What's the prognosis?

 At the age of 39.5, I think I'm starting to show signs of adulthood. I'm not sure, and I hope I can nip the condition in the bud, but there's no denying the symptoms are there. Let's analyze:

1. Less is really more?

No, this isn't a life lesson. It has to do with ... Tang. I love Tang. Like really, really love it. For decades, I have terrorized people with it. If some unsuspecting innocent says yes to my offer of tang, it's a medical risk. Fill half the glass with the powder, fill the rest with water and, to add insult to injury, add a pinch of salt to heighten the sweetness. That's my death formula and I loved it. One sip, and people would usually choke, cough and then, as the sugar reached the vital organs, their eyes would roll back in their heads.

But now, I find myself putting in one measly teaspoon of Tang in the glass. I have even, at times, painfully transferred some of it back into the packet. No more salt. It's...worrying. Why has this happened to me?

2. I want...

A life partner. 'To share my joys and sorrows with?' you may ask. No. 'For those cold, lonely nights?', you say? No. I'm just thrilled with all that as it is, thank you. No. I have discovered the absolute back-breaking labor that goes into a particular chore. I just hate it. It's called 're-filling'. Refilling the various hand wash dispensers around the house, the oil dispensers, the soap box, and stuff like that. Does that happen to you? Every time you turn around, the damn hand wash dispenser is empty? Yeah, for me too. 

That's when the war begins. I fill it with a bit of water. That buys me a few more days. I pump it till it spits out air and cries out in agony. Then I try a bit more water. There are hardly any bubbles, but that's life. Then for a day or two, I avoid that sink. I will walk across the length of my house to the other sink. One day, that one will give out too. I'll use my aloe vera face wash once or twice to wash my hands and feel guilty about it.

Eventually, I realize that the breaking point has been reached. The war is lost. Out come the refill packet (which was a stone's throw away from the sink the whole time) and I go around the house re-filling. 

Throughout this journey, these days, I find myself muttering, "If I had one of those damn husband things, I would make it him do this." So there. You see, another symptom. 

3. Grey areas

This does not refer to my hair, although it would be accurate. I mean that the grey areas of life have expanded and encroached on all the black and white. I'm finding it a tad bit more difficult to be judgmental. That's troubling. If one cannot sit back and enjoy one's righteous anger, what else is there to life (apart from good food), I ask! 

I'm afraid that I will end up all nice and accepting one day in the distant future. That is a dangerous thing because it it encourages more people into your life. More People. Ugh. We can't have that, can we? My very reputation as a grouchy recluse is at stake!

     So you see, people, I have these symptoms and maybe a few more I haven't discovered yet. If any of you have discovered a cure for this, please get in touch. I will reward you handsomely, with as many glasses of Tang as you please. No salt.

Mr. Pathetic

 Dear Mr. Married Tinder man, 

My, what a despicable creature you are in my eyes. 

You know what really gets me. Invariably, each one of you loves your child or children unconditionally. You profess great love for your progeny. But the woman who gave birth to these apples of your eyes have become so redundant. She's a use and throw machine, a DNA replicator that unfortunately, you cannot throw. 

For the few minutes of unpleasant suffering she had to endure while you rolled on and off, for the nine months of physical hell she went through, for the hours of labor in which she rebirthed herself as she gave birth, this is her reward- she is an unwanted specimen. One that still takes care of you and your children's daily needs. 

And you come on Tinder and say you're in an unhappy marriage and want some fun. "Stress buster", some of you have the audacity to say. My God! Why is this woman with you? Have you ever thought about that? Your disgusting habits, your poor sexual performance, your childish immature existence- do you imagine these magnetic qualities are making her stay with you?! 

There should be droves of married women on tinder. That would make sense. This is just pathetic. Yucku. 

Epiphanies, not funny! (Blargh)

I had a series of epiphanies this morning when I was cooking breakfast. I had just checked the phone for the tenth time to see if my brother had replied. My ten year old niece did this wonderful painting of a night sky and I was so thrilled with the picture he sent to me on Whatsapp, that I declared that I would buy it. No response. I waited a day and asked again if I could buy it. No response.

The disappointment suddenly pushed me back to when I was 10 years old. The first time a poem of mine was published in a childrens’ magazine called Gokulam. It was about the rain. I don’t remember much about it, except that it had the word ‘lo’ in it, something that makes me cringe a little. Lol. But I was so proud of the fact that the postman brought a postal order of Rs.10 the next day, which was the magazine’s payment for my poem. I could hardly contain myself. My father bought me a brand new wallet to keep that ten rupee note. I did for a long time.

The next week, in school, my class teacher somehow found out and asked me about it in class. I told her the poem was about the rain. She told me to recite it. Now, I had been writing poems since I started writing words. I had a notebook scribbled with all sorts of nonsense. This poem was just one random piece that I sent to the magazine. No way did I memorize my poems. So I couldn’t recite it entirely. In front of the whole class, she asked me if I had really written it. Instantly, I was crushed. I couldn’t believe the implied accusation. Some of my classmates clearly believed I didn’t write the poem, judging by their skepticism after that class. My glorious achievement had become ‘dirty’ in my little mind.

Thinking back, as I allowed memory after memory to come to the forefront, I realized that this was a pattern in my life. My strict and fearsome father had made sure that I didn’t express myself freely even as a toddler. Every time I did, people tainted it. I was laughed at, mocked, teased, belittled, humiliated and discouraged so many times. It seemed like whenever I reared my head and peeked out of the wall I was slowly building around myself, I pulled myself back in almost immediately, saddened and embarrassed. I did have one or two wonderful people around, but I was too timid with them. To this day, I regret that as a teenager, I never really opened up to my English teacher, a woman I admired from a distance. I wanted to, as I felt like she was the one person in my lonely life who seemed to care. But I was too scared to ‘be me’ with anyone, even at 12 years old.

So, is this where all my problems stem from? My general dislike of being around people for too long, my inability to sustain relationships past a few years, my introverted existence? Was my entire childhood so deeply disturbing to me that I took away from it a general disappointment and lack of faith in people?

Being as shy and quiet as I was, there was one skill that I silently and quite unconsciously picked up- the art of reading people. Most of the time, I know when people lie to me or when they pretend. Be it family or friends, I can tell. I realize now, that every such instance of deceit only strengthened (and continues to strengthen) my reticence. I have always felt this deep hurt when I recognize the lie. It seems to convey a clear message- you are of so little value to this person, that winning/saving face is so much more important.

Ironically, every time I meet someone new, I start off with this complete childlike trust and wonder. But I’m looking. I’m looking and looking. I’m looking for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for the disappointment. Is it fair? No. Not in any universe is it fair to the other person. No one’s perfect. It IS unfair. But then, I am only dishing out what I got, what I learnt. Maybe if I had grown up with my siblings or cousins, I would have taken things lightly. Rough housing could have thickened my skin. As it is, I appear to have taken everything to heart and developed such a strong sense of shame and unnecessary guilt about being inadequate whenever I faced something unpleasant, that I grew up scarred.

Unfortunately, I remained so. I'm grateful for this series of epiphanies I’ve had today. Through the years, I have tried to heal, but there is nothing like understanding to speed up the process.

The one question that saddens me, though, is- have I done all this to myself? People are people. Everyone grows up around others. Should I, as a child, have known better? Was I prone to be sad? These are questions I cannot answer. Not without a time machine.

People privately ask me why I share so much publicly. A couple of reasons. The takeaway- we all learn from each other. Maybe someone who understands this will make sure that their child’s teasing isn’t taken too far in the name of humor. Maybe someone will realize that lying isn’t just about words. Second- I truly believe in vulnerability. I do pull away on one hand, but on the other, I am always willing to share who I am. A contradiction of sorts, I know. You see, there is a difference between believing people are good and that people are good to YOU. That is a powerful statement. Third- I don’t really think that anyone can harm me with what I share. What- is someone going to mock me about having been mocked? Lol. Vulnerability isn’t a weakness. Unawareness is.

That said, I've been sitting here with this, hesitating to hit the 'post' button. Is it too much? TMI? If it is, I apologize.

Going back to how all this began, all I wanted was my niece to feel the way that I felt when I got that ten rupee note. To know that someone recognized that something I had created had value. Real value. Perhaps I am being naive. Times have changed. That little girl is not me. She is probably way more secure and way too worldly to be ecstatic about my offer. Good.

Heavy stuff, all this. I hope you’ve read it, if you’ve gotten this far, as an interesting essay, and not something gloomy. Not all that is worth reading is bloomy. See, I am good at poetry! 

Quarantine Diary- First 3 days

25/6/20 Wednesday

First day of curfew

Although I started self isolation earlier on in March, I was still going out to stock up on things as I realized we needed them. Modi's announcement last night was unnerving even though I expected and welcomed it. It made things more real. One great piece of news is that the renters of our ground floor have closed up shop. As a medical supplier with a few delivery boys going everyday to dozens of hospitals, I was very nervous about their presence. With them gone, I can breathe easier, literally! My only remaining worry is the street cum house dogs. I have to think about that.

26/3/20 Thurdsay

Second day of curfew

I had to make a tough decision today. I have three tiers of dogs-

my house dogs (3)

my street cum house dogs (3)

street dogs (numerous)

When all this started, when I stopped leaving the house, I had to stop going out to feed the street dogs. That was tough. But I made my peace with it. The three street cum house dogs kept me tossing and turning. The ground floor level of my house is partitioned into a sort of front yard and back yard through the use of multiple gates. So Ponni, Kappi and Poppi would sleep in the front yard, eat there and since the gate was open all day, they would roam the streets freely, visiting their dog friends, their favorite vendors and shopkeepers, the few friendly neighbors etc. They had all the perks of street life like freedom and socializing as well as all the comforts of home, such as nutritious food twice a day, warm beds to sleep on and medical care. 

When the lockdown began, I did not know what to do. Though my house dogs and I live on the first floor and mostly use the backyard,  I do have to go to the front portion of the house on a daily basis to feed them and for certain chores. I needed to lock the front gate permanently to keep my house clean and safe for my family and myself. I tried sterilizing surfaces, washing with phenoyl etc., but the bottom line is that I was scared. I didn't know who these three dogs were touching, what they were sitting on...I washed my hands so frequently that the skin there became damaged. Every time they brushed against my clothes, I changed them. So the choice I had to make was- which side of the gate would they be on? Was I to banish them so they have their freedom or imprison them so they can keep their comforts? I wish I could ask them. I made the choice for them and I have kept them inside.

I gave all three of them thorough baths, washed the front and backyard down with soap and sterilized all the surfaces. I now feel so safe. But it hurts my heart to see them sit by the gate and look outside. One might think it's no big deal for just a few weeks, but I do not believe the lockdown will be over that soon. Going by what other countries are doing, 21 days is not going to be enough. It could be months. All that time, they're going to look at me with their deep black eyes, asking me to open the gate so they can do their rounds. 

I'm sorry I can't make them happy because I've made myself safe.

27/3/20 Friday

Third day of curfew

I'm happy that for the past three days, I've been able to harvest vegetables from the terrace garden- radishes, spinach and snake gourd. Of course I can't do that everyday, but it's been really helpful to have this resource. I look forward to getting some green leafies in a few days.

Today was the first morning of the quarantine for the street dogs. Ponni, who spends four hours every morning with her soulmate, a sanitation worker named Nallamma, took it hard. I saw her trying to open the gate with her paws and then with her teeth when she heard Nallamma's whistle. It was tough to see that. I think once a week, I'll let them all go out and them give them complete baths before locking the house down again.

I'm used to a life largely indoors. So this is not that big a deal. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss zooming out on the streets as I went about shopping for this and that. I did make a plan to 'better' myself in this time of enforced isolation. But I haven't been sticking to it. I need to get down to it with a will.

I am also dreaming of garlic naan. I really, REALLY need to stop watching Youtube videos of foreigners eating food in India. It's torture!

Quanrantine Diary- Days leading up to the lockdown

From mid March, I began staying at home as much as possible. I also started stocking up on supplies. From tissues to legumes, vegetables that can be frozen to cleaning supplies, I ensured I had enough for more than a month. I withdrew money from the bank and bought a large bottle isopropane, which I use to make hand sanitizer along with aloe vera, water and essential oils. When things started going south in China, I ordered three 3M face masks on Amazon and kept them for later. I advised my brother in the States to stock up too.

22/3/20 Sunday

Janata curfew - I was incredulous that it is a one day curfew. People followed it here to a large extent. Rang a bell for 10 mins at 5 p.m. to show appreciation for those working essential services. People banged plates and made a lot of noise. Good stuff! Called and told our maid that she should take a paid vacation until further notice. Makes me feel good as she lives in a really crowded, not so hygienic area close by. She knows what precautions to take.

23/3/20 Monday

Went out in mask and gloves to buy watermelon and vitamin c tablets. Couldn't think of anything else I needed to stock up on. 

24/3/20 Tuesday

Modi at 8 p.m. announces curfew for 21 days starting at 12 at night.

Fumes

If there's one thing I've had a problem with of late, it's my temper. Actually, I don't have a problem so much as my family does. Apparently, anger is not an emotion that should be expressed, how much ever the situation warrants it. (I'm talking about words, not tantrums.) So today, I practised that.

My mom buys soap solutions. I don't know why she prefers it to soap powder, but she does. I think she started to last year. The solutions come in a few different colors in plastic bottles. Today, I wanted to wash a batch of my clothes, so I put it in the machine and picked up one of the bottles. It was identical to all the bottles around it. As soon as I unscrewed the top, fumes arose and hit my face. I instantly ran to the nearest tap and washed my eyes, nose and mouth. The bottle contained acid.

That bottle was identical to the ones around it, filled with soap solutions. It was also full. It could have easily splashed out if I had held it too tight when I opened it. In a second, I could have been blinded or disfigured. My life could have changed in an instant. Thankfully, oh so thankfully, that didn't happen.

I calmly told my mom to label stuff like that and keep them in a different location. That was the extent of my reaction. I could have said so many things, asked so many questions. But I didn't.

That's because of something the happened a few days ago. It was something that made me look at my family closely and see exactly what our relationships are based on. I made paneer fried rice, which is a favorite of mine. (Paneer is a firm goat's cheese). My mom always complains that I put too much paneer bits in, whereas I consider that impossible. So when I serve her, I make sure that there aren't too many bits on her plate. A few minutes afterwards, when I looked at her plate, I saw that she was eating the rice, but there were no paneer bits in it at all. I said, "Mom, why didn't you just ask me for paneer when you ran out?" She said," I didn't know how to ask, what you'd say."

I quietly refilled her plate, but later on I burst into tears. I asked her how she could villainize me that way. I take care of her in so many different ways throughout the day, only half of which she knows. I'm tired from all the work that I do, so I do bite when I see things constantly being messed up and being done in ways that means I have to rework them. But that's the extent of it. There is nothing in my behavior that justifies someone being scared to ask for food. For food! Can you imagine? It shocked me to my core.

My family has always been like this. They don't know how to handle emotion, especially when it comes from someone else. They don't know how to take constructive criticism. They process it in the most negative way possible.

I think I have two messages to impart from my experiences with them.

1. Don't villiainize people. Sadness and anger are valid emotions. People may not always express them in the best way, but that does not define who they are. Be fair in a relationship. If you want to play the victim, you have to make others the bad guy. It so unfair to them. My late father got caught in this vicious dynamic and he lived his life being misunderstood and overly frowned upon within his own home.

2. Be efficient and considerate. You may label yourself as a considerate person, but you're not if you don't live with deliberate conscious awareness. There's nothing to be proud of in being disorganized or inefficient or unaware of what needs to be done and just saying,"that's who I am." It just means that someone else is being inconvenienced or picking up the slack. In some cases, like today with the acid, it could actually be dangerous.

We  love people. That comes naturally, especially when you're related to them. But love and like don't always go together. You can love someone, but dislike them intensely as well. And being around them makes you dislike yourself as well, because of the many ways you react to them. It's a terrible, terrible feeling.

I don't usually just outright preach, but I'm making an exception today. Treat each other kindly. Think about what that means. It has a lot to do with who you are, not what you say.

Hayabusa Update!

It's there! 1332 days after being launched, Hayabusa2 reached the asteroid Ryugu on June 27th. Yay! It's now close to the surface and sent back a pic of this surprisingly cute looking asteroid-

It isn't Star Trek, but it's still something. We sent something 280 million kms from earth! And it's near an asteroid, which it will soon land on, collect samples and return! I wish I could reach through my screen and touch this piece of rock :)