Dear readers, this Christmas I have no stories of going home, of Dubai, of India, of family, of travel, of different scenes, of sad partings... I am where I am and I am neither happy nor sad...I am sort of at peace...I feel that throughout my childhood and life I have had a tendency to want to hold tightly to people or things...the physical presence or tangibility always seemed very important to me... I am slowly moving into a zone where—maybe it's a sign of maturity? or wisdom?—where just knowing I am loved and the memories I have made seem something to be grateful for... I feel like I don't even need to care if there are reciprocal feelings... because my own heart feels full... of love and blessings... not just of those in my life but those who have left for the heavenly abode as one says... I feel, sitting alone in this house tonight, this Christmas eve... as if they're watching over me... faintly proud, faintly smiling... look, how strong she's become... I feel like I am surrounded by love on all sides and that's more than one can ask for on Christmas... in my younger years I used to see things from a fixed perspective... I now see things with more nuance, I think... I now see people function differently and though it's hard to see things their way sometimes... just the idea that there are many ways makes one realise that... as someone once said... that even if they don't seem to love one the way one would want them to, it doesn't mean they don't love with all they have... I think about some of the things people did and do for me and indeed... if that's not a show of love, I don't know what is... I feel like I must cherish it more for what it is...instead of wanting to box it somehow… and maybe that's something to take into the next year... other than hope... which is a topic for another post!

Don't know why I went into a tangent there, but you, my dear reader, you know you always see more of this more-reflective-than-usual side of me in the Christmas-Birthday months...though this time you might have to bear even more of it what with me being cooped up in myself :)

Merry Christmas!

When something gives us a lot of pleasure, why do we start questioning it? Maybe because the things that usually give us pleasure are said to be not good for us…? Like, eating sweet treats or watching the telly all the time. We start perhaps looking at the things that give us pleasure with some suspicion, as if the very fact means that there is something forbidden about it, and therefore must not be indulged. I wonder if there is some religious austerity logic that gets embedded in our brains, that anything that is indulgent, pleasing, and so on must be the devil tempting us. Eve was after all tempted by an apple and look where that got us! Though for the life of me I wouldn't know what's to be tempted by an apple! So, I am telling myself, about quite a harmless activity that I am enjoying terribly, that I must curtail its frequency. I asked myself why and the answer stripped to its bones would be that the fact that I am having so much pleasure out of it means there must be something wrong about it, and as I am not finding anything inherently wrong, I am looking for something to fault in it by stretching its implications. In a way I am invoking a guilt mechanism in advance of the fact so to speak! Makes me also wonder if the things said to one in childhood or the austerities one is put through sort of leave a permanent regulating effect. You can't escape them no matter how much you try.

I spoke to an uncle after a long time today. I was told he was remembering me quite a bit. The fact is being the nostalgic person I am, I remember my childhood scenes and the favourite people in it quite a lot too. I am never one to forget a deeply cherished memory or person. But as I have evolved, the people of my childhood haven't. It's like I cannot relate to them as I did when I was a child and they don't seem to have the mental or emotional apparatus to relate to me. This uncle, every time I speak to him, makes it a point to ask me why I am still studying...at my age! When will I stop? And he says it so nonchalantly, innocently, benignly like he is enquiring after my well-being. I have no words to respond to him because he has no malicious intentions nor does he have a clue how this question appears to me. In a way this question doesn't appear to me as anything but ignorant but even so it leaves me dumbfounded and at a loss. Now it might be evident why I don't really feel so much like calling this uncle if you also take into account that I am by nature very resistant to making small talk calls. There is no sensible response I can give to this uncle to this almost certain question because it's not just the view but the entire worldview that's at issue here. And it's a worldview that's too firmly fixed at his age. So I just make some noncommittal noises… I wonder though if he can't even tell that such a question could annoy or hurt me... this complete lack of emotional intelligence seems the most bizarre to me, not the difference in worldview which can be easily attributed to him being a product of a different world...

Maybe I should be

Much less truthful

Say a little nice lie

Speak a little softer

Tell you not what

I actually think

Make you guess

Hidden links

And maybe you could be

A lot more truthful

Put it like it is

Hit it where it hurts

Dodge not

Nor skirt around

Go for the blow

Aim the spear

Miss not the mark

All plain and clear

Or maybe we two could

Stare a long while

Into the great and hidden depths

Of our souls

Where you will find me

And I you

If only we would look...

~ Me

Staring into the distance

Nobody home

Only silence

Permeates the air

Slightest sounds

Startle me

Then recognising

My strange aloneness

I smile

Nobody home

December this year

Unlike any

No anticipation

Excitement

No thrill

What shall I buy?

For the little ones

Have I forgotten

To pack something

One week to go

I would have thought

And then I'll be Home

But this time round

All seems bleak

Nobody home

What I’m going to say may sound un-empathetic or even arrogant but that’s not where I am coming from at all. I guess seeing things from a fundamentally “thinking” perspective rather than “feeling” (recall my post on MBTI and that I am an INTJ with T being Thinking), makes me see this very differently. I’m referring to a tendency that seems quite dominant in almost every context to coddle mediocrity or make it seem okay to be just okay or mediocre or to make it seem as if expecting more from oneself is almost like punishing oneself or denying oneself “self-care”. This mediocrity is so rampant that if a person makes it quite plain that certain things are just beyond their capacity no matter how much they try, the answer from a “feeling” population will usually be that whatever they are doing is enough and others need to recognise this and not trouble this person—because they are clearly trying their best. The term “impostor syndrome” has lost all meaning because everyone is suffering from this syndrome apparently. The term is meant to imply a person who is actually quite good but doesn’t believe in themselves. They suspect they are just an impostor trying to fool others and not competent at all. The real test of whether one is suffering from this syndrome or in actual fact an impostor is that the one with the syndrome will usually get good external feedback. This will make them think that they are successful in fooling people rather than that they know their stuff…because of the syndrome. The one who is an impostor or technically incompetent does not usually receive good feedback from the external world; however, because everyone these days is supposed to be competent at everything and only suffering from impostor syndrome, instead of taking this feedback seriously the actual impostor will continue to think they are suffering from impostor syndrome and that people around them just don’t get them.

While it might seem like I am putting down people as incompetent, on the contrary, I am not using the word incompetent in general as a label for the person but incompetent in the context of the work the person is trying to do. This could mean that someone who has absolutely no ability to write keeps trying to get published, keeps getting negative feedback, keeps feeling discouraged, then being told by all and sundry that they only need to keep making an effort, and they will get there. What irks me is that it seems as if the feelers are being empathetic and helping this person gain confidence, but in actual fact they are only derailing the process of introspection and self-evaluation, and what is more important, denying them the possibility of exploring options where they might actually find fulfilment instead of being met with constant frustration.

I guess it also boils down to the question of whether people would prefer to spend their lives doing things they excel at or intrinsically enjoy, or alternatively, doing things that they have somehow stumbled into and wouldn’t mind just getting by. If it is the latter, then my way of thinking or advice would be at odds and the feelers are right in giving the person false comfort. They are not telling this person what they already do know but making them feel validated for the conscious choice of mediocrity. It works in general because everyone in this tribe is looking for the same general validation or commiseration… anyone questioning the validity of this choice on the other hand might be seen as a villain for reasons that are explicitly different from the implicit ones just pointed out.

I bid farewell to one of the few friends I had made since coming here. This has made me think about how people come into and go out of our lives. When I look back, I realise that having this friend helped me get through some of the toughest times in the past few years. It wasn't as if they did anything practically, but I had a listening ear and someone to talk to when I needed it the most. Those issues sorted to my advantage eventually, and by the time they did, the friend also went on their own life path. It almost seems like I had a friend when I needed one, and when they served their purpose in a way, they weren't in my life anymore. I see this as something of a pattern...as if people come into your life expressly to teach you something or nudge you to do something you can't find the courage or clarity to do or to be a source of comfort when things are proving difficult for you...and the moment you have passed over the bridge, they seem to disappear or drift off.

I find myself feeling slightly melancholy and nostalgic (what a surprise!) with this turn of thought. Also because, another thing strikes me, which didn't when I was much younger. A sense of the finality of things, of the never-to-be-again nature of events. I am conscious of how I will most likely never see this friend again in this lifetime. It's like Shakespeare’s stage where the actors move out after playing their respective parts and don't make an appearance again... in this case even in the final act or even to say goodbye one last time. The moment you see them for the last time is now…because life is finite, and it ends abruptly and sooner than one thinks. I will come across other actors in the journey forward who will serve their purposes and play their roles in my life story... but as it always happens I will not know the value of the part they will play in my life or cherish it in quite the same way...till it’s time to bid adieu. That time or moment becomes poignant not because you lose the person forever in a way, because they would have already played their part and drifted away, but because it becomes a moment in which you grieve all such moments gone by, and more so, all such moments still to come… You know you have to dig deep to muster all the strength you have… to go on… in spite of, despite,… because life goes on.

I am thinking about the words "opinionated" and "judgmental". Why are having an opinion or showing judgment made out to be bad things? Most people have no opinions, at least informed ones, and most people have no judgment, at least well-deliberated ones. So, instead of encouraging people to form opinions, to make critical evaluations, to cultivate themselves in a way in interaction with the world of ideas, why do we pull down those who show strong opinions or express strong judgments? Granted that just having an opinion or a judgment does not make it a right or a wise one but I would say these sort of people have at least made an effort to engage their mind in some way, they at least show an interest in committing to a point of view, they at least care in the broad sense of the term to know themselves or the world through themselves? I have sympathy for this type but the other type... that sits on the fence calmly while the world drifts by tilting neither this way nor that...they get my goat. No, actually, they don't get my anything ;)

Lately I have been reflecting quite a bit about rules. I was asked to become an admin of an FB humour group—if you find that funny, so did I...hehe...but that's because I am perhaps at my most serious and intense on this blog—but to get to the point...as the admin one of the things one has to do is accept or reject members into the group. Those requesting membership have to fill a few fields including check a box agreeing to the group rules. The rules are standard stuff like being respectful and all that. Now it turns out that a lot of membership requestors were not ticking this check box; the reason is unknown. About 7-8 of us admins and moderators had a discussion about this and almost everyone felt that people who didn't tick this box about the group rules should not be given access to the group.

I was the only one who felt differently and this made me delve into my head a bit more. It's not that I am in favour of people breaking the rules or being disrespectful or some such, obviously not, quite the contrary. However, given that this checkbox wasn't something like an official contract, breaking which you would be liable to be penalised, my logic was this: 1. When it comes to humour, tastes differ. So, even if a person agrees to abide by the rules and to not post something disrespectful or offensive, they still could if their tastes were different. 2. Since agreeing to the rules and then breaking them didn't come with a penalty, there was no reason they wouldn't still do it if they were the type of people who generally did. 3. If people didn't tick the checkbox because they intentionally wanted to reject the rules, that would show they were people with too much integrity to actually break basic rules like respect! In this sense I would consider not ticking the box an oversight rather than deliberate. 4. How many people read the rules before ticking the box to join an FB group, especially a humour group? So what does ticking even mean really in this scheme of things? Given these many reasons, and I could think of more, it was quite surprising to me that people thought it was better to reject members than accept them just because they didn't tick the box. Of course, one could ask why mention the rules at all at the time of joining then but I think it is quite alright to mention them to show we hold these values or expect them to be abided by but whether people abide by them or not should best be evaluated in their actions rather than as part of a tick box exercise.

I guess we are so used to living in the tyranny of rules that agreeing to the rules—no matter what the context—has become a rule above all. It seems something of a blasphemy to us that someone does not agree and we are not able to think beyond the crime of rule-breaking for the sake of it, not able to reason beyond the rule, not able to ask ourselves whether the rule itself serves a purpose or not able to take the entirety of the situation into account. We seem to hold the rule above the individual...and in this sense the group above the individual though the identity of the group itself is reduced to nothing but rule following.

I wish…

Sometimes little

And sometimes too much

Like a beggar

Who thinks

Even a little goes a long way

And then like a queen

For whom a feast must be a feast of record

I yoyo

Oscillate

In my head

And in my heart

Sometimes angry, stung

And then compliant, indulgent

I wish…

To be

Proud, haughty

Churlish even

But what are the chances

You’d notice?

My airs and graces

And then

I couldn’t bear

If you turned away

A risk

Not worth the taking…

~ Me

Validation. Why do we need it? Why do we want people to acknowledge our gestures, to make us feel like we matter, make us believe that they care, make us valuable in our own eyes in a sense? Why? Isn't it quite enough that I know, just know, that I do matter... not to a person or someone but that my existence is not a fluke, an accident, an aberration. It is determined, it is deliberate, it is designed, it mattered enough. It might seem like I am saying that I matter to God and maybe it boils down to it if you look at it this way, but my counterpoint is that if all this is untrue and I do not matter to God and thereby I am nothing and no one in the scheme of things, then, I do not matter at all. My mattering to another human being would not have much significance in this state of affairs either because we would be both meaningless in the grand design. Can one mouse validate another...? Well, nor could we validate each other if we were akin to mice...but if we are something much more, then I come validated into the world already and if I seek validation then my internal validation should be as good as any external one. It would after all be invested in me by a higher power.

I was wondering about why I have so little to share on my blog these days. I think it’s the lack of anything going on in one’s life with the way things are. You don’t expect anything out of the ordinary to occur in video meetings, you don’t really hang around anywhere waiting to catch any drippings of gossip, you don’t go to the office and bump into colleagues to exchange long drawn out complaints… it’s like life is at a standstill. I actually can’t believe it’s almost December because time seems to have stopped for the last many months. My dear readers are aware that this is the time I would be preparing to go home and starting to get moony-eyed by the thought of home… but it looks like this year I will be spending Christmas alone. The prospect makes me sad when I dwell on it… which is why I try not to…

I was working on something for the past few weeks that made me think a bit more deeply about how my gender and ethnicity influence the outcomes I achieve in my life, or in other words, how the cards are stacked against me in this regard. It’s not that I have never thought about this but it’s always been more at a subconscious level. For instance, when I first introduce myself as a tutor to a class I am extremely conscious of how I might be judged. I wonder how the students perceive me and a large part of this perception analysis draws from my racial and gender identity. I feel like I might be perceived as not good enough on first impression or that I need to prove myself or my worth against whatever impression they have of me… all because I am an Indian woman. I imagine that some identities do not experience this sense of being judged as someone with lower worth or face this challenge of having to prove their worth. It’s as if they are taken to be good enough at face value, and because they don’t have to really do anything to earn this good impression except be who they are, it’s not so difficult to sail through. However, for those of us who are not the receivers of such instant goodwill based on our ethnicity or gender or worse still both, there is a steep uphill climb.

Even though I am supremely confident about my abilities and the quality of my work in general, I have never been able to transfer this confidence in relation to the opportunities that come my way or the outcomes I achieve. I generally have, as you my readers know very well, put this lack of confidence down to my luck. The truth is though that luck is attached to one’s circumstances in life, to who one was born to, as what, where, and so on. It is not an abstract luck but a luck that is configured into the systems and structures of the real world and that either works in one’s favour or doesn’t… In spite of being conscious of the practical dynamics of how much of what we call luck operates I think of it in the abstract, as something mystical and universally ordained… in a way it is because we did not choose our circumstances…but in another way I tend to do so because it helps me focus my efforts on what is in my own control…rather than on something that I am powerless to fight against.

I feel like I am putting out fires all the time these days, no, this year. Some or the other problem keeps popping up and just as I solve it heaving a sigh of relief, another one pops up. This is keeping me on edge because I am anticipating new fires, new things to go wrong, and I am unable to relax. The good thing is most problems are small and even quickly resolved but the process is proving exhausting, mentally and emotionally… like jumping from one roller coaster to the other not knowing when I will finally settle back on the ground...especially considering I hate roller coasters.

I was thinking today that I have a very strong personality with its own quirks which only very few people are really able to "get" and fewer still are able to handle much less nurture. In spite of all the fires and storms brewing in my life I feel like I have the good fortune of being under a nurturing influence or under the shade of a huge tree. Because of all the stuff going wrong lately I am worried about things that might potentially go wrong...with my superstitious senses working overtime! What would happen when I no longer have this nurturing influence as indeed it does have an expiry date not too far in the future. What then? Will I feel like a child who goes out into the real world and realises how sheltered and protected it is…and wants to run back home. I can't imagine how it must feel if the child has no home to run back to. But perhaps it will learn to face the world? The truth is that I have faced the world for most of my life…but when you find a home and become used to its comfort and shelter, you want to hold on to it. Which is why people call it a ‘comfort zone’ I guess. But I mustn’t forget that I left the biggest comfort zone of my life when I ventured to this country all alone. I have done it before and I can do it again when the time comes. Except, a part of me wishes I won’t have to… and then I realise that everything is actually alright with the world… at least for now…because I am in my home zone.  

I am a bit lost for thoughts these days as you can no doubt tell. Or maybe it’s just the worry and stress of getting things moving from my plate… I feel like I don’t have time to sit back, relax, enjoy stuff for the sake of it. I was thinking to myself just the other day that until a year ago I always made it a point to not do any work on weekends, then I gradually started slipping in work on a Saturday, and now I seem to be working the entire weekend. This is not to say that I don’t take any break, of course I do… I do it after I am done with a deadline which is a good chunk of a month or more when I go slightly easy on myself for at least a week. The problem as I see it is that I enjoy a lot of aspects of my work say for instance the reading and because I enjoy it I very often feel like I didn’t actually do any work or that I did something ‘easy’ but the truth is that it’s something that absorbs the mind fully and is not really the same as taking a proper break or going easy.

I want to get back to my earlier schedule of not doing any work on weekends. It would be a bit harder these days to follow this because I can’t enjoy activities like pottering about the city or browsing in the shops the way I used in pre-COVID times… if I am at home then I feel that I might as well start reading something. But I think it’s worth forcing myself to think of something entirely different from anything to do with my work or research. Maybe cook something more elaborate or organise shelves or go for a longish walk or something of the kind. I feel that ultimately this will also benefit my work… I have always observed that when you come back from breaks you come with a fresh mind or see things with new eyes… I feel like I need more of that fresh perspective or fresh mind now. In a way by not taking proper breaks I have only been giving it less rather than more. I am hoping to correct this…not just from a work perspective but also as part of self-care. Let’s see how it goes :)

The new academic year has rolled in. Other than the chillier air outside everything seems rather different for this time of the year. Like we have all retreated into the internet and we can only reach out to each other in this artificial mode. To me the calendar seems to have stopped after last December when I came back from Dubai… and it seems another dimension of the surreal that I am going to be facing December again. What happened in between… nothing and everything… I know I write these posts longing for the old normal off and on…but I do long for it. I guess the passing of time which when I was much younger never weighed on me seems like another weight to bear. In a game one would expect to get a time-out or something if one took a break or expect the timer to be stopped when one is not engaging in activity, but there is no stopping the universal clock. We may make no use of all this time but it is still being counted… we are still getting older, by the day or month or year. It sort of makes me think about the fact that I never really thought about making time count when it wasn’t held hostage like it is now… it’s not like I was living every minute of it though I guess living every minute of it in someone else’s sense is not what I would do with it even if I had a free run of it now… but what I mean is mental freedom or the freedom to do what one liked, go where one liked, or just experience the normal routines of life… one can want the normal and mundane as much as one can want the exciting and adventurous, can one not? And one never thinks that even the normal and mundane will not be possible so this snatching away of it does make one think about it as one never thought before.

Speaking of routines, I have been sort of feeling a bit more debbie downish in the past week or so. Last year around this time I wrote about my new housemates and how it all turned out for the better… I was not expecting new housemates this time though there was every reason for me to expect them and as usual I resisted the change with all my might by settling into a sad mood. I couldn’t have gone on forever in this state so I am back to looking at the situation’s brighter side… it is brighter to be honest. I’ll perhaps reserve more about it for one of my next posts :)

I finished a piece of work a week ago. When I started it about two months ago I just didn’t know how I would ever be able to see the end of it. It seemed to be one of those things that one wished to see the end of but one couldn’t bear to start… if you know what I mean. After I ended it I actually marvelled at it… I found it difficult to imagine that I had actually managed to do it…that I had actually painstakingly and laboriously written all those words on paper and filled all those pages with words. It seemed as if the whole thing must have magically dropped from heaven or that some inspired spirit must have moved me to write it… that’s how I feel at the end, surveying the whole work, very different from at the beginning when every step or word seems heavy…

Someone shared the following excerpt today and it resonated with me. I guess this is the attitude with which I try to approach my work too. Though I want nothing more than to reach the end, I know that reaching the end wouldn’t satisfy me if I don’t have something good to show for the journey…

-------------------

“You see, Momo,' he [Beppo Roadsweeper] told her one day, 'it's like this. Sometimes, when you've a very long street ahead of you, you think how terribly long it is and feel sure you'll never get it swept.'

He gazed silently into space before continuing. 'And then you start to hurry,' he went on. 'You work faster and faster, and every time you look up there seems to be just as much left to sweep as before, and you try even harder, and you panic, and in the end you're out of breath and have to stop - and still the street stretches away in front of you. That's not the way to do it.'

He pondered a while. Then he said, 'You must never think of the whole street at once, understand? You must only concentrate on the next step, the next breath, the next stroke of the broom, and the next, and the next. Nothing else.'

Again he paused for thought before adding, 'That way you enjoy your work, which is important, because then you make a good job of it. And that's how it ought to be.'

There was another long silence. At last he went on, 'And all at once, before you know it, you find you've swept the whole street clean, bit by bit. What's more, you aren't out of breath.' He nodded to himself. 'That's important, too,' he concluded.”

~Michael Ende, Momo