Friday, March 9, 2007

Six Billion People In This World; Not A Friend In Sight

A few days ago, I went to the lunchroom around noontime, only to find that the usual lunch crowd was missing. After waiting for them for a few minutes, I opened a newspaper lying close by and began munching on my lunch. After all, eating alone was not new to me. Besides, this crowd with whom I had my lunch comprised primarily of my male coworkers, who, I knew had a habit of disappearing.

In a few minutes, another colleague came by hastily, carrying an enormous lunch box.

“Where are the others?” He asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. I waited for them for a while, but I was too hungry and could not wait anymore. Seems like they are off to somewhere.”

“Oh, but I will have to wait for them.” He said, frowning, and went over to the phone to call and see if anyone was around. After trying for a few minutes he came back and sat restlessly, staring at his lunch box. I watched him from the corner of my eyes as he made two more trips to the phone, hoping to reach someone, but, apparently, without luck.

“So, are you going to start your lunch?” I asked watching him sigh and sit down on a chair across me.

“Yeah, I guess!” He said, opening his lunch box reluctantly. “You know, when I find myself alone like this, I get scared. I feel as if there is some action going on somewhere and I am not the part of it. I feel left out!”

I smiled and said nothing but, secretly, I was amazed. I never expected an obviously popular man like my colleague to harbor this insecurity. In fact, he was one of the people who were always surrounded by a crowd.

Maybe it’s not just me, I thought, as a flood of memories came back. I remembered the bitter, lonely teenage years when I was ridden with social anxiety and self doubt. I remembered how I used to torture myself for not being able the gel in large groups the way I wanted to gel. I would compare myself with the others and inevitably come to the conclusion that they had a rocking social life, while I was the one left out. So much so, that sometimes I would suspect, it was some kind of a cosmic conspiracy aimed at alienating me from the world! I used to think, there are six billion people in the world, and there isn’t a single friend in sight for me.

My evenings used to be spent brooding alone over how pathetic state was. My mornings would begin with a dread of going to the school and facing my peers who were sure to be unkind to me. Eventually, I had built this fear up to a point that it was impossible for me to go out and perform any group activity without judging myself every single time, in every single act. Sadly, while participating in any activity, my focus was more on how I involved myself in the group, rather than how I performed in the activity.

To put things into perspective, I am not a sociopath. I don’t think I have ever had any habits that might have been annoying or disgusting. In my later life I found out that I have reasonably good communication skills and am told that I have a good sense of humor. In fact, I like being around people. I like to observe and help others and even try to lend an ear in their difficult times. When I am in the right mind, I do come across as friendly and confident.

But in all fairness, my fears have not entirely been baseless. There has always something different about me and I don’t mean this in a boastful way. That’s just the way I have been. In my entire life, I have never quite ‘fit in’ anywhere. Consciously or subconsciously, I have always been the one to stand apart from the crowd and not always has this been a pleasant experience. Coming from a family of cultural fence-sitters, I was never cast in a mould. I was neither a traditional Indian girl, nor a modern, westernized one. I was neither studious, nor callous. I was neither a vagabond, nor a conformist. I was interested in arts, but was not an artist. I was interested in science but was not quite logical in my thoughts. I loved to experiment with things, but never had the patience or perseverance to take anything to culmination. I was flighty in my attention and unsure about my destination.

I would tend to get extreme reactions from the people I interacted with. Some absolutely adored me, others considered me distant and conceited. Then there were some who just did not want to have anything with me and others who sought me out. I seemed to make some people uncomfortable in my presence but make others feel secure.

The reason for my distress, unfortunately, was that I never had a panoramic view of my interactions. I would tend to concentrate only on the negative ones. I would blame myself for evoking negative feelings but never appreciated the way I was when I drew a positive reaction. Later in life, when I began my recovery, the first step to accepting myself just as I am, was, in fact, developing a broader view of life.

Now looking back, I realize, even during those difficult times, I did have a few loyal friends who stood by me. In their company I would feel secure and comfortable. I was, in fact, incredibly possessive of them at times. As I remember the time I spent with them, I am amazed how these people could love me in spite of my insecurities and mood swings. I feel thankful that these people are still my closest friends and we still share the same kind of bond.

But, at that time, I did not realize their value. Until much later in life, I never understood that having only a few but loyal friends is far better than having several fleeting relationships. I did not understand that the so-called popularity of many of the people I was jealous of, was, in fact, a mirage. People used the crowd around them as a way to hide inherent insecurities and mutual distrust.

I tried several things to become popular. I tried to be dominating, pretended to be gregarious and outgoing. I took on many masks to impress people. I tried to feign friendships. But somehow, I think, through these pretensions and masks the internal hollowness showed through. I never had any success with being someone I was not. And all this only exacerbated my distress.

So what was it that made me change?

I don’t think it was something as dramatic as an epiphany or a eureka moment that transformed me overnight. But, I do remember one day when I sat brooding, a thought appeared in my mind - this has to stop. This is not a way to live and I am not going to live like this anymore, I decided. Whether this was because the scale of my distress had tipped beyond the point of endurance or whether maturity was finally catching up with me, I don’t know. But I knew, from that point on, my emotional journey from being an insecure, self doubting person to being a confident, secure, independent person had begun. However, from that moment to this was a long journey, fraught with several setbacks.

As the determination to change the way I was living became strong, the first thing I did was to take a long, hard, objective look of the situation. I asked myself a few questions – was I really as pathetic as I made myself to be? Did I have any bad or annoying habits? Was I doing something I should be embarrassed about? Or, was there something wrong with the world that I lived in?

It was then that I realized that there was nothing wrong either with me or with the world. What was wrong was my attitude, my way of looking at things. My habit of focusing on the negative and a lack of faith in myself was creating a domino effect in my mind, leading to extreme insecurity and acute distress. It was me and not the circumstances I was in that were making my life miserable. If I was to have any hope of getting over my insecurities I had to work on internal independence. Only when I was independent emotionally would I be able to treat others and more so, myself, fairly.

A major hurdle to be surpassed was to train myself to stop be judgmental for it was my habit of constant judgment that made me self conscious. This habit of mine was not allowing me to be natural and truthful in my interactions. My self consciousness made me unsure and nervous and I was prone to saying and doing things that annoyed others. Once I started giving myself breathing room, my interactions began expressing my natural charm and loving nature. Even if I made a blunder, I could overcome it quickly. Slowly, gradually, my confidence increased and so did my emotional independence.

As I learned to accept myself just as I was, an astonishing thing happened. I began seeing other people, not as my superiors but as people just like me. I could see them for what they were. I could see that most people shared the same insecurities as I did. What everyone needed was a little love and respect, just as I needed it. I learned an important fact of life – you would receive unconditional love, only when you are able to give the same to others. Slowly, I was learning the maxims of independence and interdependence and how they were mutually related.

There is a long way to go and I still fall into the trap of self judgment once in a while. The insecurities raise their ugly head sometimes. But then I remind myself a song I heard many years ago

Tum besahara ho to kisika sahara bano
Tumko apne aaphi sahara mil jaayega

(If you don’t have someone to lean on, be someone on whom others can lean. You would get support automatically)

I hope my ability to love transcends all boundaries so that no one amongst the six billion people in this world can say that there isn’t a friend in sight. For there will always be at least one – me.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Of Life and Death

So here I am, back again, admittedly, after a long, long time since I did any sensible writing.
Life has changed a lot during this time. First, there was the news of Ammi's death and coinciding that, a new revelation - the awareness of a new life growing inside me.

So this is what living is about, bracing death and embracing life! As Ammi's memories fade, the anticipation of this new life inside me grows. Each day I metamorphose from a young woman to a mature woman and I find out what motherhood is all about. It is not for nothing that women crave for motherhood to the point of becoming obsessed and insane. To an extent, I was all that myself.

As I prepare for motherhood, I discover things within me which I never thought were present - patience, forbearance and an ability to give unbounded and unconditional love. I seem to be in love with everything and everyone in sight. There are times when I feel I am a mother to the entire world. I can forgive anything. I cherish everything. Each day dawns with an edge of lustrous hope and ends with a nurturing coolness.

There is something new every day - the awareness of the tummy growing just a bit, tiny swishing movements in the womb, appreciating the lustre of the skin and if nothing else, admiring the beauty of my shapeless body and dreaming about a shapely future.

It's not entirely glorious for dark clouds of fear hang somewhere on the horizon. Will everything be all right? Will the baby be safe and healthy? Will I be able to face the challenges life will pose? Will he inherit the problems in my life or will he carve his own future in the soft darkness of time?

But then this is what it is all about, right? After death came life, after darkness came light, after winter came the spring. The living will have to go on, rising on the cadence to the crests and falling to the depths of the troughs, only to rise back again and again. The game will go on until the players are there and once its time for one of the players to go, a new tiny player will be born to take on the mantle.

The saga of life and death will continue to the end of the time.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Goodbye Ammi

After living a long and colorful life of 81 years, you passed away on December 21st - my birthday.

Is this just a coincidence that the day of my birth should be the day of your death?

Maybe it is, or maybe it was a tribute to the strong attachment we share - a bond which has lasted across decades, miles, generations, and now, lifetimes.

Ammi you will be missed forever...

Friday, December 8, 2006

Freedom

Its been so long since I have written that, once again, I find myself stranger to words. Last time I wrote, I was angry with God. In a four line poem, I denounced Him, challenged Him, questioned Him and at the same time, begged Him to be kind.

He listened, kindly. Even though he had better things to do than to pay attention to the mindless ranting of a nameless, faceless woman, who probably has no better role in the scheme of things than a mote of dust has in a sandstorm. The mote plays its part in the destruction of the old landscape and re-creation of the dunes, but by itself, it has no identity. Perhaps, it shouldn't have any. For if every spec of dust had a mind of its own, the sandstorm as a whole would have no meaning.

But a mind of my own I have. Although, I don't understand he scheme of things. Yet, I find myself being dragged in the whirlwind of this life, thrown this way and that, all the while demanding to understand, demanding to change the direction in which I would be hurled next time.

Funny thing is, occasionally, God listens and I find myself thrown in the direction I asked to go. But once I get there, I never know what to do. Then I am as lost as I was before. The worst thing, perhaps, is that either I have to grapple with the fear of losing the place where I have arrived or that place is not what I had imagined it to be. I try to control my destiny, but only to find that destiny controls me. And she is a veteran at the game.

Does every blade of grass, every leaf on the tree, every spec of dust have a destiny of its own? And how do they deal with something as "bad" as annihilation of their being? If one leaf falls earlier than the others, if one blade is trampled upon, if one spec is smothered, do they just accept it as it is or do they complain in their own language to the God who created them? Isn't it the nature of the universe to accept what is, as is? Then why should we human beings be any different? Why do we challenge, question and judge everything, all the time?

I wonder if, with all our talks of freedom, human beings are the most fettered creatures of all. We are, and since time memorial have been, in the clutches of our own desires and fears.

So what is it that would set us free? Acceptance or judgment? Surrender or fight? An ability to die when asked to die or an ability to struggle to live?

Many questions these are. But then, am I really free to question?

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

God

I just need a single success
You need to thwart a million attempts

Won't there be just one time
When you'd fail to be watching?

Wednesday, November 1, 2006

Cycle

The leaves fall off
With the call of the fall
The blood runs out
With last dregs of hope

The womb lay still
Empty, yearning
The cold settles proud
On the raw, naked branches

Another winter, another episode
Of long, frigid waiting

And then it just ended
Just like it began
Even the waiting
Had to just stop

Life was to be lived
Once, once more
Little fists had to curl
In the once empty womb
Little leaves had to sprout
With a statement of hope

A cycle it was, and always has been
The winter comes, so does the spring

Tuesday, October 3, 2006

101

"So you quit blogging, right?" He said
"No! Why would you think so?" Me, bewildered
"Well, you don't write anymore"
"Of course I do!"
"Yeah Right!"

Interesting, I have this conversation when this is the 101st post on this blog. A cause for celebration? Maybe! But I have never counted how many posts I wrote. I just found out that this was the 101st post by looking at the dashboard. And now, if one were to measure how many of my posts made any sense, 101 would seem quite a tall number. Right?

Writing for me has always been an unconscious activity. Many times I have written and reread my own work only to ask myself, what the hell did I just write? It has never come by force and, like all other aspects of my life, I utterly lack the discipline in writing.

Many times I have written in the middle of fixing a tough bug, or even during meetings. Just like that, out of nowhere, words float into my mind and form patterns, these patterns then whirl around and acquire meanings and all I do is just jot them down. How many times has this been an act of volition? I can never tell.

I have tried in vain to be a disciplined writer and ended up being a self conscious one. During such writing "sessions" I sit in front of the computer and stare at it for the prescribed duration and then doze off. Not a single word comes at my beckoning but when I least suspect, words come in torrents and continue to come until I pour them out.

Some people in this world actually like my writing and many times I have been told by them that I should take my writing further. They tell me I should try to be a published writer. But honestly, I don't know what this "further" means and I have no clue how and why would anyone publish any of this.

This is who I am. This is the best I can be. Now if someone decides to publish it, be my guest! You call this lack of ambition? I call this freedom, for words will sprout and take root to form a beautiful landscape only when they are allowed to waft free.

So, who should I dedicate this 101st post to?

I dedicate it to you, the patient reader and to her - that silly Arundhati, who lives inside me, and who still chooses to dream...