She's Everything

It has been a good minute since I could center myself enough to sit and write. At one point I had what seemed like the worst week of my life (it wasn't) and took a walk by the bay just to breathe. Telling myself to breathe, it’s as much mine as it is anyone’s right to breathe. And ran right into a shoot – yes, a video shoot set. A local film company wanted to get a sunset shot of a crowd coming together singing, I was handed lyrics on a sheet and told to join and pretend there is no camera (did NOT do a good job at that). It was a good high, a bunch of 100-200 strangers just coming together to sing in chorus.

I am strong.

I am different.

Unique in every way.

I won’t lie, this cheesy Hallmark movie-ish experience did make me feel a bit better – better than eating junk food and drinking expensive coffees did.

Just like that, the weeks changed, problems that seemed unsurmountable were put behind. Most of my friends, in my age group, are on the same boat, just in different seas – if that makes sense. It seems all my friends in Bangalore are going to Cubbon Park to read books on the weekend, all my friends in Mumbai are going to Marine Drive to soak the Bombay charm. And where do I go? Unfortunately, my tribe here for these few months has flown back to India, having successfully completed their research internship (not because I drove them away, that only happened to my music teachers). My mother and sister are very secure in spending time by themselves; they can do it for hours, weeks, decades even. I tried my best to explore a few places myself and learnt that I have an overpowering need to comment and that requires other people to share that experience with me.

Of course, I am grateful for having my own home, my own little safe space to crash into after long workdays. I enjoy the solace when I need it, but more often than not I don’t. It made me wonder how our grandparents do it, living by themselves, stuck within a room due to their poor health. Just watching the day and world go by outside their doors and windows; they were probably active, productive, and centre of the house at one point in time – and now they are just a presence. It scares me, how will I survive that? What will I have achieved by then? “You are too young, just make some dough for now” says my father’s friend whose lovely family I visited. His daughters are still in school and watching them bicker made me miss my own life of shelter; of having parents who decided everything for me, where I just had to wake up and show up. It’s strange to be looking forward and backward at the same time – gives you a headache, if you think too much.

When we were young, my sister and I used to plan our Barbie doll purchases. Our parents pampered us with opportunities, love and support – but we were not handed toys at whim. It cost about Rs. 500 in those days for one doll, not a small sum, and had to be strategically planned across both our birthdays so that we made the most of new releases. Sitting down under the tamarind tree in our grandmother’s farm and making this game-plan before the school year started was one of the few times my sister and I got along. So, when the Barbie movie released, I was excited. It carried a lot of nostalgia with it. It was from Greta Gerwig, so I knew it would be empowering. No spoilers, but that was all it was unfortunately.

Maybe I expect too much? I was recently told by a colleague that she has also become like me, very “word that rhymes with banal” about the detailing and formatting of her emails. It took me a second to process what sounded like a compliment; well, I was not known as the fun senior head girl or fun coordinator anyway. I remember doing a survey in one MBA class and coming up with “benevolent autocrat” as my leadership style. I don’t really think it’s a good trait, but hey, it gets stuff done. Benevolent autocrat describes exactly a math teacher I had in school, he was so good he didn’t fake teach during school inspections. He was strict, terrifying – and yet he would explain sums as many times as it took every kid in the class to get it. I wonder how he is doing; some silly rule of schoolteachers not being allowed to take private tuitions meant he left his job – a job he was amazing at, only because he wanted to earn some income over what must have been measly schoolteacher pay.

Karma doesn’t seem too visible sometimes, does it? Once in 12th grade, our school needed a new Business Studies teacher, and a young lady came to take a mock class. She was decent enough; she was trying her best even though her English wasn’t polished. When the usual teacher came in to get our feedback, the whole class was okay – except for this group of girls who mocked her teaching and her accent, and said “she never ever could do this, you are putting our education at risk”. Maybe they didn’t know she had already rented a place near our school to move her husband and child, she probably was the main earner trying desperately to get a stable job. Somehow, I never can wrap my head around disrespecting a teacher, however bad they may be (of course I don’t mean the criminal ones). She didn’t get the job; I sometimes wonder what became of her too. And I definitely wonder how far in life those girls would get.

Anyway, with claustrophobia and Karma as the topics of discussion today, I have an upcoming 18-hour flight to NYC. I am excited, my friends and colleagues are even more excited. I will probably, no definitely, be as touristy as one can get – living and breathing every movie and TV show I have loved. My parents think I see the world with rose-tinted glasses anyway, maybe I’ll be proven right for once. I hope.