Happiness

Happiness is just an occasional episode in the general drama of pain. I have been using Thomas Hardy's brilliance since college. I throw the line at people when they ask me if I am happy. It's easier than explaining that I don't really understand happiness. For me happiness is me smiling without effort. After living with clinical depression, any time that I don't feel like just spontaneously combusting is happiness for me.

My therapist told me he chooses to be happy. I smiled. I also wondered if we could choose to be a koala bear, but that's a different headspace for another time. Back to the ever mind boggling concept of happiness and the pursuit of it. I never understood why we would have to pursue happiness. Shouldn't it be easy? Shouldn't it just be there? Shouldn't it just accompany you everywhere sticking to you like that lone long hair stuck between your butt cheeks?

"Are you happy? ", the man child asks me in the morning. I hesitate. He changes the question," Are you in a better place than yesterday? ". I smile." Yes. Better than yesterday". I go on to tell him in the same breath that I am worried about my stupid money not being credited in my stupid bank account and that the stupid bank people are not responding. Then I tell him I am still hurt by what a friend said which is why I was unhappy in the first place yesterday. I stop. I look at him and smile. "Other than that, yeah, I am doing way better than yesterday."

That's it. My happiness is transient like my days and hours and minutes. Ask me on any particular day if I am happy and I will have to go through the motions of thinking if I am feeling like I should just stop existing. If I am not, then yes sir, I am very happy. Today I woke up without wanting to sleep for the rest of the day. Yes siree I am happy. Today I smiled looking at the drizzly calm greenery of the city. Yes ma'am I'm happy. Today I did not sigh and think of all the ways I am not going to make it in life. Yes sweetheart I am happy.

So you see I find happiness in not feeling like shit. It is in fact just like the occasional hair I find stuck between my butt cheeks after a bath.

Memories

It is worrisome to see that one tiny photograph can impact nerves to no end. I mean from one end to another and then back. It is complete idiocy that runs through your neurons. I think our brains like the fact that it can wreak such utter havoc through sight. And smell. And touch.

There is a ticking time bomb in each of us. Some of us can suppress it better than others. Those of us who know no better fall into the trap and push the red button time and again without learning from mistakes. It is a little bit like forgetting to switch on the mosquito repellant. You know what pain is when the errant mosquito relishes the taste of your blood. The next time I will be wise we think. Then the welts fade, the pain subsides and one fine day you are cocky and forgetful again.

Memories are like the bullies who wouldn't stop throwing chalk at you. Some just glance by you. Some you dust off. Then there are some that hit you in the eye and you are in blinding pain for quite a while.

What about good memories you say? Well, I think all memories hurt a little. It is made up entirely of the past. You will always yearn for a double check, a look back, a time machine or oblivion. Memories are just rude shocks you did not expect from the expensive iron.

I may be cynical or just depressed, but when I wake up tomorrow I will still feel the same. What we feel is the absolute truth for us at every moment. My truth just makes more sense to me than yours.

We Loved An Idea

I wanna Hold your Hand

All about Monsters and How to kill them

Monsters change shapes and faces when we grow up. Adulthood comes with its own set of monsters that cease to reside under our bed. They take up spaces inside our heads, always instilling fear in us. Adulthood for women is fraught with perils both within and without. Paranoia is encouraged rather than cured in India. It's always better to be safe than sorry. Clichéd as it sounds, it is still the mantra every Indian girl stands by. Why? Because we are still afraid of monsters. Monsters who can harm us, both physically and emotionally. Monsters who can violate us, mute us and alter us. We fear the monsters on the road, at the market, in dark alleyways, schools, colleges and sometimes in our homes. Monsters have many faces. They live amongst us. They are our friends, colleagues and sometimes even related to us both by blood and by marriage.

Most part of our adult lives is spent worrying, being afraid and protecting ourselves. Have you ever wondered where women would be now if we had no monsters to worry about?

The worst kind of monsters are those that hide in plain sight. Talks like a good person, walks like a good person but violently abuses his partner. Gives to charity, cares for animals but molests small children. Is a loving father but treats his wife like property. Talks about women empowerment but wants his wife to serve him. Seems like a perfectly good person till he touches you inappropriately. We have all dealt with these monsters. We arm ourselves with pepper sprays and curfews to vanquish the demons. We try to stop them from harming us but never from existing at all.

Two most important things in India is religion and family. Why not spread the message of equality through them? Why not ask people to not turn into monsters? If religious leaders ask their followers to treat women as their equals, would they not follow? If every parent treats their sons and daughters the same, would the son still grow up thinking he is superior to the opposite sex? Can’t we stop the centuries of social conditioning with positive thought and learning? We can. However we choose to prevent rather than cure. We cover, we run, we cry out but never let the monster seed die. We admonish, we limit ourselves and we continue a struggle that is nothing more than a vicious cycle.

Stop. Think. Execute. And let it not Repeat.