100 days of lockdown

Apparently today is the 100th day of lockdown. Lockdown has been terrible for so many people in terms of losing jobs, increase in responsibilities, being stuck in abusive situations and what not.

I am privileged enough to not have to have go through any of these. After naming these things, it feels wrong to write the following, but I think it is part of validating my experience, with the acknowledgment that I am one of the privileged ones.

This lockdown could have gone terribly for me. I generally hate staying at home. Even on weekends, I would get myself to go out for a walk, just to step out of the house. When it started, there was so much despondency. What is the point of me doing HRI research when the world is literally dying in a pandemic?

But somehow things changed. The lack of outside contact, the stability and unchanging nature of my presence helped more than it hurt. I wrote 30 days of poetry. 30 days. That's insane. It forced me to accept imperfection. It made me realize that all that matters is that I wrote something, refining can come later. It made me realize that of course, there were going to be some terrible poems when you try to write one everyday, but then some good ones turn up out of nowhere too because of the consistent effort.

I am sure this contributed to my attitude to research as well. Being at home made me accept my bad days. I knew I couldn't go to a coffee shop for a change in scenery. Or go to my lab to be around familiar people. I had to deal with myself. And years of therapy suddenly worked, and I knew that the only way to deal with myself was to accept myself. For once, I just let myself be.

For months and years, I've struggled with the feeling of not being productive enough. Sure, I did accept and stood by the fact that I can't work more than 40 hours,  I refuse to work on weekends, and all the other activities I do are as important as research to me. But being only at home, post acceptance of myself, when I actually stopped fighting the feeling, I found myself eventually and naturally going back to research. I found my curiosity showing up, and the will to actually get things done, the excitement that got me to do my PhD in the first place. Yes, there were bad days where I felt really miserable and barely worked. But apparently, I felt worse than my week actually was. Tracking time has been really useful for me to have actual proof of what my contribution was. Clearly, my brain exacerbated how I was not good enough, not productive enough, and I had numbers to prove my brain wrong.

This summer has been terrible in certain ways. The year started looming with sexual harassment only to reach a place where the country was literally burning because black lives were considered insignificant. They finally arose, and so did some of the people who haven't faced such discrimination, to shout out louder even more than before, that Enough is enough. Someone said "They should be lucky we are asking for equality and not revenge." Those chilling words rang through my heart - as my boyfriend said, their request is embarrassingly small. They can ask for the whole world to burn down, and it would be fair.  No amount of burning can make up for the amount of discrimination the black population have gone through in the last 400 years. These incidents also brought to the fore how dismally native americans and hispanic/latinx people have been ill-treated over time. I thought my heart could not break any further and yet here I was.

I was ready to burn down the world. I was angry, I am angry, and this anger weirdly feels therapeutic. It reminds me that I am not apathetic. Yes I am a scientist, and especially because of that, it is my job to fight for basic human rights, to fight against the privilege I have been granted over the years, to fight for the discrimination I have gone through the years. I have found myself moving forward despite all the pain. How, I do not know. I had been stuck in the same place, going around in circles for 4 years now, so close to wanting to not live in this world, so aware of it, that I fought against it. That fight seemed hopeless. That fight felt like it did not exist.

But I now realize it did. I was always fighting for myself. I did not give up on me. For the first time, I made all those changes for myself, I accepted my personhood. For the first time, I believed I mattered, my feelings mattered, my WANTS mattered. I didn't just settle for crumbs that helped me survive. I didn't realize it but I wanted to live.

It is not that things are not hard right now. I still struggle with my mental illness. I still struggle to come to terms with it, that it may be a lifelong thing. I worry about what it means about me as a person, what it means about the life I am bound to live. Living with mental illness in your closest family that lasted for almost 2 decades does that to you.

I know I am fighting back in some obvious ways, but in others, it doesn't quite feel like it. But for the first time, I believe that I am. For the first time, I believe that I deserve to live. For the first time, I want more than I am given. It's the 100th day of lockdown and I finally SEE myself. I exist.

Music memories in the brain

I've gone down this memory lane route a couple of times the past few months, where I've been listening to songs from my college time and work time on repeat. It reminds me of romantic times, where there was the hope of love, the hope of acceptance, and the hope of just being free - of being able to run away from decade long issues that I had never dealt with. I think all I did in college was run far far away from all the sorrows of the two decades past.

And it also reminds me how much I did IN FACT love bollywood music. Like damn, this song is so catchy, I loved listening to it every time it came on TV. I loved the colors, the places, the expressions, these songs clearly act as timestamps to parts of my life. The movies are impossible to watch, because inevitably they will be an all round cringe fest. And yet, there is a teenage version of me, that continues to feel all those unrequited feelings, that I had hoped for the longest time, would finally be requited.

It's weird that the more years that pass, the older you grow, you realize there are so many parts to yourself, attached to specific years, those nuances that seem pretty much non-existent, until you listen to these songs, and that hope, that yearning, and that romanticism comes back out of nowhere. (This is unfortunately also true of bad memories, where all it takes is one smell, one song to take you back but I'm currently enjoying the happiness, so gonna punt on that).

Honestly, these are the things that make me curious about the brain, about learning about memories, about how these things get stored in your hippocampus, waiting to be retrieved in the right moment, and releasing all the emotions associated with them as well. *Sets reminder to read books/papers about music related memories in the brain*

This is where I think (in these good moments, I must emphasize again), I would like technology to be able to store these memories. But I also know, the main reason that these memories feel so fond, is because it has been so many years, I have forgotten the awkwardness, and the loneliness associated with these times.  All that pain I pushed away, despite the fact that it came to bite me in my ass recently, I don't regret it.I think for what it was worth, I tried living in the moment. I think there is some joy to the idea of fleeting time. Of both living in the moment, and not feeling like you're quite living that life, as though you are inhabiting it as an outsider. It was a weird feeling to be completely accepted for someone I was not. Haha. I think just saying that feels so weird. What a conundrum that must have been, to not be able to put that feeling into words, like I can now - 10 years since then. To establish your lone self, and yet wait for  someone to see through you, the real you and tell you they like you the way you are.

I enjoyed the college festivals, I discovered my love of live music, I discovered Pearl Jam! I learnt how I had this social side I could totally leverage to know tons of people. I remember laughing a lot when I was in college. I miss having jam sessions with my classmates, I think there was an intimacy to that feeling, to knowing that people stayed back just for the music, to be able to sing, to feel completely vulnerable in a weird moment, while still worrying whether it was scary to give all of yourself in. Now I think I have found that vulnerability and belonging in research, in learning, among people who seem to love and want to know more, but I still can't stop craving the music part of it. Now that I have identified it,

Here's a song that definitely pulled at my heartstrings, which brings out so many confusing feelings, from enjoying the song, of wanting to belong, of  the yearning to be desired and being able to sing this song wholeheartedly. Maybe I ought to celebrate that I'm finally okay accepting that I can feel multiple unrelated complicated feelings at the same time.

The year of hope: Part 2 - Ft. Antidepressants, Anxiety and Me

2018 is over. I am still alive. (Here's some context.)

And that is very telling of this year. This year has been exhausting. Physically, politically, academically and emotionally. It felt like I was dragged through this year, always attempting to jump through a hoop that was always too high.

Tried to run away but I stayed put;
Tried to stay put but my mind kept running;
So I surrounded myself with a general numbness;
That didn't help either.

And therefore, after all this struggle, I had to finally accept that I do have anxiety; quite a bit of it. I have suffered from it for 3 years at this point. It explains the perpetual mess in my room, the inertia to wash 4 vessels, being unable to get myself to take 10 steps towards the shower, the constant overplanning in my head for seemingly stupid things -- all these things that are so unlike me; and yet they have been me. I wrote about it a few months ago. I thought putting a name to it would help it vanish. Alas, that was not meant to be.

And that's when Mr. Andy Puddicombe came into the mix. For the uninitiated ones, he is the voice of the trending app Headspace, the one that makes meditation sound cool. For years, I dismissed meditation, even though I have parents who have sworn by it, even though I knew it did not have to be religious. But mindfulness meditation seemed to be the only thing that got me breathing again when I choked with panic during anxiety attacks. So, I began the "Managing Anxiety" series with the intent of finally saying goodbye to this nasty piece of shit. But in the very first few days, his words were "You are building a relationship with anxiety, you are not trying to get rid of it." Oh well, that plan was ruined. And I gave up.

But then, anger reared its ugly head. Anger I have never been familiar with before, anger I have always suppressed just beneath the layer. It's the worst kind of anger too, anger at my own self. I learned not to hate myself, not to be unkind and yet I did not know how to release this anger, which led to a lot of self-harm thoughts. Never as a real plan, but more as an outlet, just to escape this feeling of being stuck.

And thus, I was prescribed anti-depressants. Which led to more anger. But I needn't have fought it so much. I was suddenly focusing again. Not losing hours in fear. Not waking up feeling miserable. I do have productive days generally, but I don't remember the last time I could begin working sooner rather than later, when I didn't spend hours drafting a mail, when I didn't hate myself when I got to bed because of a wasted day. And out of nowhere, it was working. Now, I know that medicine doesn't help resolve all things because clearly despite it, when things started resembling a Rube Goldberg machine, it was as though I was back to where I was, running away from everything. But, at least the good days help me get by, just a little. I would give anything for that "just a little".

More so now than ever, given I am taking my prelim exam the second time in the next two weeks, after having failed the first time in May. It is hard not to deal with all this foreboding. As I said sitting on the proverbial therapist couch, I just feel like I have all this potential, all this belonging, all this love for the work I am doing, that seems to be going to waste because of the damned A-word. But I am not ready to give it up.

I was talking to a friend a few days ago about all this, who on listening, told me about positive visualization. Positive visualization is when you visualize how you would feel when you succeed at something you've been worried about, imagine that feeling in all its glory. Her unbeatable logic about doing this, is given how much energy we spend thinking of all the negative what-ifs, why not spend quarter of the time thinking the other way around? Ironically and obviously, the What-if monster came right back up. I pushed it away and tried imagining how I would feel if I did pass my prelim exam. Well, as is typical of me I have this whole speech for my advisor written up in my head about how thankful I would be to him. Here's where I wished I believed in God. Believed that they would ensure I am fine. But maybe for now, I am my own God, my own torturer, my own believer.

This is not to say that I did not have a few good days or a few good weeks.

I saw one of my closest friends, someone who knows the ins and outs and all possible details of my life after 4 years. And that I have met her all of one time ever in my life and yet she means so much to me, that's incredible. To actually take a vacation, explore places and know that we aren't terrible when we are in person together was quite the relief.

I settled into the idea that my sister is around. The couch in her very comfortably lit living room has become an unruinable haven for working, the two attempts at my prelim from that couch are attestations to that. With her around, I got to celebrate Diwali for the first ever time since I came to the U.S. My God, I could cry. Diwali defines happiness in very inexplicable ways, and to do all that I associate with Diwali felt unbelievable.

And of course, my first ever publication. It was just a workshop, and just an extended abstract. And yet it felt unbelievable. They felt so familiar, I had read and referred to their papers so many times. That workshop made me feel and believe that I belong, in this community.  That is a feeling I can't quite ever get over. I want more of this, so much more. really really really am looking forward to more of that, I really want to use that to fuel my working in the future.

I started meditation again too. Even though my mind jumps hoping for immediate relief, I tell it to be patient and to be kind. I thus learned to slow down this year, which mostly manifested itself in my music, which was beautiful. I was able to let go, get out of my head, believe that I know the notes, and just sing, without worrying whether I would reach the high notes, or how my voice would sound. I just sang. It has been years, years since I sung that way. Though bad habits are hard to break, this one seems to be on its way to be broken.

This also showed up in my relationships. I realized that showing my vulnerabilities, make things better. I am no longer scared of people leaving me. I still have pent up anger about a few people I had to leave, but it seems more like anger at myself, that I hope I can iron out over time.

I read more than 30 books this year. All because of 15 minutes in the morning with Coffee, and 15 minutes right before bed. It got me through the worst of my anxiety, provided the escape I needed, the calm I sought, and brought my second favourite hobby back in the groove.

The last time my new year's post had this title, the year bent over backwards to ensure all hope was broken, or at least attempted to. I don't want to be superstitious about titles. This is indeed another year of hope. There is this new found drive in me. Maybe it's the third year push, maybe it's having narrowed down my research problem to some extent, maybe it is that I think this problem is MINE to solve. Whatever it is, I have this drive, this thrill that I am not ready to let go. If the antidepressants continue to work, my therapy kicks in and I do pass my prelims, I can effectively channel this drive to do what I have wanted to do for so long, what I have trained for.

If it doesn't happen... I don't know. I just don't know yet. I've had bad periods and I have gotten out of them. I guess I just have to hope I will get out of this one too. The optimistic part of me doesn't want to leave this on this note, but it's how I feel.

But something certainly good amidst all this uncertainty is I am finally going home after 2 years. I know for a fact, that I am going to be doing mental zoomies like an energized puppy. I get to see my parents and experience some familiarity. That can't be too bad, right?

In some ways, this post is a lot like what it feels like inside my head. Circular, a snake eating its own tail, weird back-propagation of arrows, reinforcement - negative and positive.

But I'm done. I'm ready to break free, of these shackles, from this cycle, this circular fear and never-ending inertia.

Here's to hope and Freddie Mercury.

Anxiety

Anxiety is weird. Even after you've gone for months of therapy and you've learned to get over it, it rears its head up in the background; reminding you it's always right around the corner, just you wait. Its volume turns up pretty high closer to deadlines as well. There was a time when I used to wake up in the morning and not be able to get out of the bed; too overwhelmed by the day that was to come. Now, I wake up in the morning, knowing I am not ready for the day but I force myself out of bed and decide to face it head on. There are moments where it is too overwhelming, you tell yourself you could throw it all away and run away to a place where nothing real exists. I do consider it, but only for a moment. Because I know I will be bored to death in that life. I love discovering papers and ideas and being excited about things to do, I don't really want to run away. I tell myself "Stop thinking about stupid shit and get back to work". So I do. But anxiety is right there, just behind the curtain, trying to rear its ugly head back at me. Time goes both slow and fast. Slow because you are doing nothing, just looking at time pass you by. Fast because you finally get into the zone - but so much time has passed, that you have lost all energy just worrying about how slowly the time was passing, and did nothing after all.

The thing is I have fought it, it has worked. But then, sometimes it escalates from 0 to 100 before I can even say the a of anxiety, and before I know it, I feel my heart beating through my chest, my palms leaving sweat all over my mouse, and all my effort to turn chaos into something in a handle-able manner goes out the window. And all that is left, is me screaming and hating and refusing to work. (Cue the weeks to my prelim deadline)

I leave for my internship tomorrow. This is something I have been excited about for about 4 months now. But now that it is close, all that seems to have disappeared. All that is left in focus, is the nervousness, the uncertainty, and all the ways in which I have no idea what I am going to do; which is not even true. I have some idea, and unless I explore it (it's right there, do research!), how the hell will I know?! This is how my unproductive phase begins -  my brain negatively reinforcing my fear of failure over all the freaking success possibilities. It is so annoying to remember only the low moments especially when it is not time to do so; and to tire myself out so much, that I don't even remember what it is like to love working anymore. This type of shut down before I even begin makes me wonder whether I am even meant for academia, a place where I finally feel like I have found my own. All because my brain refuses to rationalize emotions the way I can so beautifully do when it comes to math or research or coding or cooking or music or any freaking thing in the world, precisely because they are freaking emotions. *sigh* This sucks. I don't want all my beautiful moments to be overpowered by random circular negative reinforcement circles that do nothing useful.

I don't want this to be a dire piece of writing. But it is how I feel. I try denying it because it feels stupid (even typing this feels stupid). It feels stupid because this means so much to me, and in some ways, it feels like I'm sabotaging it (or some activities of my brain are). It is as though my brain is creating an artificial danger situation, which is not at all existent, and here I am, firefighting the hell out of it. It ought to be easier than this, I shouldn't have to struggle to just get through each activity, I shouldn't have to fight against my own freaking brain.

This feels especially weird because I have given competitive exams, where I did believe it was a case of now or never, as did everyone around me where the scores pretty much determined my future. But, I just studied, I just worked, I don't think I even knew the a of anxiety. I fared more than just good, I did pretty well. I just remember being excited about learning, learning about newtonian physics, falling in love with organic chemistry, discovering calculus and the logical nature of computer science - and exams were just a thing. All my undergrad, despite some very subpar classes, I couldn't stop being excited learning about various aspects of Computer Engineering. I devoured textbooks, I loved discovering how algorithms work. There were frustrating moments, of course, but I didn't doubt for a moment that Computer Engineering was meant for me. Every class I took, took me a step closer to what I believed was my place.

And that's exactly why, I don't recognize this bubbling mass of anxiety that doesn't hold on to her excitement of discovering new things for too long. This is too new to me to be familiar with it. So I deny its existence with every fiber in my being trying to hide it under the carpet and there it lies, perfectly hidden for you to convince yourself that it doesn't exist, but that's not quite the truth, is it? 

Maybe that is the key - to understand and accept it as a part of me as much as my excited self is me as well. To be kind, to be warm, like I would to a friend, and not push my anxious self into a corner. Honestly, this feels too personal to share, partly because writing always gets me to write the most intimate things I never would say out loud. Especially because hiding in the shadow of metaphors of pain comes naturally to me. But maybe talking about it explicitly is not a bad thing?

I guess, I logically know I can work through this and just maybe I believe  (yes, font size intends to say exactly what you think it does). I know I have seen some successes (hey, I'm still here, right?), I have seen some breakthroughs in my time here as well as future breakthroughs in my head. The inherent optimist in me, wants to go "A change is gonna come" (You know where this is going, don't you?). Now that I have spent half an hour writing this and procrastinating, I'm gonna get to packing and hopefully looking forward to a life in California for the next three months.

And keeping in mind the foreshadowing I already provided (*wink wink*), I have to, have to share this song. Even though I know this song signifies the civil rights movement and is born from a very singular moment, these words (as music and poetry sometimes do) seem way too apt for me in this moment. As much as I want to give up and run away, I also want to believe, I also want to know it is not the end of everything.

I hope you listen to Aretha, who as always brings magic to this song, with her voice and her most beautiful rendering, and get lost in this moment of hope during times of need. I know I can do with a lot of hope right now.

Small talk

I've come to understand and maybe even enjoy small talk. It isn't always about the weather. Sometimes, it's about finding that connection in talking about your day's events; knowing that even for those two minutes, you are genuinely interested in that conversation. In those few minutes, there is that semblance of warmth. I have often wondered how much of it is forced and of course, even fake; since I'm always on this end, someone who barely exists there before she is gone. But they, the baristas, the nurses, the customer service reps, the cab drivers, are constantly present, going through this process with different people hour after hour, day after day. And I think, maybe I ought to do my part to be the least bit pleasant, the least bit agreeable? 

And even during the worst days, there is something about being that small level of vulnerable, to feel that honesty that comes through when you talk about how you really are feeling, what you are actually going to do and what you are looking forward to - knowing that we aren't always the "Hi , how are you? Good. How are you?" machines.

Today I shared that moment with someone, all thanks to small talk. 

Railroad Memories

I got the "coffee convert" tea today. The watery black tea to which I added some milk and sugar. The first taste on my tongue and the memory of travelling by train hit me like a rock. To waking up to the sound of "Chai chai" and "Coffee Coffee". I loved travelling by train, it brings up some of my nicest memories with my family, despite the 36 hours of journey and terrible bathrooms. I loved looking out at the green fields, reading by the window, playing card games, having idli mulagai podi packed in banana leaves for food and fermenting yogurt in bottles, and last but most definitely the topmost in priority - loving the food that came through the compartments (Masala vada tops that list hands down). 

Train journeys also remind me of sleepless nights spent talking, feeling, realizing and appreciating those moments. Of times experienced together that cannot be repeated. I still have this romanticism associated with it.There is something about travelling by train in India that pulls me in, even though I don't think it is going to happen any time soon. Until then, I'm gonna hold on to these memories that just bring up the excitement of travel, the relishing pleasure of food and an inherent feeling of experiencing life in the moment as opposed to letting it pass you by, we leave that to fields on the train. :)

This song has nothing to do with trains except for the title (and maybe the pacing and the pattern of playing too). But here it goes. 

John Mayer - Stop this train

P.S. This is definitely one of my shorter posts. But I think I want to just write more instinctively and post as opposed to waiting for time to perfect, since all that effort is spent in trashing and rewriting my research things. So here's to firsts!

Glorious 27

26 felt inconsequential but 27 feels like something. It may be because it brings back the memory of having read the biographies of two music legends who died at that age. The point where they had just begun to succeed, where fame had just caught up to them, a few more years and they could have produced the best material of their lifetime. Because of multiple reasons, either unanticipated drug overdose or suicide, they died and then they were made legends, because that was just before their best was to come, just not yet.

This feeling weirdly, very weirdly feels a little too applicable to me at my to-be 27. I am where I think I need to be, and this feels all right and all that struggle makes sense (in hindsight, of course. How else do we deal with the constant disappointment and awkwardness yet unexpected and undefined happy moments that is our life?). I could die at this point, letting people epitomize me in the idea that if there was anyone meant to do research, it was me (that's quite some self-aggrandizement, isn't it? if only I told that to myself every single day for motivation).

This new year began with a lot of melancholy, confusion and being too burnt out and just this idea of not knowing for sure what I really was doing. I had forgotten how books can heal - I was reading a book that made me completely forget where I was, my presence completely lost in those pages. I had forgotten how writing can feel so right, even now it feels unbelievable how therapeutic this feels, just being able to put my thoughts into words. I also completely seemed to have given up on music in the past few months and my guitar just sat there, my heart yearning to play yet my mind refusing to take that first step - the mind that was lost in the quagmire of the perception of busyness.

Which reminds me of an incident that happened two weeks ago. I was walking home and was definitely not in the best place and a random person who walked past me, paused to look at me and continued walking in the opposite direction while saying "Hare rama hare rama....hare krishna krishna krishna hare hare be happy" as I continued looking at them. And I burst out smiling, because it made me think; how assured we are in our belief of individualized lives in our own bubbles but here we are, giving away so much just by being in the physical presence of another person even if for a split second. It was a very real moment and I realize - I don't want to be lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts that are filled with dead ends, not again. I know I have an exit that I can take always and find myself again, be myself again.

But maybe some of this is also because a lot of "shaking the tree" has happened in terms of me learning about myself, in isolation from the society and people's opinions and my own damn opinions from a lifetime, that for the longest time I believed defined me. I've had moments of ups and downs and belief and disbelief through this phase. I think I have finally accepted myself for who I am - in the good and the bad - and maybe, just maybe, I like a few bits of this person here and there. And this really played itself out in terms of trust. Trust that I am worthy of relationships, trust that I am worthy of this research position and trust that even if I screw up, as long as I am willing to accept the responsibility and consequences of things and work towards things that really matter to me, as long as I am being true to myself, that's what matters. (or so I'll hope until I have to do a round 2 with this, and then I'll write about that as well. :) )

This acceptance of the bad has probably been most surprising and the most calming, I know now it is not the end of the world even though I believed it was, for way way too long. Someone once told me about how I overthink to the point that I have to plan even to have fun and it wasn't meant to be a good thing. But to be honest, that's who I am. I plan excessively. I think too much, about too many things and too many people. But I have finally learnt to try to give myself credit too, to not hate myself for how some things might manifest themselves. This might mean I have to plan every fun moment in my life, but I don't really care, because at least I'm having fun. :)

Another not so subtle realization is how I am so much closer to who I really am in all my vulnerabilities and wants and weaknesses (described here elegantly or not so elegantly based on how you see it). I don't feel apologetic about how much I feel or express anymore or who I am as a person. I AM a computer scientist damn it, and I can finally say it after 12 years of doing this, 6 years too late (but at least not never?). I want to see more women, talk to them, see myself in them, hopefully learn to navigate this path of feminism where I can learn to emulate the successful men and women in my lifetime without giving up my identity.

A nice moment that happened was that I FINALLY reached 100 posts this year. Well, 100 posts in 10 years isn't spectacular; but I was waiting for 100 for a very long while. Even though this blog has been on and off, it's definitely here to stay. I feel like I gave up everything that are therapeutic to me to pursue something that means something but not giving it enough credential either. So here's to changing that - to spending time doing things that are meaningful in a conscious manner. 

So you see, 2018 might be the year I actually found myself and began living for real. And then again, if I do die, wouldn't it be just that poetic? :D

In memoriam, to his fashion sense, to his novel use of the wah-wah pedal, to my love of blues, to him being made a legend before he even hit his peak, here's Jimi with one of my favourite songs, Little Wing.

https://vimeo.com/166581864

Broken Cellphone

I learnt that a lost heart may not be very far from a lost cellphone.

You keep waiting for it to come back to you,

Telling yourself you'll be better with it,

More careful, more loving,

More aware that it exists,

You wouldn't take it for granted,

Not that you did before.

You go around looking,

Hoping for one last glance,

One last effort to do everything it takes,

But it is gone.

And you feel broken, devastated,

All that loss of time and effort,

You just want to give up

And you do.

And then you receive a call,

"Your lost cellphone has been found..

But it is so broken,

It looks like it has been crushed by a car."

If I could only count the number of times,

My heart felt crushed by the pain of its loss,

When it knew it was broken and yet,

It refused to let go.

But, they are different.

Because even when so broken,

That call,  the sight of that cellphone,

Provided me closure to move on.

But a broken heart?

That's a wound you're gonna have to heal all by yourself.

The many small questions and the few big answers

I am ushering in the new year on quite a high really. I think it has been quite some time before I felt this childishly happy. There are a few legitimate reasons for the same

1. I had one very good last week of the semester.
Something I have kept referring to for the past few years is about how it feels alien to have a good thing happen to me. I'm almost on guard for a bad thing that I believe, will most definitely follow a good thing. I might have finally given up on that this year. That week, was a week of too many snippets of good news ( which i will now tag as the good-news-week in the post). I passed two of my classes with grades that ensure I don't have to take them again and grades that might have been too good to be true. Yours truly, as usual, was happy to deny she had anything to do with it. But I am learning to give myself credit, so I might have come around to accepting it. This was followed by my flight being delayed and missing my connecting flight and reaching Mumbai 2 days later. But I got to spend the 2 days in my own home and not in a dingy airport gasping for fresh air. I guess I should consider it enough proof that good things can last by themselves after all. :)

2. I am okay with being an adult

It began when about 10 days ago, I wasn't asked for an I.D. while entering this lounge (which is unusual given if you don't look above 40, they do ask for it). And amidst jokes of looking old enough, I realize it didn't matter to me. Mostly people hate the responsibilities that come with it, but I guess it has been long enough that I have come to accept those the way I expect myself to brush my teeth every single morning. I learnt that adulthood comes with its share of turmoil, especially during this phase, where most people are going through their quarter life crises. That I definitely do not have solutions to most problems, that conflicts are unavoidable, and the fewer people, the better.

What has also changed, is my perception of my parents. I now see them as fellow adults, with a little more experience, of course, but nevertheless, stumbling through each day. I see them wondering how to let go of us as adults while we ask to be treated as kids when home. It is so much easier to talk to them, to be understanding. I give them a lot of credit for having transitioned to this mode of being with us, treating us back as fellow adults. In fact, I had this detailed conversation with my dad about love and emotions in a very different capacity, where I found this side of him that I knew existed, but something that never came through before now. That was interesting and a lot easier than I had imagined.

Majorly, I realized I am now in that phase of my life where I see my parents once a year and otherwise, we continue to live individual lives, hoping the other is fine.*sigh* Maybe that slightly hurts.

3. I am home
I won't deny. Coming back home was scary. I know it has only been around a year since I left and I should have been dumb to think that I would remember nothing. But the truth is when you adjust to an extremely foreign place, creating an alternative reality for yourself as a coping mechanism, you often don't remember where you belong, if you belong at all. It was an eye-opener when the typical American politeness in an Indian shop returned embarrassed responses from the employees who felt they were just doing their job. Either way, being welcomed with the smell of bhaturas, being rejected by the autowallahs, and just driving around with my family, was therapeutic, to say the least. I think I had forgotten how good home can actually feel. My sister and I spent time with our parents, and that is pretty much all that we did; making family trips out of tasks to be completed, playing music and eating food.

I came home with ideas about being extremely logical, especially about love and other such emotions. But just being around my family, I realized that maybe, I need to let the feeling of safety and the calmness that is home just sink in, not seek to define or articulate these feelings. Trust that if someone feels like home, maybe that is a relationship to uphold, that is a person to trust. These are very redundant thoughts maybe, but to me, it feels like a lesson I am relearning finally getting out of a few constructs I had built around myself.

4. I now have a U.S. drivers license #good-news-week

   (which is apparently a big deal, I hear)

  

5. I am now a Ph.D. student #good-news-week

I don't even know what to say. I was mostly stupefied, even though it was kinda expected given how things worked out. I know I did work hard for it, it didn't just land in my hands. But I know I got extremely lucky in terms of the work I am getting to do and the people I am getting to work with, from what it seems right now. I think it is finally sinking in, that I am in fact doing what I have wanted to do, for almost 10 years now. Right now, that can actually overwhelm me given my personal expectations of myself, so I am trying to take it as it comes, just focus on work like I always have, and hopefully, that results in good things. I am happy. I jump between extreme calm and extreme excitement for most parts, but I guess it is gonna be a satisfactory 4 years, at least I hope it will be.

I happened to meet Sanaya ( my first ever friend) on New Year's Eve and I think I could not have began 2017 in a better way. Based on our conversation, I think I am done being so serious about everything, I know a lot of my light heartedness came from being home, but I really think I need to start enjoying the good times I have in order to be able to brave through the difficult ones. Maybe something to consider seriously.

My year definitely started out fuzzy and happy. A blissful content happiness I haven't felt in a long while. And the two resolutions, if at all, that I have for myself, is to have faith in the good times and in the good actions of people and to truly be happy when I can. Simple to advise about, difficult to implement. :)

Wishing you a productive and hope-filled new year as well. :)

And here's the happy song I want to share. A song I loved when I could hardly talk and I recently realized, it is definitely a guitar song I have to learn. Big plans for the future, indeed. 

(Mr. Big - To be with you)

P.S. Technically, this post is 10 whole days late. But given that this is the first post of the year, I haven't really missed a "deadline" now, have I? :D

Whoa! Did I just turn 25?

This year's birthday was hardly typical. I did have a few hours of great people and good music to count for it. Two submissions due, craziness ensued until I came home in the night ready to get to my bed.

I think the whole "OMG, am I turning 25 this year?!" moment happened a long time ago and then nothing yet. But 25 does feel like the age you should be given the medal to have reached. Your parents too should be given a medal, I think. And all relatives and family friends must be banned from asking anything about the most hated 'm' word.

With every year you age in the later 20s , it feels like you grew a decade older as opposed to just a year. It feels like if you don't do all the things you've always wanted to do in your life now, you never will. Which is probably why it is scary to grow older at this point I guess?  don't think I totally subscribe to that thought but I hope after 30, I'm just chilling and I don't really care.

 I must have been high during the new year to think I have no resolutions. I should have just started with, try and learn to be concise and precise. Long winded sentences, half baked sentences, just cannot be excused anymore. God, it has come to my notice after all these years. Not like I haven't said it before but I admire people for having listened to me (or ignored successfully and never let me realize) but just goes on to show there's always scope for improvement. Learning to pick myself up after every fall also seems to be a recurring theme that I might have to consider a late resolution, this semester for sure. 

I also think the whole point about reaching the wrong side of 25 is to start getting your shit together. You are where you are because you wanted to get there, or your actions got you there. Own up and act the part to perfection. That's the advice I'm giving myself anyway.

The funny part is, most songs of Oasis give you such a 80s rock feeling that they hardly feel like they are from the 90s but your opinion is definitely changed when you watch the video. This is a recent discovery, and God, am I addicted to it.

(I found this draft randomly and I wonder why I didn't post it. It doesn't even seem incomplete that I can leave it for the next one. So going ahead and posting it for the sake of the effort that was made)

I'm here!

Finally! After having written multiple new year posts referring to this very day, I am actually here. A dream come true.

Umm, not exactly. No, it is not what it seems to imply. I got back to studying like a person who rides a bicycle after a decade and they're on their way. But the second half of this year has definitely been terrible health-wise. Spending-so-much-time-at-the-hospitals-and-health-centers-that-the-receptionists-began-to-recognize-me terrible. It included not being allowed to sing or play the guitar for three months, two of the things that keep me sane. Phew, you would think this is as bad as a Greek mythological task where you are setup to fail. ( Influence of having read the complete Percy Jackson series in less than a week! I highly recommend.)

Yet, I can call these 4 months the best I have ever had in way too long a time, despite all the hardships and breaking down. I have not felt so alive and real in years. So I haven't given up, not yet. I think the last few days of the semester were bad, it did reach the crazy level I was waiting the whole semester for. I did win eventually. It makes me wonder how often hard work is correlated with winning. I absolutely believe in it, but I wish people addressed how stressful grad school really is, more openly . Anyway, I think I still cannot dismiss the majority of the feelings felt, which is grateful.

There are so many days when I wished I had never gone to work, that I had applied right at the beginning and lived what I am living now. But I guess that's not how it works. I am sure I would have taken it for granted, just having gotten out of college, with rose colored glasses, not really knowing how life looks like otherwise.

I now have really come to believe that sometimes, you really need to live your worst to do your best. So that you know how precious that moment is, how precious that feeling is, how much you really want to do this. I now know enough to say I want this without wondering "Do I really want it or is it just me being extremely emotional and stupid?". I am so worried that a day will come when this will stop feeling like a dream and will feel like drudgery and I might be inclined to stop halfway. But there is also a part of me that thinks that it might not happen because I am in a place where I can actually go ahead with my ideas, there is nothing to stop me, there is only encouragement from all directions. I definitely do not know if these ideas will fall flat on their face (which I am sure they might) or other mishaps I haven't taken into account might happen but at least, I have a chance. At least, I have an option to try. And THAT, I cannot and will not take for granted, having craved this moment for years.

That was quite some emotion, now for the real deal. 

This semester has also been about believing in myself again. I have finally worked on projects, learnt languages, tackled interviews in a way that I always perceived the other smart person to be able to do, but never me. This semester, I did it all. I am very impressed with myself. I am glad I can say that I am impressed with myself.  I am relieved, that I am not dumb after all. I also figured I have become quite strategic about addressing ways of handling work. I always thought strategy and hard work never go hand in hand but it turns out, working hard in a smart manner does transform itself to a strategy.

It also turns out that I've become quite the introvert in the past three years, such a far cry from what I was identified with back in the undergrad days. Also, after years of refusing to do so, I have finally let myself accept that there are different levels of closeness with different people and it actually helps me be a better friend. Maybe the two are related. I think it is because I just don't have the energy in me to hide my real thoughts and feelings, I'd rather just talk to those who know me well enough for me to not have to justify anything that I say. For that matter, in general, I have just started saying what I think and feel as opposed to masking the same. I can assure you, it is the highest level of relief you could ever feel, since this comes from someone who used to hate offending people even if it was unintentional.

Something I am very proud of, is that I stuck to the resolution of having some physical activity part of my daily routine, despite the crazy schedule. I have realized that, that adrenaline peak is something that is utmost necessary and so is the endorphin release. I love it. And I know I will continue it this year as well, to better results, I hope.

A few days ago, I sang a Carnatic music song. It was on the insistence of someone I hardly knew. But after three months of the singing break I had to take, after that yearning to sing all this time, it felt magical. I had forgotten how amazing it feels, as though with every word I sang, every wound in my soul was healed to full capacity. I think I am definitely getting back to that, no doubt.

Somehow this year, I don't have any thing that I specifically want to live by or get done because somehow over the years, I believe I have assimilated them into myself. I'm not saying I don't have room for improvement, I have loads of those. But this year, I am peaceful. I am thankful for where I am. And I hope this year just gets better. I will ensure I put all of my heart and soul into everything that I do and hope that it counts.

I am going to leave you with the thought that sometimes, if you work hard enough and want something enough, you will get through all the hurt and horrible times to where you wish to be. You just need to believe in yourself and your effort. I wish you a very happy new year. Leaving you with this song because I believe it is happy enough to represent my state right now. :)

Before the high wears off

It's not the end of the semester. Hell, it is not even close. But well, I just got done with both my midterms today! I'm listening to Pearl Jam while writing this before people start discussing the midterm and I figure all the places I made stupid mistakes in. I just want to enjoy today and kinda think about the time that has been the last two months. I am finally here. Living my dream. After all of that crying, waiting, hoping ( du du du du du .. sorry, that song just came right up) for way way too long. I don't think I really believed it until my plane was about to land at Detroit and I almost wished it didn't because suddenly it was way too overwhelming with my hair standing on end.

But like it turns out, I didn't really have any getting used to studying or getting back to studying, it felt as natural as wearing a jacket. It never felt weird, it just did not. And I don't know if I am speaking too soon, but honestly, I don't think I've been happier in three years. I haven't felt this alive in so damn long. I just haven't.  I'm not saying there aren't tough times and doubtful times, lord knows I've had quite a few of them in just this small duration. But still, at least I don't feel listless. At least, I don't feel like my brain is rotting away while I just get by.

I had decided that I would try and let go of my past and all my disappointments and unfulfilled expectations and hope for this to be a fresh start. Fresh start, this word has been abused so often, and I think we tend to want these a little too often. But the lines have been pretty blurred. It didn't feel like a whole new beginning or whatever, it feels like a continuum of sorts. And I'm writing this knowing that if I suck at my midterm, I am gonna hate myself (clearly, I can't stop thinking even if I want to!) but whatever I said is true either way. So I am at peace, at least for today.

And Ann Arbor has been super welcoming. (At least that's what it leads you to believe until winter, is it? Or maybe, after winter, I might say eh, that wasn't so bad, I hope!) With all of its honestly unbelievably pretty places that have got me wondering "Really? Do I actually call this place my home now?", I love it. There are squirrels scurrying around digging up random places. There is this family of deer that walks past as though it doesn't give a shit about anyone who stares at them and smiles and chuckles and laughs and wonders about clicking photographs (a.k.a me). Why, I even spotted a skunk (and stayed far away, just in case :P). I hope I don't stop getting amazed at these things, it makes those tired walks to college something to look forward to. And fall is just so beautiful, so damn beautiful. It feels sad to see trees being barren but it also makes me look forward to the leaves growing back in spring. :)

When someone asks me what is it that I want to do or study and what I see myself doing, I actually don't know. The last few times I was so sure of doing something, it always changed and then I was stuck. Right now, I think I have an idea of what I would like to do without the details or even that one sentence description, and I think I have come to figure that sometimes, that's actually good enough. But one thing I do know, is that I want to make a difference. I want to learn the depth and not swim in the shallowness that is Jack of all trades.

It is a rainy morning here (yes, this post is continued over two days), and rain as always gives me a sense of calm with the whooshy sounds of the wind and pitter patter that feels familiar. The sky is overcast and the place looks just so beautiful. Not an average studying day at all. But I think I should get back to my books.

What it looks like outside my window!

This song kinda seems perfect for the weather, it's smooth, it's comfortable, it just glides beautifully in the background. I think Pink Floyd is perfect for too many situations. That being said, a few poems are in the works, so I shall return to this space very soon. :)

Into the horizon

It is not just the sunrise that is glorious,

In its wake,

In all its beauty,

If someone asked me,

I would choose you any day.

Why are you associated with the end,

When in fact,

you are the reason for the birth of this poetry.

I look at you,

I feel absolutely elated at the sight of you,

I want to memorize you.

I might have just seen you yesterday,

But I have to see you today as well,

As though if I don't, you might just go away.

There is this ephemeral feeling about you,

You descend ever so slowly,

That slight melancholy in the background

I don't really want you to go,

But it hardly ever feels and you've disappeared.

But I can survive it,

While the skies turn pink and orange in your glory,

You're the very precursor to so much more beauty,

The crescent moon and the beautiful stars.

I look into the horizon,

With a mind that knows no more happiness,

I know you will be back tomorrow,

When I will not be able to resist looking at you.

I shall wait for you, my dear sunset,

For as long as you promise to turn up right there for me.

( I don't know if it is the Hyderabad winter sunsets or that I can look into the horizon here with no buildings blocking me or that I began to leave office when there is actually a semblance of sunlight, but somehow I got obsessed with the sky when the sun sets. I went to Udaipur and again, the beautiful sunset came following me. I never really take photographs. But sunsets; you'll find dozens of those on my phone. Leaving you with what I believe to be one of the best sunset pictures I have)

Tales of 24

24 was always far away for me and my sister. It was the age when my mom got married (though she strictly encourages me to finish studying before I even think of marriage and just how much I love her for that!). Right since I was 14, my sister would begin going  “la la la la la la” the moment someone even mentioned marriage and I always used to think ’24 is too far away, why the hell should I care about it now?’ I don’t have to think about it for 10 years now. (I was 14, I wasn't allowed to use 'hell' even in my head :P.)

I don’t think I ever planned the future in a clear manner. I didn't know then what working actually involved so I couldn't see myself doing so. But the one thing that has been constant since then is the want to study.

Look at me now. Here I am. All of 24. I keep repeating it to myself to remind myself that I am indeed that old. The age that I thought would never come.

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day.  For the first time in many years, I did not feel that tinge of sadness that is so typical of us singles surrounded by happy romantic couples smothered by roses and teddy bears and excessive love. I did the cheesiest possible things for my girlfriends here, took them out for dinner and we had the most amazing evening filled with revelations. It felt so amazing to be present in that moment, where I could make someone feel so special. All of us wish to feel that, yes, even though we may have multiple occasions where the corresponding better halves do their bit. But those times, when it comes from someone and somewhere unexpected, there is always a hint of delight to it. I do hope they felt as much.

Something I have been feeling stronger about with every passing day is how I need to involve myself in a lot more music, a lot more writing as well. I watched Roy the other day and there was something about that movie that brought out that dreamy alternate world, the other worldly feeling that engulfs me when I sit to write a poem. I felt that after ‘Begin again’ too. It brought out the feeling related to music that is so entrenched in me, the feeling that accompanies me wherever I go. I definitely want to write more songs, both lyrics and music and actually sing them outside of the four walls of my bedroom. (Yes, I have definitely advanced from the bathroom singing which is now reserved for improvisations and falsettos :P.) The night of my birthday triggered this feeling too, when we were jamming and I just sang my heart out, improvisations et al., for the first time in the presence of others. I wish I could explain how it feels, but for that, I would have to cut my heart out, place it in front of you and hope you can feel a small part of it. (While I write this, my brain is going, “Your brain, your brain, not your heart!” but the poet in me just cannot let go of metaphors. :) ) I hope it happens a lot more when I am eventually part of a band (again I hope). I am guessing I am not too late, maybe I should write a few of my own songs in the meanwhile. Oh Marine drive, just how much I miss you.

Today, I also went for the 3k run organized by the Hyderabad Runners club. Quite measly when compared to the half-marathon or even the marathon, but man, the way they make you feel when you enter that finish line, it is as though you did something spectacular. It was nothing like those 100m races in school where I always failed trying, or at least felt like I did. Always left in that sinking feeling where I began to believe that sports was never meant for me despite the inherent liking I had for it.  I think I am going to cherish the feeling from today morning and keep it pushing me towards where I want to be.

I was telling a friend of mine, that I have begun to appreciate the importance of simplicity of friendships and conversations. And just now, I remember having written a post with the same title. I had written it in the wake of a whole lot of people I had discovered and what I had believed then to be the ideal way. There is a part of me that wants to plaster a big ‘LOL’ on top of this post but I will not. I understand that as much as you try and make something as simple as it gets, unless the other person wants and does the same things, it will never reach that pinnacle. And sometimes, as much as you might care for someone and they might care for you, you will always tend to be biased towards those friends who understand you so instinctively, with whom you don’t have to be careful about what you say, it does not matter how you behave or how often you talk, they get you. I KNOW, the then-me would never agree to this, always believing that more is possible but I guess now I know better. I am thankful to have a few of these special ones with whom it never ceases to remain the same :) . Though I don’t think I will ever stop trying.

Now you might wonder why this post feels like a whole bunch of updates rather than one coherent thought. I think it has a lot to do with my state of mind, which I think is comparable to a dementor :P; though I am not trying to suck happiness out of people’s lives, I am definitely trying to get those happy moments out of all the small things that I may do. And writing this post has made me quite emotional as well, maybe it has a lot to do with how much of this came from my own self, just me, without having to depend on anyone else. That makes it all the more special. And a lot more close to my heart as well. Leaving you with this song that reminds me how I want to feel when I eventually sing and play my own song in front of an audience with a similar ensemble. :)

                         

The better alternate universe

I couldn't possibly not write about this. Ironically, a week ago, I couldn't even explain it. I didn't have words. It is just that crazy. I still remember that moment. That moment I was so scared of for the past few days. My heart raced and I could feel it beating hard and loud. I thought something is going to give up on me. But when it came, all I did was close my eyes. Or look down. It didn't matter. Because only one thing was running in my head. And in that moment, I forgot everything else. It was mine. Mine, all along. As though, everything else insignificant, unimportant was shifted to some place I couldn't recognize, to be completely consumed by one wholesome feeling. Overwhelmed I was. I never believed I was capable of it. You look like a guy, they said. You sound like a guy, they said. That that very thing might make you sound so different and unexpected, they never said. But my mom did. If not for her, I don’t think I would be here, talking about this at all. And my two teachers, without them, I don’t think I would ever have reached for the skies like I did.

All I could think of, were the words that were coming out of my mouth. I didn't even realize where I was, what I was doing. There wasn't even the possibility of thinking of anything else. That music had taken me into it. Damn, this feeling, I can’t shake it off. That hour before, I felt like I was in an alternate universe. I don’t really know what else to say. That day, I remembered the first ever concert I had attended. I remembered being in that moment, with the people who sang, with the people who played and the smiles adorning their faces. I had just begun to learn music again then. I even wrote a whole post about it. And now when I go back and read, I feel blessed, to have ever felt this feeling, even once. I feel grateful again, that I am actually able to learn this art, to be a minuscule part of it, as much as every living cell in my body knows that without music, I am not me, I cannot exist. And it is something that helps me tell anyone I meet, including you, who is reading the post. If your reason for not singing, is “I can’t sing”, “You would run away if I begin singing”, “I don’t have a good voice”, take it from someone who has come past it all. I would never have believed that it can ever come to me. That I, would actually not think my voice sounds weird. I never would have imagined my dad would be incredibly happy on having heard me, that my mom would be incredibly moved. There is this unshakable feeling in my head which tells me, music was always gonna be a part of me. 

I bought this poster a few weeks ago and it is just so apt!

In a similar way, I think this small thing has made me believe, that I am gonna learn Carnatic music for as long as it takes. And hopefully, just hopefully, the first day I have my own concert, when I actually sing niraval and Kalpana swaras, I don’t think I would ever hope for more. Ever. I didn't know I was even capable of feeling so much. But having felt it, I am just so so grateful and thankful that I have this with me. Finishing on a note where I have tears in my eyes and that choking feeling in my throat.

 The brilliant part? I am at peace. 

Sex And The City

That's what we called ourselves. Weirdly, only two of us being the faithful fans, me who lost interest within the first season (that too was a lot, I think it lasted because of Namrata's influence) and Ashwini who still has no clue about the show at all. Of course, a year ago, I would have cringed to be referred to as that, just as much as I cringed about taking selfies and clicking photographs wherever we go, but I guess I have come to love them after all. Because it wasn't about references. It was about the people I had come to love. It was just a way of identifying ourselves and never the identity by itself. The feeling of knowing I belonged somewhere. We came from different places, struggling to find our place here, honestly not knowing how to go about life and waiting for the day we could get rid of this place. The four of us being brought together, was light at the end of a dark tunnel. For each of us. In one way or the other, this group made us believe that life as we knew it in Hyderabad (dead), had ended. This city didn't suck anymore. And it's because of them.

There is something about having girlfriends. The last time I had them, they were just about the only friends I had ever had in my life. They're the ones you need, the only ones to whom you can show your vulnerable side, the side that you judge yourself about, the one where you want to cry, not because you're a stupid girl but because, to be strong to everyone else, you need to be able to tell someone it's not easy. Those to whom when you tell how you felt when someone hurt you, they go “I know!” and you know they know it; and for once you are thankful you aren’t screaming your lungs out or giving up on trying to explain it. Where hugs came whenever it was needed, without even the mention of needing one. Where hugs were demanded too and they came the same way. If I could only explain how big a deal that is.

I'm not the kind who commands attention, forget asking for it. You won't find me making subtle (or not-so-subtle as so many I wish would realize) gestures to something I want someone to ask me about. I keep waiting until I am disappointed, as usual. But these girls, they filled me with love and over-the-top attention, jumping to my rescue the moment there was even a hint of disappointment about anything. There was this one time, where we made a sudden plan to go to 10D and I wasn’t wearing quite the appropriate clothes for the place. Usually, I would act as though it doesn’t matter but in my own head, feel bad about not looking as good as the ones around me. But these girls, Oh God, put me before themselves, gave me a dress to wear, put make-up on me (needless to say, something that I know freakishly too less about) and made me look just so good. The thing is, it isn’t even about dressing up. It is the fact that ‘they’ make you want to feel so good about yourself. I think for the first time ever in my life, and I mean it, I realized I no longer have an inferiority complex about myself, about the way I look. And I owe a lot of it to these girls. Honestly, I still have my days ( most of them really :P) where I’m wearing my loosest possible Beatles T-shirt, earphones plugged in and walking around like a duck in my worn out blue Nike chappals ( those that Eshita absolutely detests and has been waiting for the moment to throw away :P), but I’m sure when I say I have come a long way and I’m a lot more Preetish* about it, they agree. :)

Of course, all of our night-outs, the breakfasts after, those times when things were said without having to think twice, all those confessions, interventions, the most embarrassing stories and to laugh at them within ourselves( yes, yes, you can give up on raising your hand now!). The compliments I get from my girls does more than its worth of share, who the hell needs a boyfriend for that! And that we manage to paint a very very boring town red, I believe, is an achievement in itself.

This was such a lovely place, and such an awesome lunch :)

They never let me feel left out ever. I never had to try to fit in. There was never the dearth of love. They made me feel important even though it probably wasn't my time to feel so. This Thursday was amazing in more ways than one. It had the one thing that all four of us love, karaoke. There was just so much happiness. And I knew in that moment, when Namrao entered and we were all hugging and being all excited, singing those songs; that they would always be there for me, despite all my weirdness, those with whom I can be free, to take care of me when I'm down, to assure me that life would always get better and to never give up on me irrespective of what happens.

Few things come to my mind when I think about them. Ashwini's face with her crinkled up nose when she is so happy when her favourite song turns up. Eshita, with all of her innocence and sweetness and yet all that threatening you never knew she had in her, and yet all that caring you would die for. And of course Namrata, it doesn't matter that you are stinky and sleepy, you have to put that liner and lipstick on when she hands it to you, no questions asked.

Today, Ashwini left Hyderabad to follow her dreams; and there was a void that was suddenly created. The three of us were looking so awkwardly at each other, feeling the same thing. But we had always known this moment was coming. Where each of us would leave to follow our respective paths and dreams. That we spent so much time together and made it worth all that while, is what matters. Be it dancing (or should I say twerking :P) to Scream and Shout, discussing GRE words, fake Christmas, dressed up lunches or even making a failed outing into an awesome party at home with disco lights using the flash of a phone, we have done it all. For me, it has been one of the most special inexplicable bonds ever. I love you girls just so much. I can already see us in the future, meeting over lunch, obviously dressed well( do you believe I just said that?! :D) and talking about our husbands, kids, work and life that would be then. Until then, SATC shall be remembered fondly, and to which I dedicate this song in memory of all our 10D visits.

*Preetish - Defined as the level of excitement that only Preeti Ramaraj has ever been capable of displaying, irrespective of whatever it may be. Did I get it right? :)