Home Alone

It was my decision. It wasn’t too difficult for me. Even when I packed my bags and became the youngest person in the family to step out of home, I was happy. Happy that I was taking my chance at independence, giving myself the liberty to experience new things and exploring the opportunity to handle things alone.

I turned around to catch a glimpse of my parents who refused to leave the premises of the airport until I left; I caught my teary eyed mom, shying away lest I notice her. I ran back for a last hug and picked up my overweight bags. I was fine.

In a new city, it didn’t take me too long to find new friends. But I also witnessed many breakdowns, tears and calls by my friends saying all they wanted to do was go back home. I sat next to them and told them, “It’s going to be okay.”

Three years in the city that became home and there came moments when I was distraught, when I was too sick to move and when I was too heartbroken to speak, but never once did I say, “I just wish to go back home now.” It will be all right I thought.

Graduating hats flew and then I flew to another city. Another new city, another new set of friends and the whole story repeated.

But every time I look back, I wish I was there when my grandma breathed her last, I wish I was there to see my grandpa smile for the last time. Every time my sister sends me a photograph of my dog being sick, I wish I could rush back home and hug him tight, or when my mom sends me a photograph of the newly renovated rooms, I wish I could sit on that new sofa and then dirty the room just like I always do. And then there were those times, when I missed my brother’s engagement, the first in our generation, or when I couldn’t be home to see the elated look on my sister’s face when the guy she liked came home with his family, just because I couldn’t take an off from work. Every new city becomes home for me, yet many a times, I find myself home alone.

I wish to be home at times but every time I can’t, I grow a little bit stronger. 

The long drive

Sam hopped onto the back of the jeep and as they rode through the tunnel, Charlie said “And I swear in that moment we were infinite.” Ever since I had read The Perks of being a Wallflower, this stayed with me. They all had something to worry about, something bothering them but in the company of friends and a long drive back home, it was all forgotten.

In an inebriated condition, my friend and I decided to go for a long drive. Much like Sam, Patrick and Charlie, we too had a lot going on or so we thought. Small issues that we were assuming to be life threatening, petty worries that seemed to never leave our side and a constant doubt about getting what we need. I was hesitant at first. After a night of cribbing and worrying about every possible thing, hitting the bed seemed to be the perfect option. But then the possibility of wandering into the unknown scared yet intrigued me and so we were off.

We were silent at first and then slowly, pouring out the thoughts in our minds we tried to form words around them. As the roads grew darker and the music grew louder, we sank back into our seats and just let it all in. We spoke in broken sentences yet we didn’t have to explain what we wanted to say.

As I stood up the sunroof, I understood what Charlie had meant. The loud music seemed faint as the wind brushed along my face and right then, I lived for that moment. For no worry, no pain could stand next to the feeling of being liberated and just being out there. When I sat back down, the both of us laughed as the songs changed from the mellow tracks to the Bollywood numbers.

And in that moment, we were infinite. I didn’t care about anything for I was in the company of a friend who understood, who would stand up for me yet let me be when I want to.

Once I reached home, the following made even more sense. And this is also to my dear friend, who has the same going on in his head.

“It’s much easier to not know things sometimes. Things change and friends leave. And life doesn’t stop for anybody. I wanted to laugh. Or maybe get mad. Or maybe shrug at how strange everybody was, especially me. I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and then make the choice to share it with other people. You can’t just sit there and put everybody’s lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can’t. You have to do things. I’m going to do what I want to do. I’m going to be who I really am. And I’m going to figure out what that is. And we could all sit around and wonder and feel bad about each other and blame a lot of people for what they did or didn't do or what they didn't know. I don’t know. I guess there could always be someone to blame. It’s just different. Maybe it’s good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there. Because it’s okay to feel things. I was really there. And that was enough to make me feel infinite. I feel infinite.”

A silent day

As I turned the keys around and opened the door, the air of familiarity surrounded me. It’s amazing how after having lived in various different rooms in the past four years, each one of them has been home to me, how coming back to the same bed just after one night feels like two lovers who had been torn apart by distance are now finally reunited. Too drastic a feeling I say that simply implies to the feeling I knew I had when I looked forward to spending the day at home, alone.

There are rare occasions when the hostel is not bustling with activity. Someone getting ready to go to work as someone else can be seen whipping up a recipe for the lunch or the boys from the other end sipping into their early morning tea as they once again start the conversation about the error in the pages (symptoms of working for a newspaper and living with the same people). But no, today was different. The Bengalis in the hostel, barring one, were off on their rendezvous with their beloved Kolkata and Durga Pujo, while the others were still sound asleep when I entered. The silence didn’t unnerve me. Instead, it made the day look all the more inviting.

A long nap later, which was interrupted by many phone calls from friends and family, I woke up as the half day had passed. Yet, it felt like there was a long way to go. I checked my phone for the possibility of a text. Disappointed. Time passed. Numerous songs and a movie later, nothing changed.

I walked out of the room and the corridor was in complete darkness. I walked up to switch on the lights and peeked to see what were the others upto. That’s when it dawned upon me. I was alone in the hostel on the rare occasion of a general holiday. I walked up to the window and saw the lights put up all around, the TV switched on in the apartment across the street, music blaring from a speaker somewhere and chaos on the roads. And here I was, perfectly comfortable in the silence.

The mind goes back to many things. The first meeting, the unfinished conversation and the wait. And then I wrote. As I wrote, I wound back into the silence, in the comfortability of the absence of everything and I lay there alone, in the company of dreams. 

The insanity of it all

I have been talking, writing, reading about love for a long time now. Described it as an emotion that I have lost, a feeling that I'm longing to have and a sin I don't want to commit. And while I'm hopping around with a particular kind of feeling towards the concept of love every other day, what amazes me is how each finds its best interest in me. How despite being disappointed in love, you fall back in that mess of confused feelings and yet move on merely because of the fact that you have to. 

A recent episode made me wonder, how attraction is opposed to love. When you face rejection even though it's just an attraction, it kills you from inside because you thought about the prospect of a 'love' with the person. It might seem irrational, stupid yet you can't control it. You are not ready to commit yet you are hoping for a commitment because the thought of love knocking your door again anytime soon seems like a difficult plan. You try to be practical, straightforward and make sure that you don't make a fool out of yourself, but that's only what you try. The reality however lies in a lot of "Shit, I can't believe I just did that" 

So why then do we allow that attraction to grow into love? To linger on for long enough to make us want more with each passing? 

Because we feel it's our shot at love, it's our chance of having our fairytale. And even though we maybe disappointed, we need to take a leap of faith. Do those stupid things because you don't have anything to lose. And if you do lose it, like they say, probably it never was yours. 

If you are worrying about being confused, don't. Because you will always be. For I am too. Like a dear friend whom I accuse of never giving me advice told me, "I still told him because it was important for me. Even when I knew that he didn't feel the same way. I don't think it makes me any less of a person." Or like the other friend who always says the right thing told me, "But also ask yourself, is it worth it?" And then came the other one who has understood me always told me, "We will always be asking questions." And I quote her blog here, "But "what ifs" are sometimes better than a complete "no"." 

Now, I'll tell you my version. Maybe not today, but the day I feel that this attraction is love I will not be scared to go ahead with it. Right now, I'll settle with the what if. 

And to my dear friends, I'll be fine soon, for this too shall pass. 

The worst feeling

I was angry. Angry because I was fighting with one of my closest friends. Angry, because of the fact that I take friendship too seriously. I was so angry that there were tears streaming down my face and all I wanted to do was talk. Talk to someone.

And what angered me more was, when I looked at my contact list I didn’t know whom to call. Who was the one person I could call and not worry about sounding silly. And I knew more than anyone, I missed you at that moment.

It’s been a long time since we last talked and I didn’t want to bother you. I just can’t. Even though I know, you would be more than happy to listen to me right now but I just couldn’t pick up the phone to call. I know I have moved on and I know, somewhere you have to.

That’s what I have been looking for. For someone to talk to in my worst of days even though I might run the risk of sounding like the silliest person. For someone to laugh with and shout in joy, just because I’m happy. For someone whom I could depend upon emotionally without having to worry about my heart being crushed. For it has happened, more than once.

Which is why, over the years, I have conditioned myself to not let my sorrow out easily. I know there are friends with whom I can share my disappointments, my worries but when I have to cry, I cry alone. Because I know they would say "Stop crying". But what no one understands is that sometimes you have to cry because you haven’t for too long and you are letting go of the many things that bother you. Those things that bother you but you are too afraid to talk about them. And I know at this point, you would have let me cry and just as I would be sobbing, you would make me laugh.

I know it’s not the same anymore. But at least, I know what I’m looking for. 

If that's what you want

I’ll find the places where you hide.

I’ll be the dawn on your worst night.

To find love so pure, to believe in a feeling that rises above all and to trust in an emotion that submerses you in the depth of sadness and at the same time, uplifts you in the best of spirits, is for the lack of any other word, extraordinary. As I write this, someone might be writing the letter of love and at the same time, someone else might be crying into their pillows. All, for love.

The contradictory complexities of love, startle me. While sometimes it is as easy as walking into a bar and offering a drink to someone only to strike up a conversation that lasts forever, it’s also as difficult as holding on to a love lost, for years together, because you fear you won’t find it again. And each in its own regard is called love.

The frustrating confusions about love, bother me. Some say that love is all about giving while a few others say that love understands that you don’t have to give it all. Love is different for all yet it’s the one thing that holds them together.

The fights on love, anger me. It’s a bond that makes us let go of many others. But why? Why can’t love be an entity that’s understood by all beyond the upheavals of religion, caste, sex? We say that we need to fight for our love, but when do we stop fighting? Fighting for an emotion that just comes naturally to us.

Even then, the hope and faith people have in love, makes me dream. That after having eased out the complexities, solved the confusion and won the fight, people will always believe in love. They are sad, they are scared but still they never stop believing for what is life if not going that extra mile every other day, because that’s what “you” wanted. 

Randomness

It’s been more than a week that I have been meaning to write. Write about what was happening in my life. I was so preoccupied with the thoughts that I didn’t want to let go off and the presumption that things would change. But the truth is, everytime I would sit down write, things would actually change but only in an unexpected manner that pulled me back into this pool of confusion.

A random meeting, followed by a few others and then many drunken nights with a completely new bunch of friends, that’s how the past two weeks of my life can be described as. I shocked a few by my decisions and sometimes even myself, but it felt right.*I feel so right doing the wrong thing*

So yes. It has been a strange time where I found myself excited at the silliest of reasons, disappointed with an even sillier thing and then rising right back up dismissing all of them. It got me a lot of “You should be careful” and “Don’t get drunk” from Miss P, “Just doesn’t feel right” from Miss Paul and “I’m telling you out of experience” from Miss D. And these three being the ones I depend on without giving a second thought, I tried to defend my stance even though I knew I was doing the wrong thing. It involved a lot of “conference room” meetings to discuss the latest updates, a lot of phone calls and texts but what amazed me was my decision to go ahead with it anyway.

Why so?

Because it just felt so liberating. Because somewhere in the stupidity, I remembered my old times. Because sometimes in those drunken nights, I just let myself be.

I remember telling Miss Paul one day, that I want to let go of the things that are holding me back and just do something that I have never done before. And that was the day, I met A. Now, before you start thinking, no, it wasn’t something magical or love kinds. But in more ways than not, the whole episode was flattering. It had been really long since someone told me I looked pretty and took out time to talk to me. Considering the complexities of my past relationships which had made me believe that it never happens, A put me in the most awkward of places yet made me like it. I don’t know him or his friends even though I have spent quite a lot of time with them but I took a leap of faith.

And even though, I know it means nothing and I know that it’s just one of those things that happen these days, this random meeting with A and his friends, has put a smile on my face and until it lasts, I want to just let go of things that have me cramped emotionally and take the plunge of randomness.