The Butterfly Will Fly Free

“I can’t concentrate on my studies anymore”, 16 year old Ananya poured out in her journal. “I am worried I was given a jar full of concentration and it has gotten over”.

Scoring high in school was one of the biggest requirements for a happy life for me back then. I remember being confused, losing self confidence – ‘The most Important 10^th Grade’ was passing by me and I wasn’t able to concentrate.

I remember the day before the final social studies exam – unable to read more than 2 words from my book, sitting in the balcony and watching the sky, feeling guilty of not studying, but unable to put my mind to it. “What has happened to me?”, I wondered.

I didn’t have to be so worried, I scored fine. All those years of studying had inculcated some pretty strong processes in me and it worked.

A few months after that, I remember running to the washroom after every 40min class in school, because my period was overflowing and I just couldn’t sit. Something was definitely wrong.

After a few hospital visits and tests, we realized my butterfly gland – the thyroid, wasn’t functioning, the Thyroxine levels were low beyond the charts. And that started my journey with the Thyroxine pills – everyday since I was 16. I took a particularly high dosage.

*

An imbalance in my bloodstream, so inbuilt into my personality. I wasn’t sure if the low moods, the lethargy, the lack of concentration, the weight gain were me, or the thyroid. By then I had incorporated the word “lazy” into my psyche. The levels kept fluctuating – the moods kept changing.

The pills became a part of my life – they traveled everywhere with me, first thing in the morning before the mind is fully active, the pills would have already entered me. Over the years it went through stages, first of fighting – we will do things and get the thyroid fixed. Crazy workouts and diets.

When I lost hopes in that, it changed to helplessness and self pity.

Next some kind of acceptance, this is me, this isn’t going to change.

A couple of years back, I fell into a bad mental health space, life felt unbearably difficult – related or unrelated to the thyroid – cannot be sure.

Exactly a year back – when things became completely unbearable, life went out of control – I decided to stop, and fix myself. A series of events including the move to Mysore. I brought discipline into my life – I cooked all my food, meditated regularly, worked out regularly, kept my space orderly. Worked extremely hard to maintain it.

It worked, mind felt calmer, under control.

Until, one fine day, exhaustion, lethargy, lack of focus hit. And I knew, this can’t be me. Checked my thyroid levels, and it had gotten better! My dosage had to be reduced, the gland had started working – I was over-medicating myself.

In another 3 months, the same symptoms returned, with more intensity. When my usual morning workout hit me with so much exhaustion it was impossible for me to do anything but sleep in the day, i knew it was time to do a blood test again. The gland working further – I could reduce my dosage further.

The transition is hard. Self doubt, exhaustion, lack of concentration, blurry mind. Like someone had drugged me the whole day.

“Till the hormone levels get back to normal, is there something I can do to function properly?”, I asked my doctor. “No, Ananya, sorry you will have to wait it out”, he said. I am not a big fan of endocrinologists.

*

It’s incredible how much of a hold this tiny little butterfly gland has on life. It governs thoughts, emotions. It makes me think – if thoughts and emotions are just results of these hormones flowing through our blood streams. Who are we really? If manipulating this is manipulating that, what are our thoughts made of?

Having Fun?

“Have Fun, Ananya!”, said my colleague Arvindh when I was leaving the office after a particularly hectic Monday. I was tired, it was an intense day of many conversations, running around the workshop, and a lot lot of work. ” What fun tonight?”, I instantly replied – leading to a quick banter about alcohol.

“But why not fun?” I wondered as I cycled out of the workshop back home. Why was I so quick to push away the fun for the night? This was so against everything I have been working towards ever since I moved to Mysore. There’s one rule to life I have been adamant about following – to be open to every moment, not look at any situation, any place, any person, any object. It’s been a beautiful journey, and unlike my expectations, instead of opening up to the world and people more, I began to open up to myself further – enjoying my own company better than I did anyone else’s – for the first time in my life.

So fun?

Just as I was cycling back on this overcast Monday evening against the setting sun, it began to drizzle slightly. Keen to bring in the fun I had dissed a few moments back, I stopped by at the tea shop near office. After bragging a little bit about the magnificent glories of cycling – to a few other colleagues I found at the tea shop, I set back home in the drizzling rain.

That’s it, it didn’t need anything else – just the intention of fun manifested itself in pure joy. Completely focused on a safe ride in the rain, my mind was there on the road – no past, no future, just my cycle, me and the rain splashing on my face. The cycle tires cut through the wet roads. The views from the rolling hills of Mysore are as beautiful as they could be. The ride I have been taking every day not like yesterday, not like tomorrow. Today’s joy-filled ride. The Ananya of the past gave a nod – creating fun out of thin air, in the most everyday activities.

So yes Arvindh ! A lot of fun, thanks! May all of you reading this have a lot of fun too!

Goodbye Bangalore – Hello Mysore : Part 2

This is part of a series. Here is the Part 1

My grandmother (Achamma), was one was the most organised person I have known. Although I have personally not seen it, the legends of Achamma’s insistence to an organised space around her is well known. By the time I began interacting with her, she was my sweet Achamma who said nothing but nice things to me. But every time I lived with her, I marvelled at the discipline, the dedication and the insistence to have the housekept a particular way. The bed was folded a particular way every single day. The flowers in the Pooja space were kept a specific way. a specific number and type of flower for each god. The plate mats were cleaned and folded every night and kept in the same position every single day. There was a system for every single activity in the house- for drinking water, for garbage, for cleaning. She followed these systems every day I know her. in- including the last day of her life. It was incredible- but as a child, watching her do this – I wondered if she was complicating things a little too much. I mean, why should drinking water pass through 3 different utensils before it ends up in my glass?

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Through my whole life I have always been called very similar to Achamma. My body shape, my behaviour, my likes- so on and so forth. For almost everything – except cleaning and organising. This, I was the other end of the spectrum.
All my things were everywhere, and this got even more pronounced when I began living by myself. When I did clean and organise – I did it well. But maintaining it was an impossibility. And I hated the process. Dishes were torture, moping and a weeping so difficult. Laundry was done purely out of necessity. I loved cooking, but cooking
meant dishes – so nope. I survived on the mercy of the maid to the cook.

I had two weeks with me after my job confirmation to before I needed to get to Mysore. Those two weeks were completely dedicated to purging and packing. 5 years of accumulated things. So like Marie Kondo would say- some items sparked joy and some that didn’t. I had moved 3 homes in Bangalore – each time subconsciously gathering everything – necessary and unnecessary stuff. So this time, I decided to purge a majority of it. Everyday – I would walk around the house with a large garbage bag- mercilessly filling it up. About 3 bags got filled on an average everyday. After a few days of this, I began getting into the flow- I started finding it meditative. I decided to take it one step forward – everything entering the new house in Mysore should feel new. I entered a cleaning spree- every utensil, every glass bottle, every book dusted – everything deep cleaned. I was surprised – I enjoyed it. “I don’t know why I didn’t do It it all this while”, I told my friend who was visiting.

But I also had my doubts. Now I had all the time to do this. Once I started working and my time gets cut down, would I go back? But the there, slow-charming Mysore helped. I realised it was about insisting- insisting on at the peace of mind that came with an organised space. About going back to it everyday – giving it a chance to give me joy.
Now, while I am nowhereclose to achamma’s organisation levels, I spend all Saturdays – organising and cleaning. In the beginning it was a complete mess by Friday- that took ages to clean on Saturday. But slowly, systems began forming- Saturdays moved from basic cleaning to deep cleaning. I saw achamma in a dream- where I proudly invited her to my house here and gave hee an update on my life. I showed her the plants, the kitchen systems. She seemed happy.

Homesick?

The first day of college- excited to experience the wonderful new prospect of college life. I had just moved to India from Kuwait which to me being an Indian was still practically a new country. Architecture, a course I was super excited about, and hostel life, one that I was looking forward to. Everything was great. The HoD gave us our introduction speech, and amidst the many topics she spoke, also mentioned a few words about homesickness. I just couldn’t get it. It was time for independence, why would someone be homesick, I wondered.

Cut to a few hours later, there I was sitting on the hostel bathroom floor, weeping my eyes out. I just couldn’t understand what happened! I envied the day scholars, wished to be back home, uneducated, unemployed. I just couldn’t understand where these thoughts were coming from! It took about 6 months to get back to being my normal self.

***

Being the overthinker that I am, anticipation of emotions has never been an issue. Especially the ones I feel are negative, will warn me days before it actually comes, giving me ample time to freak out, get stressed, a couple of panic attacks, before the event actually occurs, (which by this time, has completely gone off focus)

But one that attacks me out of nowhere- absolutely no prewarning is home sickness.

After that first 6 months of adult life, similar feelings returned at different phases of my life. When I changed homes, friends left, etc. etc. Externally I would be great, internally I would be an erupting lava.

**

Moving to a new city, I realised is harder as you grow older. My first set of friends at 18 in college came like a breeze. Moving to Bangalore, was a little bit of struggle in the beginning, but things slowly came together, the city felt like home. Mysore, though I love it way more than I did Bangalore, hasn’t become home yet – albeit, it’s only been about 2.5 months I have been here.

But wherever it was, I have never come back everyday to an empty home before. This is a first.

And that, my friends, is a completely different ball game.

I have been enjoying it, I can’t really say empty home, because I have Ginger to greet me everyday. I set up my space, I have finally started enjoying my own company. The end of a 10 year old struggle.

**

This week was a weird one – a family event at the end of the week. A tiring week -let’s just say I’m not the greatest fan of family events.

It’s also Vishu! A festival specifically meant for a house filled with people. Who do I show the Kani this year?

And to top it all off, my house owner spoke to me about the sad howling Ginger does everyday when I’m gone. The creepy dog parent that I am, eavesdropped on Ginger through my Alexa. And there I heard it, the soul crushing, heart breaking, sorrowful howl.

Oh no? Am I making this child of mine feel lonely too?

**

And so I spent a few evenings sad, wondering when I would be able to make true friends, when I could break the walls I built all around myself.

**

Maybe it’s time to celebrate life instead of just enjoying it. Maybe it’s time to just experience homesickness, the way it is. Nothing more, nothing less, just a longing for home.

Help! My home is turning into a Forest!

The whole of last month, I have been contemplating and planning- what should be the first piece of furniture I should buy for my new home in Mysore? The list was long- a dining table, bookshelf, sofa, bar unit, bean bag, a cot for my guest bedroom, so on and so forth. So it was not possible to buy all of them at one go. Also, it is way more fun doing this in parts – watch the house grow organically.

So after marinating this in my head for days and days, I spontaneously decided one evening to fix on the book shelf as my first furniture piece. After consulting the Sketchup model I have made of my house for size location, I ordered one.

Once the bookshelf arrived – suddenly the shoe rack that I had absolutely no issues with, started to look ugly. ” Keep it there for now, pick up a nice shoe rack next month”, said my best friend Sulu, during our weekly video calls.

But I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t look at it for I more second, let alone a month? So after a few minutes of trying to conceal the shoerack within the corners of my house,I decided to get rid of it. ‘It served you for so many years, and all it took for you is a new bookshelf to throw it out,” Sulu said. But now, with the furniture in the room vanishing, my house looked oddly empty.

“Let’s buy a plant for the indoors”, I thought. I already had a few in the corridor outside, and they seem to be thriving, so why not try some indoors?

So at noon, under the scorching hot sun, I set out to the plant nursery. Bhudevi farms- near Kukkrahalli lake. Apparently it is over 70 years old, and it shows! An ocean of never ending green plants.

After an hour of confused selection, I ended up saying yes to all the plants the gardener showed me. I bought all of them home. One plant led to another, and then I was, in an auto filled with plants popping out from all sides. Big and beautiful, they have instantly transformed my home.

I am now obsessed- a new Pinterest board has been made – a house filled with plants. Hopefully these new friends are happy here with us!

Goodbye Bangalore – Hello Mysore : Part 1

Finding a job isn’t easy – ask me about it, Making that portfolio, can be one of the most heart warming experiences, or one that fills you up with self doubt. After about 1.5 months of contemplation, meditation and a LOT of cleaning (I’ll get to that later), I can now successfully say I have survived the job hunt phase and crossed over to the other side.

It was an interesting experience – considering the last time I did this was 5 years back.Back then, I was a college student, living out of hostels and friend’s homes. I owned 1 suitcase that carried all my things. One of my major concerns of my first night in Bangalore was about how empty my room looked, with just not enough items to make it feel like a home.

I literally had a truck full of stuff when I left Bangalore.

The 5 years in Bangalore feels like the longest 5 years of my life, also the shortest. I already had friends when I moved to Bangalore, but it was here that I found myself. It was a whirlwind – there were times I absolutely hated the city (you can find a few blogs on that), there were times I was in love with everything about the city. Even as the people who made the city in my head started moving away, Bangalore still gave me comfort – through the dogs that live there, the landscapes that I cycled through. My work gave me access to all kinds of people living in Bangalore and reasons to visit all corners of the city. Even the one thing that the world whines about in Bangalore – the roads and the traffic became my comfort place. Whether it be an auto flying on the ring-road at midnight, or the cab im stuck in the morning – became the spaces I used to think, observe the city and just zone out from reality.

Over the years, I started proudly introducing myself as a Bangalorean in every conversation. Corner house, Cubbon Park, Pecos, Bobs, Humming Tree – any conversation about Bangalore anywhere in India and the world. I cribbed about the traffic, I bragged about the weather, I whined about how the airport is in another city. I stayed long enough in to to talk to new comers about “those days”.

My job hunt this time, has led me to a new city – not very far from Bangalore, but far enough. After 5 years of living and experiencing Bangalore, I packed up and moved to Mysore – new city, new job, starting from scratch again.

The reality that I am not going to be in Bangalore for too long hit me when I went for a day’s trip to Mysore to confirm my next home. It was a strange feeling sitting on the bus to Mysore. I have traveled to Mysore multiple times – as close as the previous week for my job interview. But all those times, it was clear – this was home, I went to Mysore as a Bangalorean. But that day, I wasn’t sure. I was going to take a look at my new home – a new home that was not in Bangalore? It felt strange.

I spent the day looking at Mysore, absorbing its vibe, trying to look at it as an inhabitant, not a tourist. And while I was super excited about this new journey I was starting out on – it didn’t feel great, I felt like I was cheating on Bangalore – it was a huge overwhelming feeling of betrayal. A few hours later, after confirming on a cute little house that would be my next home, and a little time exploring Mysore. I spent the time I was coming back to Bangalore, visualizing and mentally setting up the new house. I got lost in my planning – Where would the plants go? Where would the cot go? What else would I need?

A couple of hours later, as the bus neared Bangalore, I could see the buildings and apartments peeping from across the highway – Bangalore saying hello to me. I had thought in-order to accept Mysore, I needed to reject Bangalore. But looking at that vast expanse of the city, I realized there was never going to be a time Bangalore wasn’t going to be home. I am came back with an expanded heart – one that can take Bangalore and Mysore together. There was never going to be a goodbye to Bangalore – it will always be here, Mysore one more place to call

Cont’d – Read Part 2

Lost a Love

I cried for my writing today. I sat and wept like a friend had been lost, a loving dear friend who was with me during the hardest of times. It felt crippling, like I could no longer find myself, like a foundation I had built myself on was suddenly demolished.

I was in denial.

“I am writing professionally” I would say to the people who asked about the whereabouts of my non existent blogs. “Working on personal stuff”, I told my editor over over and again.

I read books on writing, I read books on non writing, I read books on fiction. I swam, I ran, I cycled. I tried auto rides, I tried the highs, I tried the lows. But none of them worked.

I tried getting inspired, I tried to let myself go, I tried writing for myself. I tried holding on to that string of hope that it was there, somewhere inside me.

But there I was, stuck .

Where did it go? I had to find it. So I spoke to people, tired forgetting about it, try to freewrite, try to journal. But the more I tried, the more it went away from me.

Then it turned to blame.

I blamed anything and everything possible – the weather, the work load, the lack of inspiration in my life.

But finally, today –

I said it out loud – “I have lost a friend”.

Oh friend, dear friend, please come back.

Why I Write Pt 1

“I can write about anything in this world. It is such a large beautiful world, there are so many stories floating in the air, everything to write about”. In the days when I feel the closest to my writing soul, I see the whole world as a story. I am living amidst words in mind. I have often wished that my thoughts at that point was possible to be recorded. But most often, my fingers unable to move at the speed my fingers can, fails to record all those thoughts.

But now, is not one of those times. The last few months have been a block. Either the words refuse to appear, or when they do, are stuck. I can literally feel my mind stuck – a strong physical feeling in my head.

The impeccable clarity that I have of life when I write is also missing. It’s like having a close friend who won’t talk. Now how do I call this friend back?

Finding Happiness

In this world where everything is constantly changing around you – how do you really decide what happiness really means to you?

For long time period of time in my adult life, I thought it was about the place, the geographical location of your home. I believed I would find joy in having the mountains around me, the slow life of the villages, away from the hectic hustle and bustle of life in the city. At that point of time, happiness to me was synonymous to peace of mind, and what could possibly be more peaceful than nature all around you all the time? The answer was in “running away to the mountains”, I told everyone.

A sudden unfortunate event shook me out of this belief. I lost a friend to depression – a friend who moved to the mountains for the exact same reason I wanted to go there – to find peace.

The belief that the place would bring me happiness was uprooted from my mind, in a brutal heart wrenching way.

I decided that if happiness if it had to found, had to be found within me. If I didn’t find happiness in the here and now, I wasn’t going to find it anywhere else.

If the present is uncertain, the future questions, bringing anxiety within it.

Pleasing the present can possibly only happen by enjoying it, in its smallest moments – little drops make an ocean, I concluded.

So I began chasing the joy in little moments – the auto rides, fairy lights in my bedroom, walking through streets, time with Ginger pup, beauty of trees and plants. I began working on a schedule that put more space for these little joys.

“Now, happiness will come”, I believed firmly.

This worked – for a short period of time. Soon, the seeking of schedule and organisation of life sucked the joy of spontaneous living. Little joys felt superficial, hanging in air without a thread to hold it together. Anxiety followed.

What is happiness?

I do not have a definition to explain. If there isn’t a definition, how do know you have found it? Is peace of mind synonymous to happiness? If not, then what else is it?

What is that thread that will connect the different joys together?

Controlling the Waves

I spent a lot of time today, struggling to control and stabilise the waves that keep pulsating through my thoughts and emotions. This process in itself was very energy-intensive, with me constantly trying to assess what helps improve the flow and what kills it. But through the day, my biggest worry was that anything that I did could tip the scales either way- a form of overthinking that led to the waves in the first place.

But this is a familiar space

Waves- ups and downs – constantly on the move, has been the way I have interpreted my emotions my whole life. After 27 years of living with these waves, one would assume that you start getting used to it. But that doesn’t seem to be the case here. The waves each day is different, different emotions, different sensations in the body.
Discovery of the self, I discover now – is possibly more difficult than that blissful ignorance. Now it is a universe that you can see – intellectually understand, but cannot imbibe.

It is frustrating beyond belief.

How do I make this happen – constantly in war with that human being inside the self, I wonder when that day would come when the mind is a clean slate-devoid of the waves and the torments.

“Don’t fight it – say my mom and my boss – similar thoughts articulated in different ways. “Let the waves take you- beautiful experiences can come out of there,” they said. It is true- the number of times have I experienced the highs and lows of a cycling route and rejoiced — a joy I cannot put in words. Why would this growth be so frustrating in life and thoughts?

Time plays a tricky role in this too. The intoxicating past, combined with the questioning future makes the present feel like it is going down hill.. But a few moments pass and my life, the way it is feels unbeatable. What is driving this constant flux?

“What is the purpose of life?”, I found myself asking the universe multiple times the last few months. A nagging feeling with that specific thought repeating over and over again in varying tones – sometimes to answer career questions, sometimes curiosity, sometimes depression.

If the purpose of cycling is joy, life could be a joy as well, I conclude. This seems logical at the time, but paradoxical life as it always is finds a way to make it difficult. Go looking for joy, joy runs far away- the minute you forget about it, it comes back. But if the key is to not look for it how does it appear?What to do in the interim?

I went over and over in a loop trying to fix this, penning my thoughts on – a summary of which forms this blog. My mind stretched out like an elastic.

“I will soon discover,” I say to myself and decide to close the rant for today.