was the benchmark - if Sudhir could agree, so can I.

But that wasn’t enough. Soonly, I gave him the other battle to fight - divorce. He couldn’t understand why I opted out of a marriage I fought for. At that time, even I didn’t. But I was happy to have. I don’t think I was ready for that concept then. He fought with me again. Stopped speaking for a while - we had those phases many times. Finally, he learnt how to lift his head again amongst family and friends and own up to the fact that his daughter was divorced. I am not kidding, the stigma of divorce for a woman is big. Despite being a strong independent woman, I couldn’t lift my head for a while, so I can imagine how much tougher it must have been for him. Sometimes I feel that perhaps because of all the shit that my brother and I threw at him, he became a stronger better person as well :)

Somehow, after that, my father decided to stop living his life, as dictated by others. He finally broke away from the shackles that the society had long since built around him. He made some money. He made his life decisions irrespective of what others thought. He became free. And to us as children, that version of our father was incredibly inspiring.

This man showed me that you could change as a person at 50. He now drinks with me. He plans my second ‘destination’ wedding with much more pomp than he planned my first wedding. He talks proudly about my brother to all his friends. He supports me in my business by calling and asking if I am having cash-flow problems in the time of covid and that he could send some money. He wants to buy a house in Bangalore because he knows I am not going to. He is doing all the daddy stuff while doing all the life stuff he wants to. He is travelling, meditating, doing yoga, doing treks which put 20 year olds to shame, socialising with his college mates, helping people, eating healthy, reading, learning bhangra! He has reclaimed his life.

I have learnt a lot of lessons from this man and I don’t say that out loud often enough. I have inherited a very sharp brain from the DNA of this guy and my mum, an equally smart woman. I have inherited honesty, integrity and a spine to stand up for things I believe in. I have been taught how to fight, how to believe in things, how to change my belief systems when I know better. I have been taught the importance of duty and dharma. I have become a healthy eater, non-believer in medicine and a minimalist in my own journey but I see how big his influence has been. He has shown me how to do more with less. He has shown me that all you need to be happy, is you. It comes from within. And when you finally choose to do that, happiness opens like floodgates. I continue to learn from him. As an adult, I have hardly ever seen my parents as parents. I see them as individuals, humans - with their celebrations and flaws. And I will tell you that he inspires me as a human being. I wish I continue to grow, like he is doing even at 60.

I am so proud to have shared my life with this very supportive man - who never once told me that I was a woman. It changes everything for a young woman from Patna. That is perhaps the reason I have never realised it in my life. I do things as I would, without the so-called ‘you are a woman’ tag. Parenting is a tough job. No one gets it right the whole time. But this important lesson of not conditioning your children with the crap you were fed with, is critical. The Indian and Bihari society still makes it difficult for such men to stand up for their daughters. But like Gunjan Saxena’s dad and my dad, I hope there are many more men out there who believe that their daughters can, and will be anything they choose to be.

[thakurtho]

Regression

When I was a statistics student 18 years back, I learnt of regression for the first time. If I remember it right, it was a way of analysing data and patterns of the past to do future trend predictions.

When I grew up further, I experienced it differently. Today, it means to go back in the past, to a not so favourable place. It means to backtrack the many steps I took to move forward from that dark place. It means undoing all the time I invested in healing myself. And it happens in a flash.

I call it triggers. When someone does or says something to me or when something happens, and I feel an emotion that I have felt in the past and I would rather not feel again. It is something I have carefully dealt with and agreed to not have to revisit. But that one instance triggers me and takes me back in time. Before I know it, I start thinking exactly the same way that an older version of me did. I respond and react in that same old way - which is often detrimental to my current state of being.

No one else can know what triggers me, so there is no way to eliminate triggers. So how can we deal with these regressions?

I believe acknowledging that I have regressed is the first step. It is not my fault that I have. It is a place of fear and insecurity and no matter how deep I might have buried it, it still exists within me. So I allow myself to not feel guilty about regressing.

If the trigger is from a person I value in my life, it would be healthy to let them know what triggered me and why so they can be more mindful around me in the future.

And finally, I practise a quick healing mechanism. Getting out of dark spaces takes a lot of work on self. And when I am sent back to that within an instance, I tend to feel like all of it has been undone. It hasn't. The regression is temporary. My healing isn't. So I practise a quick fix healing mechanism that works for me - reading, music, meditation, painting, writing - whatever, to quickly get me out of that mindspace.

Working on yourself is an everyday task. Healing from your past is an everyday task. Keep moving forward. Let regression only be the statistical tool that predicts a beautiful future version of you.

[thakurtho]

Foot in the door

I don’t know what you are going through. I don’t need to. After enough life experiences, I know that it can usually be put into some bucket. Physical, emotional, professional, financial, legal, fatal or something else. Whichever bucket it is, if we don’t die, we live to tell that story. It becomes a memory, which gets told over and over. Till one day, we have healed from it and it becomes an emotionless narrative.

I have gone through many such experiences alone for long now. I always came out of the experience and healed. But looking back, I know it would have been a different if I had someone to share it with. I don't mean share the details, but just have someone to hold me when I was broken, confused, angry. Someone who wouldn't judge, ask, berate, advise. Someone who could just be there. I want to be that person for you.

I do not come to you right now to fulfill my longing. There is another time for that. I come today, to be with you. I don’t need you to fix us or give us attention. Us is doing fine. I am very certain of how I feel about you. I don’t need that validated. Even if you walk away today, never speak to me again and find me years later, my heart will still hold that love for you, intact.

I understand that perhaps you have not seen a love like mine before. My love is unconditional. I give. I have great force and energy within me and it is very powerful. You may find all of this disturbing, probably even distracting right now. But I need you to trust me. I need you to know I come to offer peace, calm and strength. I don't come for us, I come for you.

You are strong and independent. You don't need any help. But I am not coming to help. I am just coming to let you know that you aren't alone. I know you have not done this before. Neither have I. But I know it will be better together. I won’t talk, I won’t ask, I won’t touch. I understand space. I have dogs. I know I can hold, but not hug, go close, but not breathe over. They have bitten me, walked away, growled. I don’t want you to either walk away or bite me.

All I am asking you to do is to trust me. I am not pushing for time or attention. I am only pushing for you to open that door and let me in. Let me come and sit next to you, just be there. Do nothing. Talk nothing. I need you to open up to loving of another kind.

We will take it one step at a time. I will put a foot in the door. If you find my feet stinky, I will not move further. If it’s really bad, I will withdraw. But I will keep standing outside that door while you are on the other side. I am not leaving.

[thakurtho]

A see-through shell

I remember while in LSR, when I was just 18, I would have a lot of difficulty asking a friend to go to Amar Colony with me. That was just the local market. I was a Patna born girl in a Delhi hostel with a friend circle comprising of girls from Doon, Mayo, Loretto, etc. I am not sure if I had an insecurity about that then. Maybe I did. Maybe that’s what set in a fear of rejection in me. What if I wasn’t cool enough to hang out with. I didn’t know their music, their food, their culture. But I adapted real quick. I know that insecurity died a fast death. But that fear of rejection has stayed with me till date.

Professionally, I can handle rejection very well because I know how to disassociate my skills from me sense of being. But personally, this fear of rejection has probably hindered any real close bonds in my life. I can give without asking, without making anyone feel obliged or indebted. But I do not know how to ask. 

I get cold feet every time I travel. Because I will have to ask someone to pet sit. So I travel only when it is unavoidable. I feel hopelessly helpless when I fall sick. Because God forbid I have to ask someone to do things for me. So I have strengthened my immunity such that I don’t fall sick. When I had an appendix surgery, I was so alone that I got out of the hospital after 2 nights. Because I couldn’t ask anyone to stay with my dogs. I couldn’t bend over for a few weeks after that, to feed them. I figured how to slowly slide down the wall.

More recently, when I had another ankle injury, I couldn’t ask anyone to take me to the doctor. I got myself an auto, got a cast set, came back and then cried. A few years back, I had a numbing nerve pain on my right side. My hands were literally numb. But I couldn’t ask anyone to take me to the hospital. I drove myself. I must have cried inside the MRI machine. It’s a scary place anyway. I was just hoping throughout the drive that I don’t lose complete motor controls since that would be dangerous and irresponsible.

I don’t ask because the very few times I have asked, I have been met with rejections. The same cast time, I asked my shared pet parent friend to give all the dogs a shower. He said something so stupid, that I thought he could have just said a respectable no. I have shifted houses alone. I have gone for Christmas lunch alone. I have watched movies alone. I have gone through a divorce alone. I realise all of it wasn’t macho or the independent woman vibe. I needed help. But I was too scared to ask. And I am just trying to understand why.

The biggest one of these hesitations is to ask someone to hangout with me if I want company. I do not. Not even my girl friends. I wait for people to ask me. So whenever someone does, I am almost always free!

For a good part of my recent love life, if I can call it that, I was reduced to a place where I would ask. So many times. And was met with rejection every time. My self esteem had dropped to such a low that I had no shame in literally begging this man to spend time with me. Most often, that begging didn’t end too well for me in ways more than just the rejection.

That has now scarred me so deeply that every time I ask another man to hang out and he says no, I get triggered. I feel my self esteem get crushed, when it need not. It was probably just a harmless ‘let’s hangout another time’. But I cannot handle that. I don’t know how to.

I have arrived at this chicken and egg situation where I do not know whether I do not have any close relationships because I maintain this distance or it’s because I don’t have close relationships, I have become this distant. Maybe I never give a chance to anyone to get close because I never open up or get that comfortable with them to feel that we can take liberties of any sort. Or perhaps because of no close relationships, I don’t know that being a little comfortable and pushy with people is acceptable if you love each other. So I stay at an arm’s length.

I have also observed that this behaviour is most exaggerated for me in the case of men I might want to be romantically inclined towards, followed by female friends followed by male friends. I am the most comfortable blurring politeness boundaries with my male friends. Funny thing - I have mostly had male friends. So is it because they made it easy, or I had more of them and so I got used to it? But with men I might be interested in, it goes back to a dark place of self doubt. I have never asked my family for help either. They have almost never seen me need anything, or be weak in anyway in the 18 years I have lived away. Not because I haven’t been so, but because I have hidden it from them.

I don’t know how to fix it. All I do is try. I give people the benefit of doubt by hoping they do not reject. Slowly, I take a step forward. But once again, I get rejected and then I just get pushed 3 steps behind. It takes me that much longer to ask the next person or next time.

I realise I am in a shell which is transparent. I make it seem like it’s all there for people to see. And hence, I can make most people feel real close to me. But they can’t reach inside. It’s broadly inaccessible. I have made it so. My self preservation skills have reached such a level that I would rather be alone and distant in that shell than be hurt. And now I worry that I don’t know how to get out of that shell myself.

[thakurtho]

Love in the time of Corona

Sometimes, you are not prepared for who you are going to meet at all.

I swiped right. I do so very mindfully. But when he asked me why I swiped right, I could not think of many reasons. I had to go back, look at his profile, think a bit, and then realise there wasn’t one overpowering reason. I just did.

The conversations were smooth from the word go. He says he was being honest, but it is tough to believe someone who says that he was really hoping I swiped right and then goes on to give me more than 8 reasons of why he swiped right. He followed that up with many compliments, which as always, made me very uncomfortable. I dismissed it as trying too hard.

Initially, he came across to be this real attention seeking, but fun person. To be honest, I have known quite a few. He couldn’t stop talking. He is a great storyteller and I am a great listener. So our initial interactions were really mostly him talking, and me listening. I will tell you, that didn’t do too much to swing me into his favor. But it was quarantine. He was good remote company, so why not.

One of the things that really stood out was that he was pushy. He got right in. He didn’t ask me if he could call. For the most part. He just would. And we would talk, for hours at a stretch. Infact, he wouldn’t ask much at all. He sent food because he felt like. He made food for me, because he thought it was cool. It didn’t seem like too much too early for him. He didn’t care much about them rules. He did what he felt was right, irrespective of how others would label it. That, got my attention.

As his stories got more personal, I started putting together this person. He was smart, funny, witty, emotional, dramatic, kind, loving, loud, aggressive, gentle, unapologetic, gregarious, conscious, logical, focused, detached and more. Basically, I felt like I was describing me. Ofcourse, we have our differences. But it was like I found a match, after real long.

After over a month of romancing and desperately waiting to meet, we finally met. It was so comfortable and easy. We fit rather snugly - and not just in bed. There was this huge fear I had that maybe we will not have any chemistry after so much romancing. I am happy to say all those doubts were allayed, and how!

All my life, I have waited for my Shahrukh Khan. He is the guy who has absolutely everything packaged in - dance, drama, action, emotion and romance - the full deal. More importantly, he is ‘my’ SRK - which means, he is actually interested in being with me. I didn’t think I would meet anyone like that. This man is SRK, Elon Musk, Batman, Ironman and basically, all other fantasies I have had - wrapped into one. But whether he is ‘my’ SRK or not, remains to be figured. Long story short, I am in love.

A few days back, another old love from Bumble pinged me and was flirting like we normally would. But I wasn’t there. I didn’t feel like it. I almost felt like I was cheating on my own self. That, mind you, became a scary realisation. From being horribly monogamous all my life, I had just about started scratching the surface of free love and polyamoury. But somewhere, I went back to realising that perhaps I am a one person person - once I actually find the person.

With my past, I am super scared to actually think that this will last a while or go anywhere at all. But I would like it to, if he would like it too. Most men I have met in a while do not know what they want, do not want to commit. He isn’t one of them. He isn’t scared to find out how deep the rabbit hole goes. That, is probably one of the most attractive things about him.

So yeah, let’s see where this goes. We are HyperLoop people. We don’t believe in logical progression in matters of the heart. We are not scared of things moving too fast. Unfortunately, the odd timing that it is, I feel we are moving like a steam engine. I am hoping that this little snag will pass and it will be really steamy and loopy real soon. But if not, then so be it. Such is life.

I guess now I know why I swiped right - because I was destined to. He came unannounced, very quickly seized up a place in my heart. He came at a time when love was not making front page headlines at all. There was nothing perfect about this landing. But things happen when they do, for the reasons that they do. And I can only thank the universe for sending him along.

He is my love in the time of corona.

[thakurtho]

Am I ready?

Since I started dating last year, I have observed a pattern in my behaviour. I get really excited about some people. I have great conversations and interactions. And then, I start hyperventilating when the interactions cross a certain time or intimacy threshold.

I have literally spent most of my time in the major adult life of mine with male friends. I am too used to them feeding me with irrational female behaviour. As a friend, I usually listen, understand, reason. Honestly, I do find some of the behaviour irrational many a times. But it is all at the distance of being a third party observer.

Somewhere, I think that amount of information has made me extremely sensitive to what would qualify as that kind of behaviour. I suddenly become very conscious of how much I am pushing someone. I start weighing what I say and how I say it so I am not one of those people who usually make me cringe.

I am also quite sensitive to people. Hence, I know when they are not really in the mood for a particular conversation. However, due to lack of intimacy for the longest time, I am also not very confident about what could be a good conversation to have to even distract or make the person feel better.

Forget intimacy, due to lack of too many sustained people interactions outside of work, I have broadly lost touch with human emotions. I go under the metaphysical cover to deal with mine - changing perspectives about how there are bigger things to cry over or this is going to pass. I do feel - but I don’t usually share the feeling.

And then, there is that one final thing of being labelled all sorts of names in the last known closest human relationship I had. I am so scared of becoming that person again that I am wondering if I am any person at all right now. I am this automatic work machine who knows really well how to solve problems and perhaps save the world, but doubt if she knows how to save her own self.

I can be a great friend, a great person to hang out with occasionally. I am probably not the person people come crying to, because I don’t know what to do. I fear I have been rendered useless at any real human relationship. I might be a great, kind, sensitive person, but perhaps you can’t really expect too much from me.

I don’t know when I will be ready for intimacy of any sort. I don’t know when I will let someone in - actually, that’s easy - someone has to want to be let in :P But I don’t know if I will even find out when I am ready. So there’s one problem I don’t know how to solve.

[thakurtho]

Mummy, you done good!

I have thought about my mother’s journey many times, but this Mother’s Day, I thought it would be nice to simply document it.

My mum was married at 19, into a household which was culturally so so far away from the one she was raised in. She had her battles with marriage, as most women do. But this is the story of her as a mother, not as a woman, so let me focus on that - as much as I can, without tearing the two apart.

She had me at 20 - before her first marriage anniversary. No points for guessing I was an accident! A beautiful one though :P She finished her graduation like that. Then she had my brother during her post graduation. Thankfully, she had the support system she needed to finish her education, and go on to get a doctorate.

My memories of her when I was in school are varied. The time she got me admitted to the best school in Patna mid-term because she was determined to. She would get angry and impatient with us young children. I have a distinct memory of when she took my ironed school uniform, threw it down on the floor, stomped on it - and asked me to iron them again, because she was pissed with me. She has also made me cry and finish many of my meals.

She did a lot of single parenting in our early years when my dad was posted in Darbhanga and they took the call of her staying alone in Patna to finish our education. I can only now relate to how a young woman her age would have found it very difficult to raise children alone in a city like Patna. The men, the family, the judgement - she went through all of it alone - while I was busy being a teenager.

She was also my teacher in school for 4 years. Standardly, it would be assumed for that to be a suck all situation. But she made it cool. When I saw her through my friends’ eyes, my respect for her went up. She made it fun to be her student and daughter. I very proudly tell every one that she is way more schooled than me. Also, that she was a physics teacher - it’s only when I grew up that I realised that it remains one of the coolest subjects. She still continues to teach us physics everyday :)

For the longest time, till as late as 5 years back, she has been this person stuck between a rock & a hard place. My father wasn’t the easiest person to deal with when he was younger. And we were idealistic children who refused to relinquish our belief systems. Trying to get us to even talk was difficult. She would be the messenger in between. I now know how frustrating that is.

For sometime in between, she got confused about the expectations from her as a mother. I remember her telling me she got stuck in between being a mother & a friend - a pressure created by Farida Jalal when betiyans get jawan. She thought she failed at both those things.

My brother and my life choices have been far from what is considered normal. We were these poster children as kids that she was very proud of. But since we left home, we have both put our parents through fairly tough times. She would get mad angry and has done some crazy stupid things in that rage. But she didn’t stop believing in us. Through the toughest times, when everyone around us gave up - left us, said this fight wasn’t worth it anymore, she didn’t put down her weapons.

Today, she is the full time caregiver of her mother in law who is suffering from Alzheimer’s - in addition to her full time teaching job. I didn’t know how difficult that was till I experienced it in a capsule 4-5 years back. It is a very selfless place to be. She still gets annoyed, does silly things - but she remains true to her dharma - and for that, I hope she is blessed.

Through all of this, I know she suppressed many of her desires. She has a voracious appetite for life. A lot of that spunk was murdered brutally by the society, her husband, her family, her children, the system. But she has retained what she knew to be true. She expresses her love for life differently than mine - but I have to say that she has passed it on to me genetically. I am, a large part of the person I am today, because I learnt from her.

But the biggest part of the story is that she never told me that I was girl and I was expected to behave a certain way. Maybe she felt it, maybe she was tempted to, maybe in a moment of helplessness, she did. But she never meant it. She didn’t raise me to compromise my life. Even through my divorce, she must have felt it. But she didn’t really rub that in. In a country, where patriarchy is passed on through the mothers, she stood up and stood out. She might have had to settle for things less than what she wanted, but she didn’t ask me to do that. She taught me the best lessons in being a woman - without being a labelled feminist. That, has been the biggest gift she has given me.

Today, I can look back and say I have seen her transition as a person. Not just as a mother, but as a human being. She is that companion today who I genuinely want to include in my life - not because I am obliged to. We are not the hopelessly close mother daughter duo. We have our non-touchy feely space we have created. I deeply care for her. I have huge respect for what she is, has done and continues to do. Most importantly, she inspires me to become better everyday, because she does it herself. And I want to tell you that you did well as a mother.

[thakurtho]

My desires, today

I want to fall crazy in love

Live the Shahrukh Khan romance

Make the person feel special

Fight for attention and not take it for granted

Give unabashedly without maintaining a balance sheet

Learn and grow together

Have individual and shared journeys

Grow in the same general direction at the same pace

Where our minds expand as much as our hearts

I want to do things

Build, create, impact together

Have a shared sense of purpose and achievement

I want us to be those two unicorns that walk into any gathering and add magic to other lives together

Travel and discover new things

Not become a blob

Add joy and laughter to the mundane

Be present. Be mindful. Be kind.

Stay honest. Stay free.

Do things I don't want to because I want to share that journey, not because I am obliged to

Make up as passionately I fight

I want to be aware that this might not last forever and be ok with that. I don't want to drag it or hold on to it once the magic isn't there.

I want my partner to feel all of this. And add to these relationship goals.

I want to stay crazy in love. On most days.

[thakurtho]

Gratitude note

I am so so grateful to our landlord for making room for the financial hiccup. So grateful to sm for doing something for me that really no man has. Also thankful for the team who understands what pulling the weight literally means now. For having everything and not having to step out. Being comfortable. Being privileged. My bunnies. Family for getting closer. I am not sure if I am living my life in a daze, but this phase is going to pass. I am not sure when I will find things to be real or soon realise that my reality itself is hazy. Grateful for it nevertheless.

[thakurtho]

Bihari Bhaiya

Usually when people ask me where I am from, I say all over. That’s true because I have lived my conscious adult life in South, West & North of India while I grew up in the East. So I truly connect to each of these parts of the country and call them home. But where are you originally from? Where is your native? Well, to that, I answer that my native is Bihar.

I didn’t quite know while growing up, that most of what I was exposed to, was the Bihari way of things. It was the only way I had known the world, so that was kind of, the absolute truth. When I got out of Bihar at 18, I wasn’t expecting anything different in the world out there.

I don’t think I found them to be too different either. The places were bigger, the accents were different. But much of the thought process of the middle class was the same. Then I got to meet the other type of people, lots of types of people. They thought and behaved different. I absorbed everything like a sponge. I understood and appreciated cultures like they were my own. But I didn’t often own up to my Bihari roots back then. And people never found out. If they did, their reaction would be something I get even today - you don’t look/feel/talk/behave like one.

I do get tempted to ask what are they supposed to be like. But I know the stereotypes we are talking about. And it’s true, for the large part. I don’t know when I turned that ‘you don’t seem to be Bihari’ from being something I was ashamed about to something I felt cool about. I think by the time I went to Bombay, I started saying it out with pride - purely because I didn’t seem like a Bihari. So I was the cool Bihari. I was the agent of change - someone who could change perceptions. But I hardly realised what it was to be a Bihari.

After a few visits to Dilli Haat, I had realised there was such a thing as Bihari cuisine. Someone recently asked me there’s a state dance. I don’t know. People ask me about the languages, and that I can proudly explain about. There is no language called Bihari - newsflash. There are multiple other languages. Mine is maithili. I come from the Mithila region - where I think Sita was from. Also, Patliputra is where the heart of the Mauryan empire was. It’s really weird. I don’t think I can stake any claim to all of that and be proud of being Bihari. My version of Bihar is usually this sad shitty picture which I had experienced.

Bihar taught me one of my very early lessons - of how to ensure your own safety. It is almost like the survival in the jungle kind of trick. It has kept me well and safe all these years. I mostly, broadly, stay out of trouble - not at the cost of adventure or a ‘life’. It also showed me how to stay true to my world view, amongst a group of people who thought otherwise. Probably, it is the reason why I have always been so free in my mind and not truly cared about what others say or think. At first I didn’t understand them, when I tried, I still couldn’t. Eventually, I stopped trying. Then I moved out of Bihar, but I continued to not care too much about what they thought (purely in the context of changing my sense of being to ensure I don’t inconvenience the others).

Trust me, Bihar must have decent amount of culture I probably have no idea about. I love going back there. I understand those people. But as much as I understand anyone else anywhere. I don’t think I feel like I am ‘from’ there. I don’t think I am ‘from’ anywhere. It is truly everywhere. I can feel at home anywhere. It’s part of how I adapt.

But I like being called a Bihari. I still feel good that I can break some stereotypes for people.

PS: Bihari Bhaiya is what a theater friend of mine calls me. He is convinced that if he gets into a bar brawl and I am by his side, I would definitely channel my Bihari Bhaiya and beat a few of them to pulp!

[thakurtho]

Polyamoury paradox

Since I got over my 7-year love hangover last year, I have been trying to actively understand the concept of polyamoury. Here is where I am on this research today.

When I moved to Bangalore in 2010, I started hanging out with the then Bangalore LGBT gang. In 2011, is the first time I heard the term polyamoury. I took it out to be the freedom for the entire friend circle to be with each other, when they chose to be and no one really got upset or overly emotional. That’s ofcourse, my take away.

Since then, that concept came disturbingly close when Magic Man proposed being in a ‘menage-a-trois’ (a word I recently learnt from CB). I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Last year, when I got on to the dating scene, I was still my old one-man forever version of me. So I was looking for ‘the one’. The minute I started talking to someone, I would uninstall the app, focus all my attention to that person. Let that last for 2-3 months and then start over. This year, 2020, I broke out of that.

The reason that I did, was that I had learnt a lot in the last one year. It hit me that we were all in polyamorous relationships all the time. If I just deconstructed the word, it simply meant to be in love with more than one person at a time. Be honest, most of us have been there. No, we are not in relationships with multiple people perhaps. But we are definitely in love. Starting with our family, friends, ex lovers, colleagues. So much love.

But when it comes to a romantic relationship, most often, we choose to be with one person. I used to be that. I just didn’t understand how multiple partners can work. So I asked the people who were openly professing polyamoury to me of how it works. Would there be designated days? What happened if someone was feeling like shit but it was not their designated day, would they be allowed to call me? Would I leave the designated person on that day and go be with someone who really needed me. Would my designated person of the day understand that? There weren’t any clear answers. For the most part, it seemed people were just talking about polygamy and calling it polyamoury - basically have sex with multiple partners but be emotionally invested in one. I never understood that because for me, love & sex come in a package deal.

But I realised in my life in the last one year, that I really could love more than one person, with the same intensity. It truly didn’t matter to me how that love manifested. It didn’t matter if I couldn’t be with them all the time. It didn’t change the way I felt about them. Somewhere, I probably don’t want to be with all of them all the time. I have become very guarded of my space and maybe I want to be with me all the time. But I do want to share. With whomever it feels like, when it does. No, they are not at my mercy. They are beautiful individual beings of their own, not waiting for my love. But when we do exchange, we exchange all of it. There’s no holding back.

Is it possible? Is it ok? Can I deeply, truly, be emotionally and spiritually connected with so many people? Can I share or exchange everything I have with each of them? Will they get miffed if I don’t share something with one? Does it require a really deep understanding of love? Does it need for us to stop being insecure? Does it mean, each of us needs to be happy but want to love as much they could? Is it too hippy?

So many questions. I am on this path of discovery currently. I am happy. I am happy sharing pure happiness with everyone I meet. I do love them, dearly. I don’t feel the need to attach. I am really being true and giving in every interaction. I think I can safely say, that today, I am polyamourous - the way I thought it should be defined. Not platonic love and relationships, not just sexual encounters. But true, deep love and giving in that time and period when the universe brought us together.

[thakurtho]

Trust

While mopping my house, I had the inspiration to write about this one. My eldest, Zoe, has a habit of snapping at the mop every time my househelp mops the house. Without fail. I have been doing it for 5 weeks now, but not once has she so much as growled. She trusts me. But why?

I grew up understanding that trust had to be earned. I had to exhibit attributes to earn someone’s trust. It wasn’t something that could be taken for granted. After years of observing people, animals, heartbreaks, being fucked over, etc etc, I seem to believe something else now.

I don’t think trust is my responsibility to earn. It is, however, for me to give. I believe that I need to inherently be able to trust for me to trust. I thought my world view guilty unless proven innocent. But I realised it is not. Every time I get into a cab, I entrust someone with a delivery, I let someone else feed my dogs, I travel leaving them with someone, I give the keys to my house to someone, my debit card, etc - I am choosing to trust. It is me.

The person across, has demonstrated, over time, that I can trust them with more things that I currently do. I won’t hand over my debit card to a random stranger and ask them to withdraw money for me. Maybe they will, maybe they will rob me. But I will give it to someone I have known for a bit, just to know that they won’t take this money from me. But if I was in a wheelchair at an atm, I would probably ask someone, and know that they won’t probably cheat someone in a wheelchair. Interesting, isn’t it? Different contexts bring in different levels of trust.

That’s the point. Trust, inherently, is just to be given. Each of us start with our own starting points I feel and as people demonstrate certain behaviour over time, we increase or decrease the quantum of trust. Probably there is no such thing as a universal label of trustworthy. It is only a sum total of my behaviour toward one person - who considers me to be trustworthy. As a stranger, I will only inspire the level of trust the other person is capable of offering.

I have taken to trust more ever since I learnt this. Now, I go by the innocent, unless proven guilty worldview. I don’t assume by the way a person looks. I try and keep the vibes out of it as well. I really try and test the belief system that everyone has good inside them. If I treat them to be someone I can trust, they will try their best to not let me down. There was a dialogue in My Fair Lady to the tune of you treat someone like a flower girl, they will behave like that. If you treat someone like a lady, they will behave like one. Yeah, I quote really badly. It’s more like my version of the story. But whatever, you get the drift!

I don’t think I will still hand over my debit card randomly. Or maybe, I will - just as a social experiment!

[thakurtho]

You can either chase happiness & contentment or choose to find it in the present moment. Are you chasing or choosing?

Shweta Thakur

[thakurtho]

It just is. Or is it?

I have been having very long what I can broadly call abstract discussions with a lot of people lately. This particularly one, defined my world view a little sharply.

I had started learning about Lao Tsu and Taoism last year, thanks to JKD. There was this very critical bit that I took away from it. The system, exists. It just is. It’s bigger than me, and it is not controlled by me. I cannot, at a very spiritual level, change it. (This does not translate to one person can’t make a difference). The sooner I come to terms with this, stop trying to interfere in the hope to change it and see how my relationship with the system is, the sooner I will find peace. It changed how I saw the world. I realised and accepted that I had no control whatsoever. Control is an illusion.

Then while talking to Magic Man II, I saw his world view - which was pretty much but worded differently. The world just is. Everything just is. In this present reality, it exists. In this current chosen possibility, it is. I cannot deny it. I have to accept it. The sooner I accept, the more at peace I am. This, again, doesn’t translate to resignation. The acceptance, I have found to be liberating.

Once I accept the way things are, I know it doesn’t hurt me. I can stay equitable through that experience. I don’t get overly happy, I don’t get overly upset. It just is.

Now let me push the envelope a bit. Is it? There is also this larger realisation, that there are multiple possibilities in multiverses being played out, at the same time. To me, I visualise it like being on a rotating chair, and there’s that infinity circular screen around me. Depending on which direction I look, that possibility will play out. So when all of these possibilities exist, which one plays out, which direction do I look? It’s not chosen by me entirely either usually, but I do believe a little part I can play perhaps. But the larger believe is that it’s chosen randomly. Randomness, to me, is like an ultimate truth by itself.

By the nature of all of these possibilities existing, I believe none of them actually do. It’s just a reality that has played out for me. In a bigger ecosystem, it is just one of the possibilities still. So my reality, doesn’t really exist from that perspective.

So what do I do? Live a real, dispassionate life? Hell, no! I accept. I let it sink in, and act on it. While a lot of times, it might be a dispassionate response, often times, I also feel. I allow myself to do that. That, I feel, is me. That, is what I allow myself to contribute. Small, tiny part, not to interfere, but just to add a little flavor. It makes it more fun. I love fun!

[thakurtho]

Coming to terms with death

My rendevouz with death happened comparatively late in life. Usually, kids do exposed to death and I wonder how they process it. I am just grateful that I was old enough to process it. However, it was a journey to really come to terms with it.

My paternal grandfather’s death was the first one I experienced. Throat cancer. I was doing my post graduation by then I think. My parents had moved to Delhi. He had started living with them for proper cancer treatment. He was an avid reader all his life. A political science professor. Towards his end, the glaucoma in his eyes prevented him from reading. That’s when he started losing his battle. He was anyway quite old to fight this battle. But in one of those interactions, I remember him confiding in me and saying ‘I don’t want to die’. I found it strange. He was in his late 70s. He still had that much attachment that he wanted to just live through this painful cancer. It made me think. Are people ever ok with dying?

The second death I experienced was an untimely one. My paternal uncle. A freak medical ignorance case. It changed my father for good because he could never learn to forgive himself for being a doctor but not being able to protect his younger brother from death. But it was the first time I saw my father so broken that he was completely dysfunctional. I had to do things which normally he would have done. He took the call of removing my uncle from the life support after he was declared to be brain dead. He did that from home. He didn’t have the strength in him to come to the hospital. Everyone was a wreck. I went in to the NICU. I stood by my uncle, alone, when they pulled the plug. I did it to ‘see’ death. I wanted to see how life finally leaves the physical form. In his scenario, it was painless since he was gone before that. It was surreal. I didn’t know how to react. I remember being this hyper functional person when he was brought back home for cremation. I had very short bouts of tears. I was mostly running around figuring out the arrangements, making lemonade for all who couldn’t stop crying and ensuring that they didn’t get dehydrated.

My parents dogs died after that. I didn’t go back home for that. I feel bad about that now. I should have. But I am certain I acted with that knowledge then and that little nag is what taught me the lesson in life & death perhaps.

However, it was the year 2015 when I finally came to terms with death.

My maternal grandfather, who I was very close to, hadn’t been keeping well towards the end of 2014. I kept ignoring it for a while - I thought it was the usual old people sick thing. In Jan 2015, I decided to go pay him a visit. He was admitted to the hospital for the first time that day when I landed. I visited him. I played music for him. He asked me to play Marie’s her name by Elvis. I had all Elvis songs aside of that on my phone. I went back after 3 days. I thought he would get better. He hardly left the hospital after that. I remember the last time I spoke to him was in the midst of my theater practise. I was telling him about the play I was doing - Vagina Monologues. My nana was way too progressive for his times. And then, some days later, I got a call saying he is pretty much comatose. I went to visit him in the hospital. He wasn’t there. His body was, but he wasn’t conscious. He would have some bouts of what seemed like visions to me. His face would get twisted and eyes would roll like he was seeing the light. I put my pendant under his pillow in the hope of sending some energy. I left Calcutta. The night I landed back in Bangalore, he was gone. Midway during my flight I suppose. I didn’t go for his cremation. I went 13 days later for the other function that happens. I don’t know why I did it. But I did. Thankfully, my family didn’t judge me for it.

Sometime later, around August, my pregnant cat Leia, fell down my 3 floor balcony. I didn’t realise it. I was in my car, getting out of my house, and I suddenly looked right - for no real reason. And the reason was ofcourse to find my Leia hurt very badly. I picked her up, put her on my lap and started driving straight for the vet. I was beyond myself during that drive. I took Shinoy with me so I could be calm. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I didn’t see her missing. Could I have found her earlier? She got operated. Her children didn’t make it. She couldn’t survive the fall. I was alone at the vet all day through her surgery. I remember coming back to office for a bit, our biggest client till date got closed on that day. I went back. They asked me what I wanted to do with the body. I didn’t know. They said they could bury her by the tracks somewhere. I said ok. I didn’t know if there was anything I could do better. I lived in guilt. Of not noticing that my child was missing that morning when I fed the rest of them.

Later that year in Nov, I moved in to this house that I live in currently. Leia’s sibling, Luke, was an active little boy. I came to this house so that my cats could go out of the house. I found it cruel to keep them in an apartment, particularly after Leia’s fall. But what do you know? Luke got hit by a car and died on the road behind my house. My maid came in early morning shouting Luke Luke to me. She speaks only in Tamil, so I couldn’t really get what she was saying, but I was prepared for the worst in that short walk from my house to the road. There he was, splattered. Hit by a truck, perhaps. I asked her to stand there with him. I went back to my house, picked up an old sheet. I came back and picked him up. I coudn’t take him inside my house because I had other beings. So I opened my car, put him in the boot. I asked my office admin to come home with a rake. And then both of us dug up the small mud patch outside my house and put him there. For months after, I couldn’t drive past that part of the road, but I purposely did, in some twisted way of punishing myself. I would drive past to see how long that blood patch of his would be there on the road. I couldn’t forgive myself for moving into this house, and inadvertently causing his death. I had my other cats on the streets. I couldn’t stop worrying if they would meet the same fate. I felt responsible.

By the end of that year, beings really close to me were gone. I think I came to death then. I realised that I was too small in the scheme of life and death to think I could have caused or prevented anything. I absolved myself of all the guilt. I understood that there’s nothing more natural than death. I was always functional around death before that, but now I know the depth of that loss. It has made me appreciate the depth of that presence. I deeply understand that no physical form will pass before its time. When it does, it just will. We as humans don’t have any control over it.

I saw another very close death 2 years later. An uncle of mine - who had been my mausi’s love for 20 years. I dearly loved that man. He was battling blood cancer. I was making a trip to Calcutta to see him because he was sick. 2 nights before my date of travel, my mausi called at 1am. I dread midnight calls for this very reason. He was gone. I felt a jab of regret - of not making it in time. But the day I landed, was the day he came home for cremation. I stood by my mausi through that entire process - when her own children weren’t there. She was alone. And I realised, that is exactly why I was supposed to come. I absolved myself of my guilt. Truth is, things just happen the way they are supposed to. We need to stop beating ourselves for it. Somewhere between 2015 & 2018, my partner’s dog passed. I ensured I went with him to the vet when they euthanised him, even though his own family was there. I went with him to the farm where we lay him. I can’t take away anyone’s grief. But just being physically present for someone at the time when the body passes, is the strength that they need. I have started prioritising travel for death over everything. Everything else can wait, but that one moment in someone’s life has come. And we need to give it the due respect it deserves.

I celebrate life today. I live with the cognisance that anyone I know can die any day. Do I have unsaid things to them? Do I have undone things? Can I do more with every minute that I share with people and beings? I let my dogs sleep in my bed after this year - realising that someday, they will be gone as well. I might as well snuggle as much I can today. Screw the fur in my bed. I mended my relationship with my immediate family and the people in my family I care about. I have Marie’s her name on my phone. We have put a bereavement leave in our HR policy.

Steve Jobs said live like you are going to die tomorrow and ensure you are doing everything that you love before that, everyday. I do that now. Be present. Wherever my life is taking me, I find reason and purpose. I give it what I got. Everything is ephermeral. All we can do is be present while it lasts.

[thakurtho]

What happens after the pandemic?

I have been observing people and their behaviour while on this lockdown. Everyone is so ‘domestic’ suddenly. They are all appreciating these low-line workers. Those who are still working are the warriors. And we all thank and celebrate them. But wait a second, they were doing these things earlier as well!

I have this theory, that disasters bring out the best in people before they go back to being assholes again. Most people don’t care on a daily basis. But they get mobilised during catastrophes. We definitely need more hands on deck during the time of emergencies, don’t get me wrong. I am just wondering where is this empathy on a daily basis.

Men are currently helping out with household chores. They are suddenly realising how much effort their women have to put. But mind you, this share wasn’t an everyday affair. Everyday, women fight this home vs work battle which doesn’t seem to exist for men at all.

The cleaners and workers do our dirty work everyday. They are exposed to a very high degree of health risks. The guy who goes into the drains, the guys who collect waste - think about all of them in India. They don’t have much protective gear usually. No one is giving them sanitisers on a normal basis.

We don’t normally care about dumping a little extra on our househelp every now and then. Today, when we are doing it ourselves, we suddenly realise how these people, sometimes older than us, are doing it every day. Most of these menial job workers are doing their thing today, not because they are heroes, but because they won’t have food at home if they don’t. They don’t have the luxury of a lockdown, if I may say.

We certainly mostly, don’t give a fuck about the environment. People can’t stop going gaga about dolphins on Italian shores. But climate change is a reality that’s been there. Yes, this one act makes us pause and notice, only because people don’t have much to do!

I am happy people are having these realisations. I am just hoping that they will hold on to it even when the pandemic is over. Empathy and kindness is an everyday thing. It’s not that single malt reserved for a special occasion. Let’s make room for people and beings around us. It doesn’t take away from anyone to be present, mindful and concerned in that small interaction. A little awareness that there exist more beings in this world other than my tiny self, will help the survival of this species. Else, we are headed a path of mindless self-destruction. I fear that even after all this knowledge and progress, we will be the most ignorant species in terms of survival.

[thakurtho]

The lonely concert

This is back in 2004 when I was in second year of LSR.

The backstory to this incident is that I was I had a gang of girls in the college hostel. I didn’t quite connect with the local Delhi girls much. It was perhaps due to an inhibition of some form that I came from Bihar. I didn’t wear my Bihari tag with pride back then. So my only friends who I could chill with were the girls in the hostel.

We had a falling apart - about something so ridiculous. That’s when I realised what the female dynamics can really be like. That story, for another time. So I had no friends but one. She would later become my girlfriend. That story for another time too. But this one friend was busy with some other girl. So I had no one at the time of this story. As dramatic as it sounds, it felt true then.

This was Tarang time - our annual college fest. The only time when testosterone in that quantity is let into the pristine LSR gates. So there were a lot of people. This was the time girls brought in their boyfriends to show off. So that energy of everyone having someone played really hard on me. I had invited my brother but I didn’t want to hang out with him because it was so miserable for me - that crowd.

Indian Ocean was performing. I didn’t quite know about them then. But I couldn’t watch the performance. The whole day I was restless, walking around the campus alone, people watching and then going back to my hostel room and passing out. Finally in the evening, I got out, a bit too late for the concert. It was over by the time I got in. I was sitting right at the back of the basketball court on the steps. I was almost in tears. There were so many people! Not one with me. Not one who knew me. My brother walked up to me to ask an innocent question - why are you sitting alone? I said, just. And told him to leave, because had he stayed longer, I would have cried. I did cry, alone. That’s what I do till date.

But this one concert is so iconic in my memory. It has since then induced a fear of large crowds. I get uncomfortable going to concerts, performances, fests - because I end up feeling alone. Things changed in the last few years when I finally started to go to performances alone, enjoyed it and came back.

I also realised what being alone meant for the first time in my life. Till then, I hadn’t truly experienced it. I have been living it for most of my life in the last 10 years. I have grown to be comfortable with it only in the last 3. But that feeling is so sickening. When I look back, I know I could have focused on so much more. I was focusing instead, on how happy others looked with someone they had with them - to share that happiness. And how I must be so miserable because I didn’t have anyone to share it with. But I learnt a life lesson that time. The first one about being alone.

Over time, I have embraced it. I don’t feel bad that I don’t have anyone to share things with. I know it will be more fun if there was someone. But it’s not a missing piece. My happiness exists independent - and hence, I can share it with someone. My happiness doesn’t come from the existence of someone else.

Since then, I have wanted to watch Indian Ocean perform live. I finally watched them in 2011/12 NH7. I went to the fest with my friends, felt horribly alone - that story for another time too. But I watched their entire performance. Pretty much alone. And I cried and I cried while watching them perform. It was cathartic. It was beautiful. I have watched them perform a few times after that, I cry everytime. It’s their music and what it represents in my life.