I have been away from this newsletter for a while. I never plan these breaks. Rather, the breaks happen when I have pushed myself a little too hard.
My brain tells stories but my fingers can’t bring them to you, can’t write them down, put them on a piece of paper or this little page. I am constantly getting inspired – in little moments, by the stream in the park close to my home, on a solo aimless walk around Karoviertel, among the gold of the freshly nude trees that line most streets along the city. But those stories don’t find their way to you.
I reflect on why suddenly, this year, the passing of autumn breaks my heart; why the simple act of taking sick leaves cripples my heart with anxiety; why going to protest after protest after protest has started to feel pointless; why my mind is never at rest, even when I am meant to be away from work; why at the very bottom of my every day – after the workouts are done, the meals are eaten, the work day has ended, the books have been read – there exists a discontent so deep, so all-consuming that despite knowing the answer to everything, I don’t know what to do with it.
It’s Sunday and I spent most of today procrastinating. I read ‘Enter Ghost’ by Isabella Hamad, savouring the story for the first hours of my morning – taking it slow instead of trying to hit my Goodreads goal. The slight morning sun caressed my fingers as they slowly turned the thin pages of the paperback and my body grew restless. After the relentless summer heat, the autumn days induce an unbearable FOMO in me. If there is even a sliver of warmth or a tiny fraction of the sun rays tumbling onto the golden pavements, my legs itch to be outside, to slip on my warm jacket and sneakers and tumble onto the footpath myself. I peeked into the living room where Alex played Zelda and asked if we should go for a little walk. I can hit my step goals while we soak up some barely-there sunlight.
As the afternoon grew dark, we were back at home. I went back to my bed, watching some silly Netflix reality show about rich Indian ladies picking juvenile fights while Alex cooked dinner for us and retreated into the living room with his true-crime documentary. Somewhere between Shalini and Mahip’s bitch fight, I felt the pre-Monday dread slipping into my sheet, next to me, under my blanket, slowly crawling up my limbs and creeping into my heart.
A year ago I wrote about how I didn’t dread Mondays anymore. I loved my job, I enjoyed every bit of what I did. It had its challenges but something changed this summer. Earlier this year, I was filled with this hunger to write my book, to make my writing the centre of my life where my job exists only as a means to bring home the bucks so I can spend all of my free time on my art. Sometime around August, my hurt turned and I lost the feeling of motivation that was everywhere earlier in the year, in the things that kept my mind off the realities of the pain we witness every day on our phones.
I spent the rest of the evening scrambling to find the reason behind this restlessness, the lack of joy and the constant feeling of discontent that sat deep in my stomach like the after-effects of Sunday mangsho-bhaat straight from Ma’s kitchen. I hoped that tapping away at my keyboard, and telling you how I feel would ease my heart a bit.
In his book ‘The Message’, Ta-Nehisi Coates mentions that the goal of writing is to haunt. I am not sure if my words will have that effect on you. But I hope that when you read this newsletter, the heaviness in my heart will grow a little lighter. Maybe it will help me a bit when you tell me sometimes you feel the same. Sometimes the weight of duties, expectations and responsibilities get to you too. And maybe, in that knowledge, we will all find a bit of solace.
Until next time, hoping you find me relatable,
I am right there with you! I have gone back and forth in my mind about some big decisions of my life a bit too many times. But I'd like to think that is not a bad thing! It is only human. No matter what we decide, we will always think "what if...?". I don't think we can ever have a binary black-and-white mind where one decision is right and the other is wrong. So it is only natural that our level of motivation fluctuates. <3
I remember this feeling well and it's on one of these afternoons that I made the decision to come back to India. I would say it solved everything and my life has been like a cake walk since but it's not true. This too came with its own challenges, but I don't feel that deep discontent anymore. All challenges have been welcome, between the tantrums and weeping and heartbreak - still, I didn't feel the discontent. I don't know how much of this will help you either... But it's what I went through.