where do we go now?

I’ve realised that I end up taking stock only at the end of the year when it hits me that I need to change the dates on letters and posts yet again. Just when one gets used to writing 2014, it changes to 15. And so on.

2014 was maddening for me. In good ways and in some very, very bad ways. The beginning of the year was not too great and it went on to become horrific for my family and I when we lost my cousin and his wife on Malaysia Airlines jet MH370. I worked on auto-pilot that month till I was packed off by my mother to Beijing to help with my cousin’s two little boys.

Last night a missing aircraft was found in the Java Sea, which brought back memories of MH370 all over again. I’ve had to accept now that we will never know what happened to my two family members on the flight, along with 237 others. It wasn’t so much the incident itself that pushed me over the edge. It was humanity itself. People, their reactions, their inability to leave it alone instead of pondering the million things which could have happened, it all got to me. And while many people (including ones who barely knew me) were surprisingly thoughtful, many were also surprisingly callous.

The world seems to have moved on, but I don’t think my family ever will. Each time we look at my nephews or hear about their nightmares, their fears or them missing their parents, we will be reminded about what happened, or in this case what could have happened.

While the first half of the year seems to have been dominated by this, the second half brought more changes. The shift to a new city, a new part of the country, was something inevitable that I’d been putting off for a couple of years. The capital always seemed a daunting place, especially to someone from a relatively placid south Indian city.

Delhi has so far been everything that people warned me about, but other things as well. Yes, it’s aggressive and loud, it’s callous, ruthless, does everything it can to make you stronger. But it also has options like no other city. It’s hard to be lazy in Delhi. I’d planned a long break, but somehow, even without really pushing myself to find work, I’d got three job offers within three weeks of moving. And all in a new field (after I’d decided the media didn’t do it for me anymore).

The city always has something going on, and for everyone. For someone who doesn’t like noise and big crowds, even Chennai didn’t have too many options sometimes. But the capital is full of old buildings, beautiful monuments, large green parks, and I’ve found book stores to roam in when I’m bored. Dance performances, rock shows, talks and lectures, you name it and Delhi has it. If I feel like going out, I know I can. And yes, you have the large groups of teenagers and couples everywhere, but it’s not unusual to see some lone rangers doing things on their own. For every action here, there *is* an equal and opposite reaction.

It may not be home yet, it may not have a beach or endless options for a cup of good filter coffee, but I’ve noticed a few things not relating to just the aggressive gun-toting Haryanvis and Punjabis here. While Chennai was placid and laid-back, I’ve realised people there are too inert sometimes. If a boy had arbitrarily reached out for a girl from behind and grabbed her at a party in Delhi, it would not go easily dismissed. Whereas I’ve seen the very same thing happen in Chennai in front of a large group (everyone pretended it didn’t happen, including her male best friend and even me). Peoples’ sense of their own rights is very acute here in Delhi. Women’s safety is a big issue, and hence made a hue and cry about. I find changes in my own behaviour in less than two months here. Even jokes made about women are not as easy to forget as before. In a country full of culture, rich in history, people seem to have forgotten about equality and respect. Not just for the opposite gender, but for humans in general. In that sense Delhi is a lot more accepting of different types of people than Chennai.

If I am likely to stand up for myself or another woman in my hometown, no doubt I will now be classified as a pushy Delhi-ite. But in the capital, I would just be normal. And while I was part of a small group in the ‘unmarried girl in late 20s’ section in my hometown, here I’m just a girl, or a woman, depending on who’s looking. The tendency to colour outside of the lines is much more common in this city, which is something I can definitely get used to.

The year has also taught me a little more about myself. Like all other years, I suppose. It has brought me some surprising friendships and bonds, and has allowed me to let go of some surprisingly unhappy friendships too.

I can’t say I have any regrets. Maybe I could have been more patient with a few people, but I’ve become more attentive to time – whom I give it to, and why.

For the first time perhaps, I have no idea where the next year will take me. Physically, I will be in the same city. But emotionally and mentally, I’m completely unprepared for what’s coming. I’ve seen many people come and go, but only this year did I realise just how everything can change in an instant. With a single phone call or text, lives and paths can be altered forever.

I know I’m tough enough to handle whatever is coming. I just hope I’m accepting enough to manage the joys as well, without asking too many questions or wondering how it could turn to ashes in the future.

'hindsight is 20/20' - thank you, 2013

I was at work a couple of nights ago, when my boss comes up to us jaded folk on the city news desk. And he said, "Write a year-ender piece!" to nobody in particular. I tried avoiding his eyes, and looked to the other people on the desk. I wondered if they thought the same thing I was thinking – that this year hasn’t really been a ‘professional’ year for me. I won’t say it’s been unproductive or pointless or any of that. It’s been great in many ways. And while it’s been pretty public in some ways, it’s also been excessively private (as I am wont to be).

This year has been extreme. The first six months were the total opposite of the last six months. And while I do not regret the first six months, I hope I don’t have to go through that combination of things again. A couple of them, sure. All factors put together? Well, I’m fairly certain I’ll never allow it to happen again, and I hope the powers-that-be agree with me.

To say it’s been an enlightening year would be a terrible understatement. I have learnt so much about myself, life, people and so on. In some ways, I have shocked myself and broken some rules. But I'd expected that since, like I’d mentioned, it’s been a year of extremes.

Before I began writing this, I read my ‘year-ender’ from 2011. Then too I was in a good place, but just beginning a journey that year that ended for me this year. The juxtaposition of the younger, more hopeful me back then, with who I am now has helped. I’ve realised that on occasion I've also begun saying things that make me sound like an old woman. Especially to a younger friend of mine who sometimes reminds me of myself when I was younger. All in all, I feel wiser at the end of this year. Far wiser. And happier than I think I’ve been in a while. It’s a bittersweet happiness sometimes; one that comes from a couple of scars and all that drama. But it’s no worse than I’ve already been through in my life.

I found myself telling a close friend that this has been a wonderful year. That every day, I am grateful for the thing that happened mid-June which drove me to another place in my life. I was not exaggerating. It sounds dramatic, and I may have used up my quota of clichés this year. But they’re all true. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, every cloud has a silver lining, oh and my favourite -- everything happens for a reason, and it will all make sense later. Some of these are terribly corny, especially when I say them out loud. But, well. *shrug*

2013 also made me realise one of the biggest cliches in the world rings true for me – that even if we have a plan and it goes awry, it’s usually for a bloody good reason. Even if it makes no sense why some people get away with wreaking havoc thoughtlessly in others’ lives, it’s again for a damn good reason. And that there’s no point caring about other people’s lives if they don't care for yours. People have joked about revenge with me. One asked me if something I did someway through the year was to spite someone who had hurt me. [Of course, this was from a male friend and they can be pretty dense, no matter how much they love me :)] I don't want revenge. I want world peace! Alright, that might be a bit hard. But I'd like to not hate people and also like not to be hated.

There are a lot of ‘I’s in this year-ender. I'm used to noting how many 'I's are there in my writing, scaling down on the subjectivity and all that. But I've spent too much time not thinking about myself earlier. And maybe, the things I’ve been shown and the epiphanies that have happened will all be shared with a friend along the way.

I'm not making any resolutions for 2014. I probably won't stick to them. And I'm seriously lacking in faith in humanity anyway. But I'll try this -- I'll try not to judge people. Or hate them for things they might to. Even if it hurts me. What's another little scar. I'll be bloody fine. =) Some tears, some laughter, it's all just part of a life of one human -- a little speck in the universe.

And if something really bothers me.. well there is always the pool of caramel that I wake up to each morning, which solves most problems anyway. My Labrador's eyes.

eight days

It was perfectly normal, the last sunrise of the year. I don’t see why everyone was making such a big deal of it – it was like every other day, the sun rose in the east, set in the west, around the same time as the day before.

I watched it from my window, with a cup of coffee warming my hands. “It could be the last, you could get run over by a drunken bastard tonight or go blind and never see another sunrise again,” my roommate remarked as we both stared at it and I voiced my cynicism to her.

“That could happen any other day of the year too, ya?”

“Agreed.”'

And we both went back to sleep for a quick nap before work.

That was a bad idea.

In New Delhi, winter is awful. No central heating, lack of warm water if you share a flat with two women, and one of them washes her hair... the list goes on. Especially for one who has been brought up in balmier weather. Much balmier weather.

According to the BBC weather website, it was 24 degrees Celsius in my home city. Delhi was at nine degrees.

I woke up late, to no hot water, had to heat water just to wash my ass, and brushed my teeth, washed my face and armpits in freezing cold water, cursing the roommate who washed her hair that morning, throughout the painful process. Then I doused myself in Kylie Minogue's latest fragrance and ran.

The normal route to office involved a short auto rickshaw ride, a long ride in the subway, and then I’d have to hop into another auto.

Obviously that morning I did not have time to do all that. And no self-respecting auto driver in the Indian capital wanted to drive from Chittaranjan Park to Gurgaon in peak morning traffic. I couldn’t really blame them.

“We can share this auto if you want,” one creepy dude told me after he’d seen me unsuccessfully try to talk seven auto drivers into getting me to Gurgaon.

“How the fuck will you get an auto to Gurgaon?” I asked him. He demonstrated – the Delhi way. By offering the driver four times the normal amount of money. And let me tell you, even the normal amount of money is obscene.

I declined the scintillating opportunity to share an auto with a dweeb. Yes, I said dweeb.

I even heard another guy laughing at me from a tea shop across the road. He’d been watching me too, and saw the showoff with the money. I made a face at him before setting off on my such-a-brisk-walk-it’s-almost-a-jog to the train station.

I turned up at office an hour and half late. After having left my phone in an auto. Disastrous end to a perfectly normal year, somewhat disproving my theory. ‘No, this also could have happened on any other day,’ I thought.

It got somewhat better when I got a call from a girl who had found my mobile phone in the auto. She must have been the passenger after me. I was so relieved I almost cried. My precious Blackberry, with all my 1,674 contacts, my emails, notes and whatnot would be returned to me later that afternoon during her lunch break.

Since I’d turned up to work ninety minutes late, I had no lunch break. I was still phone-less at 4 pm, missing a ton of “hey, what are you doing for New Years Eve” calls and messages from clients. Strangely I wasn’t in a rush to get it back.

I’d already been wished by my parents the night before. “Jaan, Mrs Mehta’s son is back from Yale Business School... We met him last night, he’s very smart you know, he’s also a little creative like you. He plays the ghatam!....” so on and so forth. Somewhere in there was a new year greeting.

Monisha (of course her name was something pseudo-arty-socialite, I thought to myself) was busy and had asked a very reliable colleague to return my phone to me at Coffee House at 6 pm. I wondered who else was not rushing back to the city for New Years Eve plans and was returning a mobile phone to a stranger at 6 pm – a creepy stalker or someone who believed in karma, had done something really bad in 2011 and wanted to redeem himself. Because good people did not exist in New Delhi, the most corrupt city in the world. The galaxy. The universe. You get my point.

I sat at the designated meeting place, waiting for my king size latte. And the guy, who was obviously was late. What if I had plans, I thought grumpily, and took out the latest Murakami book from my bag.

I looked up when the coffee arrived and saw the guy from the tea shop across the road that morning. He was on his phone. He saw me, grinned and came over, plonking himself in the seat opposite me. I raised my eyebrows.

He put my Blackberry down on the table, while still yelling at someone about a financial transaction gone wrong.

I stared open-mouthed. My hometown was a small city where coincidences happened. Delhi was like the New York of India – these things did not happen.

“I’d ask you to buy me coffee in return for this, but now I’m thinking dinner,” I heard him say after he'd finished his phone call.

I looked at him dubiously. Pat came another line, “You can’t even say no now, I have your phone number.”

He wasn’t really very attractive. Maybe an inch taller than me, in black pants, white shirt, carrying a bag shaped to fit in a laptop and files – not like the dreamy, artistic men I’d dated when I was young(er). Following which I was single for four years.

“Sameer. My name is Sameer.” He held out his hand.

“Gayathri.” I mumbled back, shaking the offered hand.

We spent four hours at the coffee shop while he tried his various witticisms on me. I don’t think I realised what time it was till we were told the store was shutting. 10.20 pm.

I got his number and got company on my way home. Of course he lived in C R Park, he was having tea right across from my apartment in the morning.

I’d like to say something like “....and that’s how I met your father, kids”, but honestly, even though he may have swept me off my feet a bit eight days ago, it’s only been eight days. It could have just been a perfectly normal end to the year, not the esoteric beginning to the story of my times with a man who could be the love of my life.

Though I wouldn’t mind that, he seems to be a pretty good kisser.

mercenary winters

winter in Delhi was almost too much to handle. I only survived because I knew I would be leaving. Chennai has spoilt me, kept my body and heart warm too long. maybe a few years in a mercenary place like Delhi would do me good.

I end this year determined for a big change this coming year. my hometown is warm, but it's also comparatively sedentary, not big on change. I could live here forever, work at the same place forever, have the same routines till I die. I don't intend to. I'll come back, obviously. it *is* home, after all. well, I intend to at least. but it's time for a break, some mercenary cold, and a big change in routine. I deserve it for slacking off so much in the last year or two.

here's to change! *clinks beer mug/whiskey glass*