It’s that time in my writing epoch: the keyboard box is being dusted, but just enough to still retain the essence of my last piece. Some red liquid courage is being poured, but just enough to not drown the tsunami of emotions my most visible of arteries are whirling through. Some lights are dimmed, but just enough to be still able to visualise my reactions and outbursts these walls have seen me go through over the last few days. Some light music is allowed to reverberate, but just enough so as to not overpower the riot of lyrics my mind is waiting to drain out.
Chaliye, shuru karte hain, shall we :P
To set the context for the theme of this piece, let’s circle back to yesterday morning: my landlord scolds me yet another time for keeping food for pigeons outside my place, says it litters the floor and area around. In my defence, I get the space cleaned each day, I think I pretty well understand what behaving like a responsible tenant means. She still scolds me hard, I have stopped saying anything to her, even if she says how tired of me she is, how irresponsible I am:) Once she hangs the phone, I stand by my window, ‘feeling’ happy that my balcony birds can rejoice and eat and have no landlord to fear. I made my case successfully. I start making myself a smoothie. Yes, that’s my new go-to healthy breakfast these days. While the blender is doing its thing, I start ‘feeling’ for my landlord: it must be hard for her to manage things with no one in her immediate family to support her with everyday chores, it must be hard managing her health with her age, it must be stressful taking care of all expenses and logistics of everyday life. I think I did good by not debating things with her, she might have ranted on me, forced by another stress. The smoothie is ready, I don’t have time to ‘feel’ anymore, I rush towards my cupboard, start planning my outfit and rush out to my workplace, to take care of the pile of responsibilities.
It’s dinner time, some weird hormone decides to push my brain and heart to think, and in the process, blame the universe for wiring me in a way where I ‘feel’ for every person, every situation and every thing around me, except ‘feeling’ for the originator of feelings itself, aka myself:) Why have I become this way, I ask? Why do I push people away, why do I shun emotions the moment they start rooting themselves in my life’s situations, who and what made me so detached, to an extent I try to block how I ‘feel’ about people and react to situations. Why does my physical and mental atomic framework constantly struggle between feeling too deeply at once, and immediately blocking the adrenaline rush with logics and my past experiences with life.
I then blame God, of-course, my favourite past time of all times :P
Why are some people wired to feel so deeply? Because when other people and situations break their trust, they forgot to feel anything for themselves, and in the process, build walls so strong, no bridge can ever cross.
Why are some people wired to give so much of themselves to others, so selflessly? Because in the process, they forget to expect things from others, to protect themselves from the pain of disappointment.
Why are some people wired to love so passionately? Because when fate plays it’s dirty games, they are left with no option but to start ‘thinking’ with their hearts.
So, today, when I wake up, I decide to protect myself, to love myself above others, to give myself respect and in the process, ensure others do too. I decide to not trust people, I decide to not give without the promise of reciprocation. After all, why will the world respect you when you do not respect yourself.
By afternoon, my boss asks me to complete an ad hoc assignment, just because its the deadline today and she forgot to share the assignment timely with me. I derail my priorities for the day and offer to help. ‘Not fair’, something in my mind calls out immediately. ‘You should have point blank said no’, suggests a friend. A little neurone in me wanted to say that she was right, that I should point blank say no to the task, that I need to speak myself and create an important space for my self-created priorities as well.
It’s the evening time. I am tired from the ad hoc assignment and my own work tasks, a little bit more than usual, more so mentally, than physically. More emotionally maybe. I chat with my dad for just two minutes, venting out the plethora of complex questions my mind and heart have been struggling with. He laughs for two seconds, and it was this one line advice, which calmed everything down in me: “Beta, you have to stop fighting yourself. The earlier you realise that being wired the way you are is a big blessing than an emotional curse, the more accepting you will be of yourself and your identity. Rahi baat life and logon ki, continue giving yourself, your time and your emotions without a lot of arithmetics, because the beauty of universe’s ‘dirty’ play is that while you might pull in a lot of situations and people, only a few, the very few, irrespective of societal labels, stay, and those who ultimately do, are the ones who feel for you and love you as deeply as you do, reciprocate your energies in means you never want to calculate and in the process of it all, always make you feel at peace.”
I realised, finally, the uselessness and pointlessness of fighting how oneself is wired. Suddenly, I am thanking the universe for wiring me in ways where ‘feeling’ life so minutely and deeply is an everyday blessing. For after all, feeling the love and the pain, feeling the highs and the lows, feeling the acceleration and the stagnancy, is so much better than calculating the cost-benefit analysis of handling situations with mere logics, each life tread of the day:)
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