31 May The Chronicles of Village Life – Part 2

April 28th, 2019

Writing is the only thing that keep us writers sane.

With every high point in life comes a low. And, right after every low comes a high.

After yesterday’s excitement, I feel lonely and miserable today. There is no reason to feel so. And yet, I do.

I had some comfort since I had finally got down to writing yesterday and that gave me some relief. But today, my heart ached.

In the middle of this all, my friend who’d visited me yesterday and another dear friend pinged me individually to ask, interestingly, about the same thing – how to begin writing again, after a long gap?

Now, this is a situation I often find myself in. And so, I found the timing curious. As if the world was telling me to take my own advice. And so, after telling them both that they just need to sit down and get words down on the paper, I did it too.

Without the pressure of writing something meaningful. Without the pressure of writing something that is meant to change the world, or to evoke some kind of a strong reaction from a reader.

So, I sit here in an unbearably hot room, tears streaming down my face, my favourite music playing on my laptop (which, surprisingly, fails to change my horrible mood), and I write.

I write whatever comes to mind. I write honest confessions that are only meant to make me feel better. I put my thoughts into words, following the stream of consciousness as it comes.

It feels strange – doing this. The more I think about it, the more silly I feel about the whole situation.

What’s so difficult for a grown woman to be living alone away from home? Sure, sparkling clean clothes, crisply ironed, don’t magically appear. Sure, my favourite dishes don’t present themselves out of the blue. Sure, there’s no dad hollering at me to reduce the volume of music, or asking me when will I finally sit with him to play the latest game on our Playstation. Mom isn’t running her fingers through my hair just when I need a dose of tender, love, and care the most.

Have I not done this earlier? Then why am I being such a baby about it? I have survived 3 weeks and just yesterday I was celebrating that milestone.

And then it hits me! These small milestones and small moments of despair and overcoming them – that’s what life is all about. To persevere, to overcome the challenges, to see past the darkness is what determines the strength of a person.

It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel sad. What matters is that I smile too. And as I write this, I come to the end of the tunnel and I see the light – I am smiling, already.

It prompts me to appreciate the moments of silence, the moments I am forced to spend with myself, the moments where I slow down, and even, stop. This is why I came here – to enjoy a slower pace of life, to get in touch with my inner self, to experience and savour each moment, even if it involved me sitting idle, instead of racing through it all like a maniac behind the steering wheel.

The welcome bouquet that was presented to me on my first day of school.

You don’t need to go to an ashram or a meditation center to reconnect with yourself. Just cutting off from the world is sometimes enough to give you a chance to meet yourself.

This is who you are – miserable, lonely, and questioning your own life choices, albeit with a forced smile. Until slowly your thoughts begin to change – you feel a sense of determination rise somewhere deep within. You feel the strength building up. You wipe away the tears and the clouds in your heart melt away too.

And then you come to a revelation – this too is who you are. Miserable one moment and dancing the next at your own change of mood. You’ve got past the darkness. The smile is now replaced by a renewed sense of steely determination.

You can do this! You shall do this! And, you shall win. Hell, yeah! YOU SHALL WIN.