Hello, 2018

I promise to do this every year, but like all resolutions, sometimes, we forget to abide. Afterall, unless you're Pollyanna, there are some things about the year that has just passed which you'd rather forget than try to put a positive spin on.

Then call me Pollyanna, because 2017 was undoubtedly good to me. On ther personal front, the highs included celebrating my beautiful mum's 60th birthday in Italy, successfully organising my beloved's secret birthday party and, above all, a permanent roof over my family's head, thanks to my sister. Yes, 2017 was great personally.

Professionally, too, 2017 was generous to me. I lost my job.

Strange how things seem the exact opposite in hindsight than they do in the present, isn't it? I freaked out when I heard my company was shutting down, and at the worst time of year when finding a new job is made even more difficult in an already tricky hiring scene. Only silver lining was that I wasn't made redundant alone. The whole company shutting down meant I could face potential new employers and truthfully mention that I needed a job soon because my company had decided to cease operations due to losses in business.

What they say about the stars aligning must be true, because I was able to land a job within two weeks. Not just that, it's a better role, with more responsibility (and consequently more challenges, but what's life without a good challenge?) and lots of scope for growth. And it also meant I had a whole month which the new company agreed to grant before I started. This meant more travel, and more free time spent at home than I ever have in the past five years.

Now, I haven't begun the new job so I can't harp on it just yet, but if 2018 turns out to be anything like 2017, I'll only have good things to say about it.

So thank you, 2017, and 2018, I can't wait to meet you.

The Gift

It’s so wonderful to be able to give someone a meaningful gift. Not necessarily expensive, but something that means a lot to the receiver. Something that they have wanted for the longest time, but for whatever reason, haven’t been able to get it for themselves.

About a year ago, I had the honour of being able to give something like that to a friend. He was just lazy and procrastinated a lot, and therefore was unable to get it for himself. It wasn’t expensive. Essentially, it was an experience that I hoped would get him to take up an activity that is very close to my heart. He’d been wanting to do it for a long time, but, once a procrastinator, always a procrastinator.

Long story short, he tried out the activity and loved it. I was really glad. He even continued with it and I felt very proud of myself for making a believer of him. However, a while later, something strange happened. As he got more involved, and became even more experimental with the activity, I began to feel… jealous. Yes, that ugly monster reared its head. And yes, there’s absolutely nothing logical about the way I feel. But there it was.

Once again, I have nothing conclusive to say to end this post. I feel bad that I feel this way. Maybe it’s because this activity is so close to my heart and sharing it, despite taking nothing away from me, makes me unnecessarily jealous. Maybe it’s the history I share with this friend. Either way, I now live with this constant feeling of pride and jealousy, vacillating between the two every time I hear of him having achieved a new feat. Maybe I’m petty. Maybe I’m just human.

The Inability to Stay in Touch

My Facebook feed is flooded with pictures. People getting engaged, people getting married, people having babies. In all of these photos, the persons in question aren’t alone. They are surrounded by loved ones. Family, of course, but also friends.

Back in school, we all had our cliques, some bigger than others. One of the biggest cliques comprised about 15 girls. Many of them were the most popular kids. One would imagine that since there were so many of them, with time, they would fall apart. Boy, was I mistaken.

Over the past 11 years since we’ve been out of school, many of these girls have celebrated milestone occasions such as the ones described above. Amazingly, most, if not all, of the other girls were present for those occasions. Sometimes, it was something much smaller – like a birthday, for instance – that brought these girls together.

And it’s not just them. They stood out because they were so many and yet they managed to come together for each other after all these years (many of them live outside India but amazingly, manage to show up at these events). But there are several other people I have watched over the years, who have managed to hold on to their old friendships. Flying across oceans seemed to be no hindrance to be present at a close friend’s wedding.

And yet, I haven’t been able to do any of these things. I like to think of myself as someone who cares about her friends. A lot. Sometimes more than is good for myself. But a while ago, I realized this was only true in the present. Two years ago, my best friend from school got married. And I didn’t show up for her wedding. Granted, it was a bad time as far as my career was concerned and, had that not been the case I probably would have flown down, but it seems a meagre excuse for a person with whom I once shared such a deep bond.

It’s not just about not showing up. I have been unable to remain in touch with more than two or three people from school. Even those are vague Facebook connections, with not a single phone conversation or even a Skype session shared in the years that I have been overseas. In the early years since leaving school, we made an effort to meet once in a while, but that didn’t last long.

It was the same with other groups. My SDIPA gang, for instance. Yes, we chat over WhatsApp once in a while, but I have no real idea about what’s going on in the lives of all my dance buddies – that is, no real idea besides the “How are you? I’m fine, thanks. And you?”

University was much the same. I’ve stayed well connected with exactly one person from Uni. Yes, one. That was probably more because I needed constant support and someone to bitch to until not too long ago, when I was having a difficult time in life. The rest have faded into the background of sketchy Facebook messages or once in a blue moon WhatsApp messages.

So it really got to me. Am I a terrible person for being unable to stay in touch with anybody for long? That is not to say I don’t devote myself completely to the friendships I have in the present. I do, but once the dynamics of those connections change, usually because of distance, I lose touch. Every single time.

I wonder if some of us are just meant to be like that – wholly present in the here and now, but with nary a trace remaining once out of sight. I don’t know. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person, an uninvolved person, or just… another person.

This is quite a pointless rant. But as I just learnt yesterday, stories don’t necessarily have to have a beginning, middle and end. They can just continue on for as long as we live, because stories are, literally, a slice of life and we keep living them, adding layer upon layer. Every single day.

When Life Brought 'A' My Way

I think Life has a wicked sense of humour. Every single time someone challenges it, she stands tall, shoulders squared, and says, "Are you sure you want to do this?" Now, the smart ones, they back down. But then there are some others, who are stubborn as rocks and say, "Nope, sorry, not happening." No points for guessing which category I belong to.

So then, Life, being the butt-kicking vixen that she is, sets out to make sure you pay for your ill-planned words. Let's call this particular concept we are about the speak of, 'A'. Now, I had imagined I would never succumb to A. Mind you, A can happen to anyone, and sometimes, if you're lucky (or unlucky) enough, more than once. So after the last round of A that ended in 2015, I had decided - no more A for me. Of course, Life heard me and challenged me; she warned me to take my words back, but I did not.

Six months passed. I was having a grand time, laughing, singing, dancing, hanging out with friends and generally being a merry nuisance. Of A, there wasn't a sign. There were shadows since end of last year, but so faint, I managed to convince myself I had been mistaken. Then, from early 2016, the signs became more persistent. I was still intent on ignoring them, and managed to pull through for a while until, in February, it became impossible to ignore these signs. It seemed like A had struck once again.

Now, I was furious - with myself, for coming across A again, and with Life, for throwing it in my path. But then again, I had challenged her. So the battle began. We fought hard, Life and I. There were almost times when I thought I was winning, that she was backing away, taking A with her. This left me a with a strange sense of relief and sadness, both inextricably intertwined. And then, suddenly, without warning, she would launch another attack. This happened a few times, until finally, one clear victor emerged.

Yes, Life had won. I had to succumb. And I'm deliriously happy that I did. But in the back of my mind, I can't wait for A to cause trouble again, and then I will have only Life to blame. All over again.

Because Life Comes Full Circle

They say life always comes full circle. Actually, I’m not even sure whether the instance that reminded me of this idiom is relevant to the occasion, but it seems apt.

I moved to Singapore in 2012, not knowing a soul here back then. During my early days here, Couchsurfing proved to be a blessing. I even spoke of an “outgoing CSer, who’s plenty helpful and really fun to be around (except for when he randomly gives you a brand new name or makes up stuff as he goes, so much so that you no longer know what’s true and what isn’t)”, little knowing how much he would come to mean to me.

Cut to 2016. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but when life (and your entire personality) has undergone a sea change during that time, 3.5 years can spell an eternity. And that’s exactly how it feels. Well, 2016 arrived with lots of positivity (including a new job!) but also, very importantly, the wedding of a very close friend. Who is this close friend, you might ask? No other than the crazy dude who liked to give me equally crazy names! After the initial few months of knowing him, he entirely dropped off the radar, getting in touch only intermittently and replying to messages after days and sometimes even weeks. I made some great friends thanks to him, and used to meet them fairly frequently, but Mr Groom was forever proving to be elusive.

So imagine my surprise when, in 2015, when I messaged to wish him on his birthday, he suddenly breaks the Big News. “Rashpal (yes, that is his nickname for me, and you’re forbidden to laugh!), I’m getting married in Feb next year. You have to dance at my wedding!” In my head I was thinking, “You idiot, you disappear on me for ages and then resurface only to tell me you’re getting married?” But out loud I said the only thing I could: “Of course I will!” And so I did.

So yeah, time has flown in the blink of an eye, and much has changed since I first came to Singapore. But I made some solid friends, one of them who has helped me with everything, from figuring out iftar timings to getting my mum a long-term visit pass. And for that, I’ll always be glad I met Darrumple (you’re not even allowed to laugh at my name for him). Indeed, life has come full circle.

A Dark Soul

A Dark Soul

"You have a dark soul," he said.
"It wasn't always so," she replied.
"What happened, then?" he asked.
"It was after my loved one died."

"I'm sorry to hear that."
"I am, too. It was futile."
"Futile in what sense?"
"He died before his time."

"You must miss him, then."
"Every minute of every day."
"He was lucky to have you."
"Indeed. If only you knew."

The Little Things

They say it's a sad day when one no longer finds surprise or pleasure in the little things in life. A friend who I'm no longer in touch with told me that. Today I found such a thing. It's probably incorrect to say I found it. I finally noticed it today.

I had forgotten what it was like to be a little girl at the mosque, at a time when I hadn't yet learned to pray. My emotions ranged from curiosity to impatience to a fake sense of self-importance. The last of these would surface when I pretended to know how to pray. But in reality, I would only be following the adults and copying their actions as they prayed. Today, while I was sitting in the mosque, not praying, I watched the little kids around me. And I noticed all of my emotions replicated in them. Here, one was looking at the adults who were praying nearby, and innocently trying to replicate their actions. There, a couple were pretending to know exactly what they were doing, even lip syncing the words of the prayers, and all but puffing their chests out with pride as they did so. In another area, some kids, who were sitting with their mothers while they prayed, looked at the maters as they continued their prayers, their impatience writ clearly on their faces as if to say, "Are you done yet?

It's hard to explain why such nostalgia hit home, but it did. Like a ton of bricks. Life moves at a pace almost impossible to keep track of, but reminders like these serve to cause one to halt, take a step back, and simply experience the emotion it brings. Yes, I still find wonder in little things in life. Guess I'm just blessed like that.