Hello stranger!

The first rule of friendship, is to spend quality time with your friend.

Sometimes, when I walk home after a long day's work, this is what I day dream about.

Me in a pair of shorts and tee with a longish loose hanging checked shirt and canvas shoes, a cute sling bag crossed over my shoulder, walking along unknown cobbled streets of a smallish town - not a village - nor a big city - just a small town, good for walking around, but big enough to see people going about their daily lives. Where no one knows me, but people are nice and friendly, so they smile at me once in a while.

Where I am a stranger, but not a tourist. I am curious, not about monuments and museums, but about everyday things. Like the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and bread from a local bakery. Or a mural painting, casually adorning a building wall.

Of course I carry a book with me, that I occasionally take out and read from, and then spend loads of time looking around reflecting. I also carry my journal, where I note down ideas, sketch cartoons -  perhaps of the bartender, while he is busy serving beer to the locals, in a familiar-lazy manner - just like any small town local bartender would, while talking and fooling around, lending an ear to those who need, and giving an earful to some other.

I feel light and free, and I seem happy. I am travelling light, and I don't seem to care about my destination. I am so integrated with my journey, that it doesn't even seem like one.

In fact, it seems like I am floating through time and space, and my being is as inconsequential as it is meaningful. My struggle to prove myself and my race to find and define myself seems like a distant memory. I look comfortable in my own skin, and I seem to enjoy the moment.

I am fully aware, that this is only a moment, and it will pass - but I don't seem to be in a rush to find out.

Then of course, I reach home at the end of the walk. And the first thing I do, is distract myself.

I pull out my laptop, check facebook, then gmail, then back to facebook (since I have forgotten that I've already checked it a few minutes back, until I see the same shared article, by someone I don't quite remember too well, but I am too lazy to unfriend anyone) and then to youtube (my newest thing is to watch Indian stand-up comedians, and a few lifestyle vloggers, though I am not committed enough to subscribe or like anything.)Then I log on to an online shopping website, but luckily get bored within a few minutes. So next I come up with some 'girly' movies that I haven't seen before - but I am so restless, I cannot even watch the first ten minutes without the need to fast forward. And all this time, I try hard to ignore the small voice inside my head judging me for wasting my life on junk (well some of it is quite creative, but most of it is junk).

And then finally, finally I realise, that whenever I get some time, I just keep running away from myself. And I have to stop doing that.

But, how do I go about reconciling the image of me that I have in my head, to the reality that I have become? All I know is that, there is a gap that needs bridging. A fear, that I need to lose, and some baggage that I need to shed. Though, it's mostly in my head, and that is what makes it so much more tricky. But I know I have to make time for this journey...

... before I forget how to look into the mirror and smile, not for the camera, but for myself.

No age limit to baby steps

While running through this express mission that is life, in the past year, I have at times suddenly stopped and noticed that I am growing old.
And while that is not such a shocking observation on its own (no Newton's laws were broken in the making of this fun fact), it is still an awareness that I cannot easily push to the back of my mind.
(And the birthday month is of course the best time of the year to think such happy thoughts :)

But it is not just the lack of black and the addition of grey hair, that makes me stop and accept this painful realisation. Nor is it the noticeably less number of alcoholic beverages that I can stomach lately and still stay awake. But strangely, it is more evident in moments that I catch myself philosophising in between conversations.

Now, I have always had the habit of delivering punch lines in a dramatic way. I know I do that when I write. But did I always do it while speaking to people as well? I don't know. Seems like one of those things that 'bade, buzurg (old and respectable)' people do.

The other day I caught myself advising someone, that while there is nothing wrong in loving your job (I never understood why it is cool to call those who love their jobs as 'sad'), we should have another hobby. The minute I said this aloud, I felt like an awkward old lady. So I stopped abruptly wished him good night and left. But I would like to continue my line of thought here on this blog.

I have seen, that no matter how much you love your work, there will always be days when things won't be perfect. There will be days when you may even hate your job (yes the same one that you love so much).
It is for these days, that a completely different hobby is extremely important. It allows you to disengage your emotions from the first point of focus, your work, to something else that you like equally. And this helps in keeping the passion alive and getting less frustrated in general.

This is what is meant by 'work-life-balance' I guess. I have heard this many times, but like many other corporate terminologies, I have dismissed it before. So caught up was I in winning my daily battles.


***stopped writing here in December, and picking this up in March, with exactly the same thought -- Get a hobby***

My mentor advised me the same last time I spoke to him. And I really need one. But you cannot grow one overnight.

I only ever had two, before the time that I started defining myself. Right from my pre-self-aware days,
1. Write (create stories, characters) and
2. Dance

I do little or none of both of these now.

So I am going to go ahead and post this note up on my blog, even though it is written haphazardly over multiple time lines, and without even bothering to edit it, just because I have to learn to put myself out there again. Little by little. Tiny baby steps.

Just because you grow old, doesn't mean you perfect the art of living life - to me it is still a learning curve, and a steep one at that.