I haven’t blogged in ages. I had given up on the idea of blogging entirely because I wasn’t happy with what I’d been putting out there and was was finding my older posts more and more pretentious.  Having said that, I mentioned my anonymous blog to a close friend and as an experiment, started sharing a few posts in Word, while still refraining from sharing the url to my blog. During this exercise, I went through a few posts and it gave me such a hit of nostalgia about an older self, however embarrassing that was. I was able to look at it with a little bit of self compassion. I also quite liked reliving some of the older times, which strangely enough had entirely bypassed my memory. I reread all of my older posts and wasn’t as embarrassed of the later ones compared to the very initial ones where I didn’t have an original voice, where I aped what I thought of as hot in the blogosphere, and had a verbal identity crisis. When I was done with the self judgment, oddly enough, I found myself missing parts of me that I now find hard to believe even existed within myself. There was certain wonder-eyed naïveté, which I’m no longer judging as bad, and have come to accept as an essential part of my personal growth. Some of the posts that really sent me on a trip down the memory lane and also filled me with a sense of loss for an older self were these: Random Happenings from Home, Story, Smell, Greenspiration 2, Being Romantic, and so on. I’m not proud of this writing, but I cannot deny these experiences and they were very honestly felt, with all my heart.

While reading through some of these posts, I also feel longing for some aspects of my older self, like the ability to visualize and mildly embellish reality to make it readable, to make it eternal with words. Life has happened and with age has come more jadedness. I don’t want that though. Because how much ever I judge my writing, the important part was that I was writing. I was playing with words. I was making interesting patterns. I was solidifying some thought processes. And I think I miss that. The discipline of regular writing, of remembering events even if just to write about them, and in turn immortalizing some of them. Writing is a craft that needs practice. Some of it might come from originality, but a lot of it has to do with regular, disciplined practice. With that said, I think I want to revive this blog and start using words again with some deliberation, with a semblance of an order. I considered starting a new blog entirely, but then I didn’t feel nice about disowning an older self. So I thought, why not just start the practice here again in this very space that gave me a refuge in times I felt hopelessly rudderless. And maybe this blog deserves continuity, if only to have a momentary revelation that might lead to another revival a few years later.

I turn 33 in a day, and I want to make a resolution to type a few lines everyday here, even if I have nothing to say, and that’s all I type out.I’m writing this here to keep myself honest. So welcome back self!


I cannot stop thinking about gratitude since morning. The husband and I went for a walk this morning, and we saw an extremely feeble puppy who couldn’t even walk in a straight line. All its bones protruded and the skin stuck to them making dents and folds where there was no flesh. So we got a packet of biscuits, but by then the puppy had hobbled away. Although we found it and threw some biscuits in its directions, I think it didn’t have instinct to even eat for survival because of all the neglect it has suffered from. It seemed like its brain just wasn’t registering anything. And then we didn’t want to take a chance because by then it looked like its mama had arrived and she seemed suspicious of us. So we walked back and came across a decrepit old man. We just handed him a few rupees and the pack of biscuits, and he just started crying. At that moment, I didn’t know how to react so I walked away. But I couldn’t get him out of my mind and spent the entire day in melancholy.

I just couldn’t get over the fact that he was so deeply touched by something so trivial as getting a pack of biscuits. It was clear that it had been a while since anyone even noticed him. And that’s when I started feeling guilty for how I take abundance for granted. I had ordered a big batch of alcohol for a party in the morning, and it struck me that I had barely even thought twice before paying the amount. See, it wasn’t that large considering how expensive it would have been to treat people in a pub. But even then, neither of us had even bothered to ask the alcohol shop for the exact amount when we had called to place the order. The stark difference between this casualness towards spending, and one decrepit man’s gratitude for a few rupees in change left me feeling very helpless and also naive. Because honestly, what change am I really going to bring about? None! All I am comfortable doing is these small, insignificant acts from a cushy place. So this melancholy is really a useless feeling. All it probably does is help me validate to myself that on some level I am a good person.

That’s when I thought for probably the 100th time this month that I need to practice gratitude more deliberately. I need to find some time just to deliberately think of all things in life and be grateful for them. There is so much that I just callously assume. I recently changed my job. And all I did was party about how I had finally gotten out of a horrible workplace. In retrospect, it’s nothing in the larger scheme of things. But it wouldn’t have hurt to be more grateful for finding an exit route.

I did think about gratitude a number of times this month, but it was more as an afterthought rather than a deliberate practice. I heard stories of horrible mothers-in-law and how they treated their economically independent and capable daughters-in-law, with so much entitlement. And I was grateful that I didn’t feel like them a single day in my married life. The gratitude was also followed by guilt that I had something that others didn’t just by default. I just got damn lucky.

In any case, I think we all need more gratitude in our lives, to help us let go of unpleasant things, if nothing else. So here’s my list of what I felt grateful for recently.

  • The timings of my new office. I really like morning shifts
  • The fact that the bus picks me up from less than half a km from my home
  • That I get excellent filter coffee just across the street
  • That the new flat we rented is at a wonderful location with proximity to just about everything: breakfast places, fruits & veg vendors, beauty parlors, yoga classes, parks, random small stores
  • I’m home by 5:30
  • My cook who comes in at 6 am and ensures I get to take fresh lunch to work everyday
  • Some of my favorite people are within 3 kms from the new place
  • I am no longer dependent on the husband for taking me to places for routine chores. Everything I need can be found at a walkable distance
  • The several kilos of cherries I was able to eat this season thanks to a fruit shop that sold it at an incredibly reasonable price
  • I can finally get home delivery for alcohol

There are so so many things I have missed out and are far more important than just comfort, but its only this comfort from small things that led me to think about gratitude today.

Random Happenings From Home

I am just back from a week-long visit to my hometown, to the husband’s town, to grandparent’s town and back. It’s a mixed bag of emotions to be in the home region, which includes a couple of different places in southern Maharashtra. The excitement and anticipation turns into actual fun and enjoyment and gluttony, then transitions into gathering stuff to bring back, and then ends with a sad, depressed state of mind that wont quit until a few days after being back to the daily grind.

But every visit is worth noting down for different observations and events, which range from mundane to peculiar to hilarious.

Granny’s place

We started our holiday with a visit to the grandparents. This was our first visit as a couple after 4 years of being married. It feels nice to tick this off the list. As usual, the granny dear went overboard with the food preparations, which explains why the food coma lasted a day and a half. Could have lasted even longer, but had to force ourselves out of it to go into another one with mom’s food. The grandma is quite the story teller, and had she been a keen writer, would have fit into the creme de la creme of the writers that represent magic-realism. It’s a pity that my snooty, urban self saw this too late while pretending to be uber cool and talking authoritatively about Garcia Marquez and simultaneously dissing home-grown stories for being too illogical. My loss, really. Anyway, this time, I forced my sense of logic to get lost and coaxed granny to tell us her stories. She regaled us with insanely interesting stories of sexcapades and intrigues from her childhood. Bless her. Ladies and gentlemen, please meet my grandma who asked me what birth control we used…


Home was essentially relegating self to a 25 ft radius, showering once in three days, and repeating the cycle of eating and sleeping. Mom was already sent a combined list of what the little sis and I wanted to eat the most. But the number of days we had were far fewer than the number of dishes we wanted to eat. So we simply had to eat back-to-back lunches on a couple of days. That should explain the stomach cramps and nausea I have had since returning.

Husband and the sister’s husband were around on our last day home. The evening was spent playing poker, drinking whisky, forcing the mother into drinking some old wine because she simply wouldn’t drink anything else. It was quite an adventure to smoke with the mother present in the house. But I must admit, this has become some sort of a ritual. Like an old lady, I was fast asleep at 12, but the husband and brother-in-law apparently chatted till 2.

Neutral Ground

There’s a hill station close to both the husband’s and my hometown. That’s an invariable part of our itinerary every time we go home. We spent two days here: The parents, we sisters with our husbands and my husband’s family. The rains had turned the little town/village into a green paradise. We could see clouds floating about and wind making music while passing through the wise banyan trees. All this while downing endless cups of chai.

I also made an exception to my otherwise vegetarian lifestyle and had some steaming hot mutton rassa here. We also initiated the parents into dumb charades. The moms got the game immediately, but the dads sort of ruined it for all. We also celebrated dad’s birthday here with the carrot cake that the sis and her husband baked back home with a lot of difficulty: Forgetting to preheat the oven, the electricity going off after baking for 10 minutes, shifting the cake to a cooker to prevent it from going flat, re-shifting it to the cold oven after the electricity was back, forgetting the timer and letting the cake stay in the oven for a minute longer than desirable. The end result was incredible against all odds though, so no one’s complaining.

Also, this little place has an insanely beautiful, but slightly eerie characteristic to it. Like a sense of foreboding, especially in the evenings. It’s not very densely populated, and gets rather quiet at night and there are barely any streetlights. The place where we stay is a massive bungalow with huge and disconnected rooms. We generally take a walk at night for a cigarette, because, well mothers. And everything ALWAYS looks slightly creepy, dramatically so, almost. Straight out of a Ramsay movie. Exaggerated wind sound, darkness everywhere with a cat meowing somewhere in the distance, the odd, sole street light flickering, fog everywhere, such that the person (from your own group) walking just a little in front of you might seem like an apparition. You get the drift…Add to that the history of several such trips with aunts with a crazy love for horror movies and who totally target the nieces. On one such occasion, one of the three favorite aunts was walking ahead and asked in a deep, creepy voice, “What if I turn around, and my feet haven’t turned with me?” All my logic and rationality go for a toss when the ambiance is such. And this is exactly what I remember on a similar night like that, about 7-8 years later. So with this background, we start walking into the dark, slightly away from the bungalow. We aren’t very far. No one from there can see us, but we can still see the bungalow. And then we pass by a car randomly parked in the middle of nowhere. Trust me, on a dark, rainy night, nobody with non-evil intentions would park their car there. Anyway, I HAD to look inside, and I see a cat inside the lone car. It’s sitting right behind the back glass where people usually keep pillows and random soft toys and stuff. I tell it to the sis, the husband and the bro-in-law. They dismiss me for being too paranoid and humor me by saying we wont go very far. So we go just a few steps ahead. I barely enjoy the cigarette because my heart is pounding. And then we start walking back. We pass the car again, and this time we all see the cat move its neck. Now, I almost run. The others act chilled out, because frankly, neither of us believes in spirits and ghastly cats and stuff. But still. And that’s that.

Husband’s home turf

On the last day before the vacation ends, we head back to the husband’s town, which is hardly 25 kms from the neutral destination above. Surprisingly, parents agree to stay back until early evening. So we all have lunch together, sleep, wake up, I bawl my eyes out to see the parents leave, they console me, I am consoled and we say our good byes.

Then father-in-law opens a bottle of whisky he had specially waited to open for us. Unfortunately, my stomach had already started acting up so I missed out on that part. I otherwise really enjoy drinking with him because he is a very seasoned journalist from the region and usually has tons of interesting stories to tell. He told us of the time he interviewed Indira Gandhi when he was all of 25. Man! I still tied my shoe laces the wrong way when I was that age. Anyway, the fun stories start coming out one after the other and the husband convinces him to make those into this next book project.

Then we watch news for a while. Local news back home is also way more interesting and unique. I especially enjoy the news of the deer that does the “Pandharichi VariPandharichi Vari” every year.  I instantly become a fan of the deer as well as the story, knowing fully well that it certainly didn’t go out of devotion. I tried to rationalize it by saying that perhaps it met a lovely person who fed it the first time, so it followed the person. And perhaps goes every year to look for that person. But who knows, may be I am foolishly rationalizing, where it actually IS a devotee 😉

And thus ends my week at home and around and here I am back to the daily grind. But I am not complaining because I have stories to tell.


The Period Drama

I just got out of a major period scare, and the relief is so great that it inspired me to write a blog post after a gap of more than a year.

So here’s what happened. The last week of May is fairly eventful for us. Starting with my birthday an then our marriage anniversary a week later. Since my birthday fell on week day this year, I didn’t have much planned, but I did plan a beautiful weekend getaway for us the following week.


Unfortunately, my period was delayed by three days on the day of my birthday. Now, this is no biggie for a normal person. But for a hopelessly paranoid person, coupled with a hypochondria that won’t quit, it translates to frequent trips to the loo and detailed investigation and reading for probable signs of an oncoming period. Also, it doesn’t help that you’re period is super regular, so 3 days delay is already something out of ordinary. Couple that with backtracking your sexual activity and realizing that it happened during your most fertile period. Add to that endless google research on contraception failure. It didn’t help that people said that this was the sign of turning 30, neither did the personal stories of how women saw a positive result on the pregnancy test after 3-4 negative ones. With this background, I decided to put my birthday celebration off until the weekend getaway.

Unfortunately, the day we left for Wayanad, it still hadn’t showed up, and it was delayed by 7 days by then. Even 4 pregnancy tests with negative readings weren’t enough to calm my nerves though. So in my classic style, I decided to read up about options for termination in case of the odd chance that I might be pregnant. For those uninitiated on this blog, the husband and I have made the decision to remain childfree. Anyway, somehow, I had this strong suspicion that it would be super difficult to find a gynecologist who basically did their job without judging you or giving you any unsolicited, “moral” advice. So I found the Ladies Finger’s crowd sourced list of good doctors, but I still didn’t get all the information I needed. I was also indulging in a lot of self-torture my reading up what all might be wrong with you if your period is delayed. Turns out, it can be connected to the most basic, silly even, reasons as well as to the really scary one like adrenal cancer. Being a hypochondriac, my mind started going into a downward spiral of all that could be wrong with me. May I add that all the breathtaking beauty of Wayanad was lost on me because of what I kept imagining? I even took a pregnancy test with me and took it in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep. That was the fifth negative test by the way, taken on the 8th day of my missed period. I kept getting a lot of pre-period symptoms like heavy and painful breasts, bloated tummy, and all such pleasing sensations. But I was unfortunate to come across an article which listed these same symptoms as applicable for a positive pregnancy as well. You get the drift.

Next, I have borderline hypothyroidism, but my doctor put me off meds since August as I didn’t have any symptoms. I parallel also started wondering if some spike in thyroid was causing this. Which added to my depression, because apart from being a hypochondriac, I am also extremely skeptical of taking any medicine, especially anything that requires a lifetime of dependence on it. On some level I also secretly started hoping that I would be pregnant to rule out thyroid. At one point, the husband was super confused about what my main concern was, so I broke it down for him as follows, which essentially was a bunch of “what if’s”: 1. What if I am pregnant and I need to terminate it? | 2. Termination would require taking hormonal pills, which I am extremely skeptical of taking, what would the side effects be? 3. If at all I was pregnant, would I find a doc who would prescribe the pill without being judgmental and giving free advice that I wouldn’t pay for? | 4. Would I have to take some time off work when I don’t have many leaves remaining? | 5. If not pregnant, what else could it be? What sort of imbalance could have caused it? | 6. Do I need to get my thyroid reevaluated? | 7. Would this be a recurring thing or a one off instance? | 7. Was I sky rocketing into hormonal imbalance as soon as I turned 30? | 8. What if I never get my period again?  (yes, stupid, but every time I have even the slightest of problem, I tend to imagine that it would be permanent…There was a time when I didn’t feel very sexual and I believed to a depressing degree that I had lost my libido permanently) | 9. What if the pregnancy test is repeatedly false negative? | 10. What if no doctor is willing to prescribe MTP?


I could go on endlessly, but you get the drift. I did briefly feel sorry for the husband to have to deal with the nut job that he was tied to for the rest of our lives (hopefully). But then, what I lack in rationale and sense, I more than make up for it with my self-deprecating humor and spot-on mimicry. Ask the husband. I sang an uncanny version of Dhinchak Pooja’s ,”Selfie maine leli aaj” for him. So we’re good. We returned from the anniversary weekend on Monday and I went out AGAIN to get another pregnancy test from a different brand. I decided to not take it right away and wait till the 10th day to check. By some miracle, I actually forgot to take the test. But I still didn’t have my period. Finally, I fixed an appointment with the doctor on Thursday, which would be the 12th day of the missed period. I even considered taking the day off to wallow in grief case the doctor asked me to take a blood test to rule our pregnancy all together. I am extremely scared of blood work. The plan had another test factored in just a day before the doctor’s visit was due. But somehow, as soon as I woke up, I had to pee really badly and couldn’t really wait to get the test with me inside the loo. So I just let it go and decided to take it on the morning of the doctor’s appointment, which was today. Thankfully, I got my period yesterday. A good 11 days after the due late. I have never been so excited to bleed, and can’t thank my body enough for sparing me another day of the vicious cycle of thinking, over-analyzing and irritating the shit out of all the loved ones that care to listen.

That’s that about the period drama. So, how have you been?

Why I don’t follow news

I did not follow the JNU news for a long time, because I have almost entirely stopped consuming any news. First, I feel very depressed after reading it and tend to focus only on the negatives; second, I don’t like how news is covered sensationalizing all the negative and hardly ever covering the good things happening on a smaller level (although, it’s very possible that I tend to only read the negative and completely bypass the positive).

Being a JNUite myself, I couldn’t refrain from wanting to know what’s happening for too long. And like I anticipated, I was filled with depressing thoughts and fear of what might happen. I still have friends staying in the campus. Let’s face it, we’ve got a problem if students are categorically singled out and charged with something as serious as sedition.Celebrating Afzal Guru as a hero is stupid, but picking up a student who wasn’t around just because he is not from ABVP is stupider. Add to the circus the lack of proof of whether the event actually even happened in JNU. First FTII, now JNU. It’s a massive problem when the state tries to interfere with education system and vilifies students. We should all be worried of this trend.

The bigger problem for me is the complete lack of dialogue and discussion. People are calling each other commies, congies, bhaktards and what not. It’s almost scary to try to fit any opposing opinions in such blanket categories. And the negative news mongering leads people to use words such as these for slandering without even knowing what they actually mean. Are you calling anyone holding a liberal view a communist? Or should you call the saffron brigade anti-national for wanting to send Indian citizens to Pakistan for expressing an opinion different from their ow? I am from JNU and I love it, but I am  against the somewhat rampant “parasite culture” on campus where some students stay on campus forever enjoying the benefits meant for students without really studying or adding anything to the research repository. Will I be termed as a Bhaktard then now that I am against one aspect of the “commie” campus life? See? The problem with blanket categorizing?

I saw Shahela Rashid’s speech yesterday and was filled with pride to see students from my alma mater hold such ideals and express them fearlessly. I was almost envious of such conviction and courage. I have strong opinions, but not strong enough to yank me out of a comfortable life I have built and have always been in favor of for myself. And then I read the hateful comments, so vicious as if people were trying to beat her up with words. I don’t understand how one could read such sane and logical words as anti-national. And then I regretted having read the news at all, because that hatred filled me with fear. You cannot have a dialogue if the other person is not willing to listen and learn. If for the other person, just knowing that you have a different opinion is enough to want to kill you. If the other person is so pro-violence that all they need is to use words that ignite public fury and make people want to kill each other. I mean what can you say if your frame of reference for everything is Pakistan. Any dissent and your answer is, “Go to Pakistan. You want freedom, there you won’t even be able to talk”. What if people just don’t want development and only want to compare with what is worse and be content with the status quo.

I fear that people will want to hit me if I even tell them I am from JNU. Apparently, we are a weird democracy. Or may be a democracy transitioning into something else. Because if you disagree or use your constitutional right of freedom of expression, you should get the hell out.

Yesterday, husband and I were having a very interesting chat. He is an  optimist. And I have started seeing sense in his point of view because ultimately, what’s most important to me on a personal level is peace of mind. He believes we people have more in common than not and on a macro level, the situation is generally not as bad as we think it is. I am beginning to see his point. I don’t need to know people’s views on politics and religion to get on with my day-to-day life. It’s not even a factor. In fact, I’d rather not know them at all. I get along really well with our domestic help, our security guard, our istriwallah, the neighbor. And what connects us is not our political differences but something far more simple: as people living together in society and our common interest in mundane things like how fresh the fish is today, or what was that yelling coming from the neighbor’s house. May be it’s not so bad after all. Otherwise, wouldn’t it have been impossible to communicate? And surprisingly, we communicate well enough, sometimes, even without a common language.

Social media has made it really easy for us to just yell out because there’s a platform. You are not required to dig deeper, understand points of view, cross-check, analyze. Reporting negative news is easy. Just take pictures and tell things exactly as you “see” them. It’s a vicious circle. The news we are fed is based entirely on TRPs and then Facebook makes it convenient to add to the madness without taking any serious effort on our part. Because it’s news right? How can it be wrong? That’s the thing though; reporting has come down to capturing what you see without any analysis. It is sad that the good and simple things happening in JNU were never reported. But you see, they are not interesting enough. Good doesn’t hold an appeal. But violence, anger, hatred, fires, rapes sell fast.

I feel inadequate sometimes when I have no clue about what people are discussing, thanks to not reading the news. But I am beginning to wonder if it is indeed good for me to revel in my ignorance. What are your thoughts people. Do you feel helpless and scared and disappointed on consuming news? Have you ever felt like staying away from news? Or do you engage in periodic news fasts?



I like to hear stories. I didn’t value them when my grandma used to weave a magical world just with her words and make the story telling into a proper dramatic performance. But now, I want to be told a story every night. I ask the husband to tell me a story, but he isn’t very keen. So yesterday I asked him to play a game where we each tell one line, and the other builds up another line over it to form a story.

Of course, the first 10 mins were spent in joking about it. He said, “There was a little boy in a house.” I asked, “What’s his name?” Husband then scolded me for asking a question and said, “His name is Sandeep. The end.” 😦 We started the whole exercise again and came up with this.

There was a little boy. He was 6 years old. It was summer holidays and he was bored and lonely. His house was on the other side of the river bank, while the rest of the village was on this side. He wanted to go to the village to pluck mangoes. He liked to steal mangoes from a tree in particular house. He waited at the river bank for the boatman to take him to the village. But the boatman wouldn’t agree because he was really young and didn’t have enough coins. The little boy then saw his older brother and his friends playing a few meters away. He asked the brother to take him to the other side. The older brother was really annoyed as he didn’t want his little brother to show up and embarrass him when he was pretending to be so cool with his friends. But the little brother just kept standing there, hoping for the older brother to give in.

The older brother and his friends finally decided to take the younger brother across. So they all set out in the next boat. Within 5 minutes they left the little brother at the other side. It took the little boy a few minutes to realize that although his brother had helped him cross, he was actually left at a spot a few kilometers away from the actual village. The older brother had taken his revenge.

The little boy was confused and wanted to cry when something shiny on a tree a few meters away caught his eye. He walked towards the tree all excited. But as he reached the tree, he realized that the shiny object was much higher up than he thought. So the little boy started climbing the tree. His knees and arms were getting scratched as he wasn’t used to climbing a tree, and his little feet couldn’t get a good grip. Finally, after half an hour he managed to reach where the object was. He saw that it was a smooth piece of stone that shone when the sunlight reflected on it. But he saw that a bird was actually holding the stone. The bird kept staring at the boy curiously for a few seconds before flying off. Disappointed, the boy surveyed his surroundings from the top and spotted a pile of similar stones a few yards away.

He climbed down the tree and started walking towards the shiny pile. His disappointment only increased when he realized that the pile was actually pieces of broken glass that shone due to the sun. He was about to walk towards the village disappointed, when he spotted a stone. A stone very similar to what the bird had. Only a part of it was visible above the earth but the rest of it was hidden deep under. The boy tried to scrape off the mud, but the stone didn’t move. He then picked up sharp stone and tried again, but no luck. The bird had been watching the little boy from the top. In fact, he had been hovering over the boat and had seen how sad and lonely the boy felt. The bird flew down and helped the boy dig the area around the stone with his beak. The little boy finally got the stone. He petted the bird with love and happy, trotted off to the village to pluck mangoes.

As he neared his favorite house, he started feeling a little scared. The owner of the house was a mean, old man who was known to thrash anyone caught stealing mangoes with a long thin cane. But the mangoes in his house were just the best. And they looked so inviting and plump. The boy was also hungry with all the tree climbing and walking. He picked up a stone and aimed at the ripe, golden mango nearest to him. Unfortunately, the stone hit the window and made a loud noise. The mean man, as if waiting for an opportunity to thrash someone, came out with his cane. He looked huge and was red with anger. The little boy froze in place as he saw the mean man nearing him. He was in tears as the man approached him with the cane. And then the man just passed him by and started yelling, looking for the culprit. He kept circling around the boy, calling out names and running around frustrated.

That’s when the boy realized that the shiny stone made him invisible. Happy, he walked back to the river bank and took the boat all alone. He just had to climb in. He could come back for the mango tomorrow.


Hope from 2016

Like I said earlier, I am not making any resolutions this year. But there are a couple of things I have in mind that I hope to work towards and achieve. Calling something a resolution gives it an inflexible quality in my head, and it’s this sort of inflexibility that I am hoping to eliminate from my life this year.

So, here are a few things I want to achieve, and the only reason to pen them down is to have a list I can go back to in case I forget.

  1. Get into the scientific study of nutrition and health. I love all things diet and nutrition: reading about it, cooking holistically, trying different grains and millets, veggies, oils, salts, what have you…, understanding various eating philosophies, understanding what food does and doesn’t do to our bodies. I read about everything related to eating well and living a wellness-inspired lifestyle, that I might as well look for some distance courses to boost up my mere interest.
  2. Eliminate a constant feeling of insecurity and anxiety. I really hope to grow on a personal level into a balanced and well rounded person. A part of that would include living in the moment and not stressing about what the future outcome of a current undesirable situation might be. I have plenty of inspiration at hand to look up to. Dad, sis and husband are classic examples. Mum is also a deeply content person who doesn’t get affected by things like status anxiety.
  3. Focus more on fitness. I already do regular exercise,  but I want to strive towards having a more active lifestyle rather than just doing bursts of intense physical activity 4-5 times a week.
  4. Read more and diversity reading topics. I mostly read fiction and that too of a specific kind. This year I want to diversify that and pick up books without prejudice and judgment.
  5. Find ways to connect with people. I pretty much constantly oscillate between feelings of superiority and inferiority complexes, which compromises my ability to be friends with people who are not like me. Which brings me to the next point.
  6. Be accepting of people who are not exactly like me. I realized that as much as I like to think I am not judgmental, I am bitterly so in case of people who are not what I deem rational and progressive. While I think that rationality and progressiveness is what all societies should consistently drive towards, it’s really wrong to discard people who don’t fit the bill. Because let’s face it, I am a result of my social setup and conditioning which by a stroke of unbelievable good luck was the best one could get. So, while I can’t force myself to like people or agree with their views, I can definitely make an attempt to be civil and calm when I deal with them. Which brings me to the next point again.
  7. Listen more, speak less. Need I say anymore?
  8. Work towards de-addicting from all kinds of social media and compulsive dependence on the internet. Again, this brings to my next point.
  9. Cultivate more patience. I have never been an example of calm demeanor and patience. But the internet and easy availability of just about anything has made me more impatient. I noticed that the moment I find myself in the middle of a conversation that is either boring or related to subjects I don’t care about, I start scrolling the net for interesting stuff to read. This easy access and flipping from one activity to another definitely adds up in making your patience takes a back seat.
  10. Work on relationships. I used to think that I don’t like people and prefer to be on my own all the time. This is partly true. But it’s not that I don’t like people in general, just that I like very specific kind of people. I am consciously going to work on fostering relations I care about and make an attempt to reach out to people, even if that doesn’t come naturally to me. It doesn’t even have to be new people. Just people I love dearly but take for granted…like my grandparents.
  11. Not overthink stuff. I have decided to give less fucks about stuff that doesn’t really matter. I have a tendency to over analyze every little detail about stuff and then end up feeling guilty about it for hours. I am going to develop a rational attitude towards not dwelling on things in the past that have already happened and can’t be changed, but will focus more on not repeating the same mistakes or errors in judgment again.
  12. Accept reality and things that are beyond my control. I have always had problems accepting the status quo and stressing myself crazy asking why and how. But since it’s easier to accept the situation to deal with it better, I am going to develop a coping mechanism to deal with unpleasant truths and realities that I can do very little to change, or for which I have no inclination to spend enough time to bring about any change.

There. I have made a list of what I think is important, no essential, to be a better version of myself. Here’s hoping that I find the positivity to inculcate this and make micro-level changes in myself.

Dear readers, is there anything you hope to change in yourself or in your life this year? What are you looking forward to?