Is this my life?

Note: This piece is part of Creative Writing series.

I am walking on a lonely road. The road is not dark. It is illuminated by the yellow lamps of the shops on the side. It is populated by people walking beside me, ahead of me, people on the other side. I do not know any of them. I do not speak most of their language.

I live in a solitary room. The walls are far away from each other. From the window, I hear rain fall on leaves of trees. I can hear crows caw if I wake up from a nightmare in the morning. I live on my own. I do not speak. I watch my life unfold in text messages, social media posts. I do not really do anything – I do not take decisions. I feel confused: at what point in life do you intervene the river of life and try to course it to the tune of your free will? At what point do you take charge?

Life is passing by. I fight my poor posture, keep straightening my back which invariably slumps back to a more comfortable but potentially harmful position. My teeth ache from time to time, I keep postponing the visit to the dentist. I think under my bed the plastic bowl of food is still lying. I did not cook today. I do not feel like it. I eat junk knowing fully well that is not what I should be doing.

Days are passing by. The love I care about flit through my grasp. I look at his picture on my phone, knowing well that it is futile. We are not meant for each other. Yet, sometimes, most times, in fact, every day, I lie in my bed, hoping for miracles to happen, while somehow being fully aware that the odds are steeped against me. In fact, there has never been the promise of a relationship.

I am at a fork in my life, slouching through it. On my morning walks, I meet the squirrels on the boundary of my apartment. I do not have any relationship with them. I want to Google what squirrels eat, but I do not know if they will come near me even if I take them food they like to eat. I do not wish to take chances. Somehow, I do not want to influence anything. Somehow, I just want to let life run its course, and watch it like a passive audience.

Is this my life? Or is this the shadow of someone else’s life that I am living?

The Happiness Project | Day 5

Yesterday, unfortunately, there was no post added on The Happiness Project. I did make a promise to write everyday for the rest of the month. However, I just ended up lying on my bed and watching SUITS the entire day.

This is what today’s post is about: not SUITS, but being unable to keep commitments.

I have always been someone who has been able to keep promises. I usually always finished my school homework on time. My lab reports in college were always filled. I am never behind on my bills. I repaid my education loan on time.

But there are other things in which I am consistently falling behind: things which are personal, which do not require external commitments. I am not able to keep the promises I make to myself.

In December, last year, I started my YouTube channel. I had been posting videos on them consistently. Recently I crossed the 100 subscribers milestone as well. My channel is growing. On the one hand, it makes me happy. On the other, I am losing motivation to keep making the videos. It does not feel like a lot of work, really. But I am struggling to come up with new ideas to execute videos every week. Besides, with every video I put out, the pressure is to get a little better every time. I do not want to put up something just for the sake of putting it.

Over the course of last two years, I have realized one thing about myself: I function best when there are set goals that I have to reach. I did well in school and college because we had set grades to get and I managed my schedule around that. Now that everything is fuzzy, I am struggling to take decisions. How much money is enough money? How much should I save every month? What should by my next five year plan?

I have made plans before, plans which were sort of people-dependent. The people moved on, and I had to forget those plans and make new ones. The solution seems simple: to remove people-dependency. Logically, I know this is the right thing. But deep inside my heart, there is this craving to do something together, to share my life with people who care, to be around people who make me smile and share the same appreciation of life as I do. Such people are hard to come by, as I am not in a situation in life where I meet a lot of people in my everyday life. Plus, I am living far from my immediate family.

Somehow, coping with all this is hard. I find it hard these days to drag myself out of bed and be the boss of my own life. But that said, at least I am making efforts to live each day, without giving up on living life. Somewhere, I have this hope that things will start getting better, somewhere down in the timeline. Somewhere, I will start meeting the people that I will need in my life. And for now, perhaps that is enough.

The Happiness Project | Day 1

There are times in our lives when we are at a certain juncture. In these moments, you need to take a hard, long look at your life and make certain changes.

For a large part of 2017, I was depressed. For me, depression manifests in two forms:

1. Self-loathing, crying at the sad state of life and starting to believe that nothing better will happen again
2. Being unable to sustain happiness for a long time, frequent mood swings through the day

2018 is an important year in my life. I have been out of college for the last three years. I have been working in my first job for close to 2.5 years. There has been a lot of learning. To be honest, I am a much confident woman today than I was 2.5 years back. But this confidence has come at the cost of desensitization. I am a lot more confident today because I care a lot less. I also understand that most things in life come in phases, so the bad times are not going to be permanent. But that the same time, I have seen good things end and I have been finding it very difficult to adjust to it. Nothing feels permanent anymore, and to an extent, it is true. Nothing really is permanent.

This is something that has been bugging me for a while now. If you know nothing is permanent, how do you still find sources of happiness in everyday living? How do you stop yourself from feeling negative?

I don’t have a direct answer to that. But to answer the question, I decided to take a look at my childhood self. When I was younger, I could just laugh at silly things. I was so full of curiosity. When we got internet connection at home for the first time, for limited number of hours in a day, I used to literally make a list of things I wanted to search. There was a hunger to learn new things. Today, I have internet access 24*7, but I rarely search things. I don’t download movies by the GB from Torrent anymore. Desensitized to everything, like I said.

I feel that in order to be happy again, I need to find that childhood version of myself and find out what her priorities were:

1. Learn new things
   1. Read more books
   2. Watch more movies
   3. Learn a language
   4. Learn to play an instrument
   5. Learn about world history
   6. Learn about world politics
2. Travel the world
3. Meet new people
4. Converse in English
   1. Improve vocabulary
   2. Improve pronunciation
5. Build her own home
6. Grow plants
7. Achieve goals
8. Grow hair long
9. Be a boss
10. Write everyday, be a published author

When you are a kid, there are set goals in life. After you get a job, the goals are not that clearly defined. When do you switch your job? How much money should be you saving every month? When do you start planning for your marriage? Will you ever find true love?

None of these questions have textbook answers. Everybody’s situation is different, everyone is trying to find the answers in their own ways.

Anyways, the goal for me, for the remaining part of 2018 is to reconnect with that childhood version of myself, be the person who I always wanted to be as I was growing up.

Which is why, I am going to write a post every day for the remainder of May, no matter how difficult my schedule is. This is one of my first steps towards getting back on track. A lot of this writing is probably going to be very personal. But maybe, some of that experience might help some of you in some part of your life – that’s the only reason behind putting this online. Glad to have you all as part of my recovery journey.

Until tomorrow!

‘Us’ does not exist

I have seen them in the traffic jam, in the lines of waiting crowd, when she sat back on his bike and caressed the dog peering outside the window of the car next to them.

I have seen them in front of the museum; him holding the kid in his arms, her trying to find something desperately from the cheap green faux leather bag. Perhaps, she was fishing for the blue handkerchief to rub the snot below the baby’s nostrils, or the bubble gum to keep it silent.

I have seen them in shopping malls, sitting together with big cups of coffees on small white table, flanked by matching white chairs. She had a brown leather sling bag and long leather boots. He looked chic in a pair of blue jeans and white shirt.

I have seen them in buses, in the metro, in the pool cab that I take to save money that needs to be paid towards the bills.

I have seen the love, the care that flows between a man and a woman. The care that one finds in little day-to-day things. The way the girl on the bike holds onto her boyfriend in black leather jacket in one hand and in the way she caresses the dog with the other. I have seen the attraction in the eyes which reflects the coffee table. New love is always fire.

The married couple in the front of the museum can be just about anyone, with a kid early in their marriage because he did not believe in planning and she had no choice.

Perhaps, they had fought on the way to the museum. Her bickering about the nagging kid, him tired of her tantrums. Perhaps, the boy on the bike is going to drop the girl off for good and ride his own separate direction. Maybe, the couple on the coffee date will no longer meet for the next one, because she speaks a little too much and he turns out to be a snob.

But, in the moment that I see them, in the moment my heart skips a beat at the sight of people doing ‘couple’ things, I miss you.

I miss you on my way to work, when a random stranger walks by wearing the same perfume that you wear. I miss you when I re-record songs in a broken voice and send to all the people who do not matter, but stop before sending to you, because I no longer can.

I miss you in them. I miss us in them.

Us does not exist.

You and I do.

In separate cities, in separate worlds evolving around us.

(c) 2017 Arpita Pramanick

The rains that wash away

The night was dark and grey. The city lights illuminated it, but the luminosity could not reach the depth of the darkness that lay in her heart. She was walking in the rain, the pitter-patter rain that smelled of late monsoon and a ton of irritation.

She was not angry about getting wet. Even though she hated that her feet was soiled with the water from drainage system.

Her heart throbbed faster because she was lost.

She had just gotten out of her office, a steel-grey structure that was impartial to all emotions. Her umbrella was in her hand. Like her, hundreds of other people left the building at the same time, with their deodorant soaked sweaty bodies, each destined to their own destinations.

Her hostel was two kilometres away. She crossed the billboard of a smiling television actor, with a skin so smooth that she ended up feeling her own skin for the acne. She expected the familiarity of the paan shop right after the billboard. Only, today it wasn’t there.

The road was still filled with mindless traffic, whistles blowing and curses being yelled. The dirty water came rushing at her feet, her trousers.

Her eyes widened and blurred as she saw the unfamiliar buildings around her: a grey-yellow two-story house, a small tin-roofed hut. Where were the tall apartment buildings that lined the road to her flat?

The sound of the rain increased as she crossed a dank pond filled with water hyacinth. She had never known any pond in this direction.

Her hands trembled as she looked at her phone. It read the date correctly. She had not teleported into another century, another city. She searched her contacts for a number. A face popped up on her screen. Quickly, she rubbed out the face from her screen and dialed her mother’s number. The phone rang two times before her mother picked.

“You reached home?” her mother said, amid the buzz of some curry cooking on the oven.

“Yes, I’m walking back.” Her voice was heavy with emotion. Her eyelids were drooping with the heaviness of tears.

“I’ll call you when I reach,” she said, quickly, before her mother could ask more questions. She could not do this anymore.

She had walked into a park. There was a lone cement bench, glistening with rain water, illuminated by a yellow lamp overhead. There was a darkness above it that came from the trees. She walked up to the bench and sat over there. Her umbrella fell from her hand. The bottom of her dress got wet. The tears came pounding from her chest and knocked the breath out of her.

Lost, so lost.

Some years ago, there was a bench like this, in another city, in another park. A man and a woman ate roasted peanuts from a single paper bag. Her head was on his shoulder. It was all water under the bridge now.

She clutched her stomach to stop the pain. The liquid in her belly swarmed up, up, up and came gushing from her mouth. It tasted like rotten worms and failure.

She was too tired to think. So she lied down on the bench. The rain kept falling. The vomit washed away. She waited for the heaviness on her heart to abate.

In a different corner of the park, life went on, as a snake gobbled a frog and passers-by crossed them, without knowing that one less life breathed in this universe.

(c) 2017 Arpita Pramanick

 

The grey clouds

A stupid fight on text. An endless wait to see if they respond. Why do you always have to be the one who has to budge first? Decisions. Quick. Quick. I am not going to be the first one.

Quick check of the date. Quick check of the train reservation status. Bam! The tickets are not confirmed yet.

Trying to think of a happy memory. The energy in the room seems to be going down, down, down. The clouds outside have entered the room. There is a damp, grey feeling in the heart that won’t go away.

The yoghurt tastes like itself, but doesn’t feel tasty enough. Fruits. Meditation. Yoga. Who cares if you don’t have a happy memory?

What are the possibilities that could emerge with a bright neon light, showing way in the darkness? Would something new happen? Would it?

Perhaps yes, perhaps not. Meanwhile, the minutes tick. And the grey clouds persevere.

 

Getting back on track – Part 2

In the last post, I talked about depression and how I have been recently trying to make some changes in my life to deal with it. I shared the post on Facebook. A lot of people have reached out to me after reading it. Most of them had no clue of what I have been going through and have been very supportive since. Even simple things, like a friend appreciating me for waking up early from seeing my Whatsapp last online status, felt good. I truly appreciate these positive reinforcements .

That said, I have also been actively trying to keep myself busy during the weekends.So far it has worked out great.

Last night, my colleague cum good friend told me about this nice breakfast place they had been to during a team outing, and if I would like to join her this morning. I said yes without thinking too much.

I woke up around 8 AM today, freshened up, did some hasty meditation (still trying to bring in some sort of discipline in it), ate couple of biscuits and a kiwi and got ready to go.

The place is near Hope Farm, which is only a few minutes drive from here. Pooja, my friend was waiting near A2B, Hope Farm junction and we walked together to the cafe.

The place is called The Ant’s Cafe. It’s an oldish house with a big front yard full of trees.  I don’t know so much about architecture, but I liked how the house was built. The place is a little unkempt (lots of fallen leaves), which probably adds to its aura. Besides, there are lot of ants crawling around.

I ordered French toast, peach and caramel smoothie while Pooja ordered omelette, waffle and watermelon juice.

The smoothie was a little too sweet for me, but definitely tasty! Yet, at Rs. 318 for the two things I ordered, I found the cafe a little too expensive for breakfast. But then I hardly eat out and wouldn’t know the running rates for breakfasts at different places.

I was supposed to meet another friend from college in the evening at the mall near my house, but he lives near Ant’s Cafe, so I ended up visiting him in his flat directly. Chatted for about 2 hours and then took a bus back.

I also bought some groceries while coming back, so my refrigerator is full right now with fresh food.

Going out is a experience in itself. Today, especially, I found the roads, the mall and the bus very crowded. Not sure what the occasion was. I travel very less in Bangalore, which is why I almost forgot the toils of travelling in a crowded local bus. But all in all, today was a good day.

Life is changing, and it is changing fast. For the first time, I am making an conscious effort to take care of myself, imbibe good habits. It did take an effort to zone out of the state that I found myself in, but slowly, I am recovering. I am feeling much calm about my life right now.

Will  be back with more updates. Until then, thanks for being part of my journey! A special shout out to all of you who reached out through comments/calls and are cheering me on. Blessed to have you all in my life.

❤

 

Getting back on track – Part 1

For close to 8 months now, I have been struggling with mild depression. I had been going through a rough relationship patch, work life was hectic and there was little that I had been doing besides worrying about how stale my life was.

I have tried to pull back from that state: in January, I went to Pondicherry with some friends, in February bought my parents a new washing machine, in April I was taking part in NaNoWriMo and won it. Some of these things made me happy. But only marginally.

My work is usually hectic. Until the timings change happened (1-10 PM IST), I used to rush to office at around 9.30 AM and come back around 10.30 PM. All my day seemed to be consumed in that. After I returned from work, I refused to go to sleep right away – because I wanted to think about something other than my work. So I watched something or the other on my phone. This resulted in a vicious cycle wherein I slept late and woke up tired and rushed to kitchen to make lunch and then rushed to office to take an on-site call. I was angry at myself, then I was angry at my teammates for not being on time at work. I was throwing tantrums. Basically, it was all going downhill.

When I came to Bangalore in the last half of 2015, I didn’t imagine that two years down the line I would be writing this post. Back in the day, my only worry was to find a place to stay at a reasonable price and start to pay off the student loan and do it consistently. Thankfully, I have been able to do that. I also helped out a lot with things at home (financially). These made me happy, but perhaps not enough.

The only root cause that made me so weak is my relationship, it consumed my entire being. I was heavily invested in this relationship – had planned out what the future could be. When you are far away from your loved ones, you often miss the void that distance creates between you. You fail to see the fissures and cracks that are created everyday. One day, suddenly, you wake up to see the deep chasm and wonder how did you ever get there.

This is what happened to me. The person in concern stopped communicating to me entirely. He was active on his social media and I am sure in every other aspect of his life, but I simply could not get him to talk to me.

We spoke on and off – ever enough to convince me that the cracks were getting repaired. I feigned an imaginary break up, hoping it would make him notice. It didn’t.

I think we are too broken.

Meanwhile, I was sleeping even late, waking up around 10 AM and then hurrying to get ready for office. You’d think that the timing change at office would promote some good things back at home. Instead, things were as worse as they could perhaps get.

As I write this today, I am still not out of the depressed phase. But I am perhaps at a point in time when things are starting to look better. I spoke about the issues in my life to plenty of people (even had a mild breakdown at office), spoke to a cousin who I had not interacted in years. Talking about it helped. I was trying to hold onto any new tactic that I could find from people, to mend my broken life.

Today, I am consciously trying to change some things in life:

1. No matter what happens, get to bed by 12: Haven’t  been entirely successful every day in this, but my bed time has definitely improved
2. Wake up early: around 8-8.30ish for the last few days
3. Do half an hour of yoga and meditation
4. Not skip breakfast – With the help of my cousin, I am trying out multiple changes to my breakfast (Earlier, because of waking up early, I was missing it entirely or making do with the 12 PM brunch)
5. Meet with people on weekends – Keep busy

These are simple changes, but at first they were hard to implement. Now, I am easing into it. It helps that I had always been a disciplined kid – always waking up early in the morning. In fact, that I was not waking up early was what was frustrating me the most, as if I was dealing with my depression by staying in bed)

I have been doing this only for 3 days now, but there’s already a positive feedback that I can feel. I am looking forward to waking up every morning, to experience something new. I still need to decide how to fill my morning space.

If you have been reading this far, thank you! Depression is not an easy thing to deal with. It takes strong willpower to get anywhere. I will be posting more on this space, as I deal with everyday life and return to being the person I used to be. Until then, thanks for being part of my journey!

❤

 

Depressing Monsoon

Last night I slept badly. I woke up more than once feeling cold and draped the bed-sheet around me. Outside, the rain came in short, discontinuous spell. The temperature had dropped to around 28°C.

This  morning I woke to a grey sky. The building next to mine, an abandoned half-constructed one, appeared black with wetness. Green moss covered it in places. The roads were wet. Drops of water dripped from neon-green leaves of shrubs and plants. The leaves glowed with an added vitality. But none reflected in my soul.

A shot through my window

For the last three days I have been procrastinating going to the bank. Each night I would decide to visit the bank the following morning. Each morning, I lost inspiration. I stayed up in my bed, took the laptop out and binge-watched Castle. I did not feel like going for a bath or changing into fresh clothes. At lunch and dinner I methodically brought food from the kitchen (I stay at a paying guest accommodation with provision of cooks) and ate it, detesting the bland taste of cold rice and fried fish. In the evenings, I thought of going out to buy myself some snack that would excite my taste buds. Instead, I kept to bed, chewing the puffed rice that had lost its crispness long back, as I continued to watch Castle. I felt hopeless. I felt pathetic for not getting out of the room. My eyes and head hurt for looking at the computer screen for so long.

For as long as I can remember, I have hated monsoon. I hated going out during monsoon: The dirty, wet soil covered my sandals and the lower portions of my clothing as I walked on the road. The cars and buses splashed water onto the passers-by as they crossed the shallow puddles. The rain fell incessantly.

For as long as I can remember, I have been depressed during monsoons. I deduced that the vitality of my spirits is directly proportional to the solar energy received. If the day is bright and sunny, I am up and running, finishing every chore on time. But as soon as wetness strikes, I curl up like a snail in its shell, and cling to the bed. I don’t feel like doing anything. I feel as if something sucked the life out of me, as if I am not good for anything.

Does weather have any impact on your mood? Let me know in the comments below.

Note: This post is a part of the #DearDepression event. In this event you are asked to share your experiences about depression, there are many ways to do this.

1. You can write about the experiences you have had.
2. You can write a story, poem or haiku.
3. You can create a drawing or painting.