~reflections~

With New Year’s fireworks still blazing in my mind, I sat journaling about what I wanted to work towards achieving and becoming this year, in the wee morning hours of January 1st. Fledgeling 2020 was accompanied by the natural resolve and electric energy that comes with a new year. In January, my biggest perceived challenges were getting through exams and entrances with flying colours and sanity intact. Looking back now, all I can say is that ignorance can be bliss indeed! Little did I know what was coming my way. Even as I stepped out of the exam hall for the last time—the usual relief now mingled with an odd certainty that was already breathing down my neck, but I wasn’t to know the true extent of its ramifications till much later.

If we look back on our lives, the sum of hours we spend charting our roadmaps to future destinations would far exceed the expected. Hours and hours we put into planning and preparation—yet we often remain oblivious to how they can dramatically change course. Sociologist Steve Bruce says that hidden social causes shape our behaviour and actions, which can lead to unintended outcomes. Only this time, it was a fully-formed pandemic that was waiting around the corner, taking pleasure in bursting every bubble we’d blown. Such were the grand plans I had fallen prey to as well—but when all celebration was indefinitely put on hold, I saw no choice but to bury myself into entrance prep with a heavy heart. Each additional minute I spent at my desk, I felt as though Damocles’ sword were revolving in slow circles just inches from my head—mocking me, challenging me. Our naïve hearts still hoped we’d salvage at least some of those plans—but as days bled into months, even the most hardened homebody began to yearn for the fresh air of the great outdoors.

It took me a few weeks to realize why I wasn’t being nearly as productive as I once prided myself on, why my ridiculous N.Ach (Need for Achievement) wasn’t propelling me into creative and academic work alike.—that even those of us who likened ourselves introverts missed meeting our friends; that routine, motivation and productivity go hand-in-hand even for the most spontaneous individual. Having to be at a particular place at a particular time brought some certainty into our very uncertain lives—and the fact that we had some CHOICE over the matter bestowed upon us a sense that we are free. Additionally, what usually keeps us going towards a certain goal is because we can envision the reality and aftermath of having crossed the finish line.

But with all these options being whisked from my grasp, it was as if I had all the time in the world—and while its silver lining held opportunities for new ideas and self-reflection, it was as though my mind found it easier to spiral into one of the loneliest periods of my life—a time through which I could hope to crawl out of only if I learned an important lesson on vulnerability. I began the slow and long journey of internalizing how it is okay to let others help me in traversing Life’s often rocky highway, how walls built too high can ironically hold you prisoner and how sharing and expressing with authenticity is not debilitating or an invitation to pity, it is surprisingly strengthening.

Recovering from this experience was, and still is gritty- it was as though my raw skin was exposed to the harsher elements, still healing, thinking about the patterns in which scars would form. Yet, it helped me reinforce my resilience and redraw the lines of loyalty of my friends. I believe this testing yet learning period would not have resulted in the absence of the pandemic and I know I will look back on it as a mark of my strength in the years to come.

While quarantine has provided those of us who are more privileged with a renewed chance to spend time doing those activities we were too busy for earlier, I think nearly all of us succumbed to the pressure of staring at one marvellous creation after another on social media—we might even have put up a post of our own, more to prove we were doing something, ANYTHING, than for the pleasure we derived from doing the activity itself.

As a writer, poet and creator (self-proclaimed, but one nonetheless 🙂 ), I could feel the inevitability of having to confront these very contradictory and difficult-to-think-about thoughts I had conveniently pushed away in “busier times”. I began to ponder more on what my work personally meant to me and whether my words were still a medium to understand myself and the world around me, or were slowly morphing more into a medium to please and satiate social media’s invisible critics—whether the need to prove that I was doing something to the world was catching up to me too. These were scary thoughts, I’ll admit and even as I write this, what helps me to gain some semblance of clarity is my 12-year old self, who fell so deeply in love with words that she decided to hold a pen in her hand and try for herself. She had few expectations, she simply wrote for the joy of writing.

With this little girl as my compass, I tried to return to the core of why it was that writing and creating something I could call my very own, made me happy. As I navigated these ambiguous grey waters, I decided to take advantage of the solitude I’d always craved and to loosen my grip on my annoying perfectionistic tendencies that hindered me from indulging deeply in words. I returned to books, my companions through thick and thin and began once more to immerse myself in the rich journey of stories, a journey I had forgotten to undertake in quite some time.  As the days went by, I rooted myself more in thinking of writing as a deeply personal process instead of getting to a “perfect” destination—to return to it as a way to process the constants and variables in Life.

I also began to think more about how this strange period of isolation had impacted the creators’ community as a whole. The way we processed the world had changed—there was a dearth of inspiration we might otherwise have gathered on long walks and quiet treks, yet it was as if a new, hitherto invisible world had opened up—to reflect on and weave into our art and stories. It also meant a chance to notice things we might otherwise have overlooked, to turn our attention to the beautiful horizons within. This is a testimony to the rich tapestry of creative expression, it is fluid and allows for the touch of changing circumstances to shape it through the times.

Inspired by the new phases in all our lives, I wrote a poem about blooming and growing. It goes something like this-

~ change, is never easy.
growth,
is never easy.
i know now
that each season nourishes you,
tests you even
and how you emerge on the other side,
is how you bloom.~

In such tumultuous times, we humans do what we do best – we feel. It is difficult when even those in whom we sought shelter are far away when we have trouble differentiating between solitude and loneliness. It will now take strength of will to intentionally see it as a season to revitalize. When it all gets too much, I like to retrace my steps into that corner of my mind that gathers dust at times, but still feels like home—the part that encourages me to reflect with an open heart, that encourages me to keep close and remember all that I am grateful for.

Roman poet Ovid proclaimed, “Let others praise ancient times; I am glad I was born in these.” I am trying each day to remember the essence of this thought, to be grateful for the times we live in, for without them, we wouldn’t be the us that we are now—still blooming as flowers through concrete.

We are now six months into quarantine and I’m still trying to grasp how this pandemic has shaped every story, wondering whether this virus was merely a premonition to how we would be compelled to rethink divisive lines, shift humanity to the forefront and rise to the most unprecedented challenge the world has seen in years. Each of us reading this article is immensely privileged. It would do well for us to remember, that we’re all going through an intense learning process, to respect that process, nurture all that we do have and continue learning the many myriad colours of caring for community and ourselves.

Let us root ourselves and all those around us in love and light, and hope for more good days.