Hitherto

Hi! I leave for Hyderabad tonight. From not being able to take a walk down the road from my own house, I am now able to make a long trip by myself. Though not as confident as I would like myself to be, I am learning how to push the anxiety further. I am thinking more of the new places I am about to see, the long train journey on which I am going to finish watching what remains of House MD episodes and perhaps read up on the paper I am going to present. I am also reading Vikram Seth's Two Lives these days.

I will be starting on a job soon after I return. I am not overjoyed about it yet but I think it will be interesting, I will be taking up a complete different topic of research. I am also looking forward to meeting the experts at the conference and perhaps write to them upon my return. 

I am a bit more hopeful on the academic front too as I just received a very encouraging note from a professor from a university in the UK. Things are looking a bit better for me and I hope I don't relapse.

A couple of days ago I made a trip to Rajgarh, my nani's place in Rajasthan. I do not know what it is about that small sleepy town-village that helps bring me back to myself. We also visited the small temple of Ramdevji, a place much revered by my otherwise non-temple-going family. I secretly prayed. I fervently prayed. Not to the Gods, for I do not know if I believe, I do pray though sometimes and I don't know if it is really a God I pray to or just have a need to be really vulnerable sometimes. 

In Rajgarh I also met my maternal uncle. Interestingly he now has a cow her calf at the backyard of his huge house. I made friends with the cow, and actually had fun rubbing her back and feeding her on jaggery and fodder. I have always been very afraid of cows especially after an incident in my childhood when I saw a bull go mad and attack a kid from behind. So befriending this cow was a big thing. Funny too.

That is all for now. I am liking the fact that I am for once writing lucidly, away from the obscure way I had begin phrasing whatever I wanted to say. I will be posting some pics too. From Agra and Rajgarh.

So long!

:)

It is okay. It is all going to be fine. I am going to get back to being who I am and there is a lot to be happy about. I love youuuuuu!

N.

The end.

I remember writing about death when given an assignment on it for the spirituality page of the newspaper I worked for. I remember knowing nothing about it and knowing enough to be able to make up something that made sense to my barely out of teenage mind.

My first encounter with it, happened when Jimmy died. I was 13 and the loss was bigger than the sense of death. I cried each night it rained because I feared he was buried somewhere int he earth outside and getting wet in the cold rain. 

The second happened when I was 23 and Panther passed away. I watched him die for a month. I watched him thin, his teeth became even bigger and menacing because the gums were decaying. He lost 15 kilos of his 30 kilogram frame and became skeleton thin. I watched him die as I sat near him with a diary in my hand as I tried to talk me out of it. That night I didn't know if he would make it through the night. He was panting more than ever, as if he wanted to still breathe as much as he could. He lay on a blanket that was mine from when I was very little. A kids blanket. and then it started to happen, the breathing became thicker and he was now gasping for breath. His eyes became bigger and he was in so much pain that it was hard to look at him. Very soon a strange sound started to come out from his mouth, the sound of death approaching and as if he could see it. I do not know if he knew what had happened to him. Perhaps he did, perhaps not. He moaned in pain as I lifted his head and placed it on my lap to comfort him. I remember my silent tears and fervent praying for his pain to end, even if it meant he would be silent forever. My mom, ever the religious person she is, ran to get some Gangajal. Considered the holiest of water among us Hindus. She poured some drops of it in his mouth as he was taking his last breath. My mother even made it a point to recite from the Gita to him. Another one of our holy books. I found myself reading from one of the prayer books too. To keep myself from losing my mind perhaps. And because I didn't want to take a chance with him. 

And then just like that he went silent and lay still. His pink tongue lolled out from one side of his mouth and I shut his eyes. I must have sat with him, petting him, loving him, kissing his head and most of all talking to him for an hour before we were to take him away. It was past midnight and we placed him on a bed-sheet and lifted him up. We took him to the garden near out place where our house help had dug the earth so we could bury him. He was slowly lowered down. My mom emptied some packets of salt so as to keep other animals away. And we put the soil back in the grave, burying him. I didn't know what was happening then. But the scene plays on my mind quite often and I do not know how I managed to remain calm through that time. It has been four years but Panther refuses to really die. My mind refuses to accept he isn't here and I have to stop myself from asking my mom every now and then if Panther has had his meal.

I didn't mean for this post to be about Panther as much as about death. I have feared it a lot these past few months. And I want to get over it. I want to tell me that if it has to happen it will and such fear is unnecessary and crippling. 

I wish to face each fear and stare in its face till I fear no more. I do not know what will work. I only wish to get stronger. So much stronger than what I pretend to be.

भागना

भागना जारी है। खत्म ही नहीं होता। चलता रहता है साँसों कि तरह. बिना किसी बात के, मकसद के। शब्द छोटे हुए जातें हैं। पर भागना जारी है। 

in anticipation

A piece I wrote for a news magazine has been published. It can be found here. Sharing it here in anticipation that it I will return to myself seeing my name in print, even if only on the internet. 

Scream

Everything is falling apart. And I am the one ripping the stitches off. Falling through the crevice as each thread is severed, cut, abandoned. I can't seem to be able to make a move. There is a stoic silence in the mind, the silence of a thousand screams that cannot be heard. 

Ted Talk

I wanted to post this Ted Talk here that is so touching, especially the first 10 minutes or so. I felt as if someone was sharing my story. I also felt relieved that it is not only me but there are many who feel the anxiety I feel, ergo there are ways out of this, ergo I will be able to either manage it or be out of it one day.

PS: sharing things here is not easy for me. I fear being dubbed lazy, mistaken, attention-seeker and what not. I deeply fear not being understood and I do not possess the resilience to make a counter-argument. At times I am not sure if simple words that I have spoken are comprehensible. That is why also I prefer to write.

This once I am allowing myself to come out of 'it' and not be afraid. Not be afraid.