Turning 43

For me birthdays have always been special. It’s your day, a day you celebrate you, it’s your name day (it looks like I am back to GoT mode once again). It’s the day for cutting cakes, dressing in your finest, wining and dining, and toasting you. Raising a toast to growing older, to another year under your belt. You made it through another year, or should I say, you survived another one. 

But turning 43 felt different. It felt lonely and melancholic, rather than joyful and celebratory. It had me feeling low and lost, a bit flustered and frustrated, a bit broody and weary and disturbed. It had me internalising and being an introvert.

And no, I have no problem with growing older, or even greyer. I have accepted that a longtime back and embraced it. Growing older has it perks, except when you get called an uncle. 

You are down not because of growing older but because of your circumstances, your situation.

2022 has been (so far),  a tough year. From struggling with health issues of the mental and physical kind, to the stubborn weight that refused to leave your side (literally). If that wasn’t enough you end up having to cope with break ups and heart aches. And then you have your loneliness that makes you wonder if you are ever going to find a suitable mate, even before you have given yourself time to heal from your past wounds. You wonder, do good men deserve to find love, even the vanilla, boring kind.

Your expectations, your loneliness, your fear from your past, your past mistakes, your past situations, your past experiences, lead you down the path of anxiousness, of self-doubt, and self-inflicted pain.

There were times (and there are still time) where you wish you could escape it all, where you wished that this pain would end, that this feeling of loneliness could just go away and leave you to yourself (the irony of the statement). Where you could sleep and never wake up.

All you wanted to do is runaway from it all, put an end to it all, find some peace of mind, when you feel there’s no end in sight. Somehow you struggle with your loneliness the fear of being alone, fear of being rejected, fear of not being accepted cause you don’t vibe, or you don’t satisfy them physically. All leaves you wondering if you deserve to find someone to love you like the way you are willing to love.

If I could sum up my head, before my birthday, I could do it in these lyrics by Roxette -

You want to hide when you're alone

Where do you run to when everything's gone

You're looking to find a good thing in life

But nothing's in sight at the end of the line

So where do you hide when you're alone

Where do you run to when you're on your own

That dream in the dark just sank like a stone

That voice in your heart

It won't come to the phone

It never comes

Rishikesh has always been on the list of places I wanted to travel to, with all the people visiting it , and yes wanted to do rafting and bungee jumping. Also, I wanted to take a stab at solo travels. I heard of so many people talk about doing a solo travel, it made me want to do the same and see what’s the fuss was all about, experience it all.

But then there was also a fear and sense of hesitation and nervousness, considering I was going through a low, confusing, patch in life. You have this sense of apprehension of whether if this is the right thing to do, is this the right moment go on such an undertaking. But you need to to get away from it all, cause if you don’t, it threatens to consume you whole.You need to find your sanity, you need to find a peace of mind and so you go on the trip.

While in Rishikesh, I may not have found the answers to the questions that riddled my mind, or a way out of the circumstances I had put myself in, the predicament I found myself in. I don’t think I even expected to find answers and solutions, for that matter even love (though somewhere you hoped you could have one those romantic stories where you find love on trips).

What Rishikesh did give me were moments of peace and tranquility, moments to sit in silence and take it all in. Moments to declutter my mind, moments to make sense  of the insanity in my head. It gave me moments to appreciate the faith and beliefs of humanity, to not view everything from a religious point, to open your mind and just accept. 

So be it sitting quietly at the ghats, observing the mighty Ganga as it flowed steadily, while devotees took dips in her, trying to find a way to wash away their past transgressions, to get her blessing, to find moksha.

You found peace while dipping your feet in a stream, or just observing it flow, overcoming all the obstacles, the rocks that came in its way, and in it you found a lesson for yourself.

You found serenity just staring at the mighty Ganga as she flowed through the valley down below, or the Misty mountains covered in clouds, with the moon right over it. 

But then there were crowds and crowds of people with their mobile phone trying to click pics and selfies as they crossed the bridges, or pedestrians walking in lanes meant for vehicles. And while you want to take in the Ganga Aarti, you have these aunties who insist on video calling their relatives, or capturing it on their phones which they held up, even though they had the best seats on the ghats. But then you realised you too were one of them.

You have crowds and crowds of people  in places where you wish you could have some peace and tranquility.

Then you had your dorm mate who insisted on being your guide and show you around the place and take you through lanes and by lanes and telling you about places and myths, when you just wanted some alone time to be with yourself and thoughts. But in hindsight, I did appreciate his company, cause me alone with my thoughts would have been a recipe for disaster.

My decision to stay in dorm of a hostel, rather than at a hotel, actually helped quite a bit. It pushed me to get out of introverted shell, which I keep going into, make acquaintances and find my own way, rather meander around, dragging my feet feeling sorry for myself.

So at the end of this little strip, little solo adventure, I may have not found the solution to my problems, answers to my questions, ways to stop reading into things too much, to stop overthinking. I was still still a bit disturbed, still had heaviness and anxiety. 

However, what I did get a from this trip were moments of clarity, moments to realise that if I need to find peace, I need to make peace in my mind, accept the situation , have no expectations, anchor myself. I had to avoid letting my emotions to get the better of me, though it’s alright to be emotional at times , to cry at times, but not let it control me. I have to stop overanalysing and overthinking and over reading into things, cause the more I did it the more I am leaving myself open to hurting myself. I had to stop having expectations from others, cause everyone has their own ways and agendas.

But most importantly I learned I desperately needed to be by myself for sometime, not let my loneliness become my desperate need to be loved and in a relationship. I needed to be more kind to myself, more appreciative and respectful of myself as I am of others. And accept myself for who I am, a little broken, a little damaged, a little disturbed.

So there you have it, I am 43 and sure hope I can put these realisation to effect to help me be better and saner.

And do I want to do more travels on my own, well the world is large and life is short, so why not I enjoy my own company while making memories.

The not quite 40 year old Virgin!

Hey there! Hope I didn’t shock you, I didn’t scandalise you? Oh come on! What did you do spect!!! I am not that innocent! What did you think? Ye bole surat pe mat ja (if my surat can be called that)! But then my sexual escapades isn’t the topic of discussion here, so sorry to burst your inquisitive bubble, was worried about your well-being, after all curiosity did kill the cat!

Well, to get to the point, wow, four decades (or almost, depending when I get this one out), where did you go!!! Is it possible to form memories of infancy? I don’t think so! I have sure come a long, long way, from the cherubic bun pav, to this road runner (beep, beep) who’s still not yet quite grown, an overthinker, not quite the optimist, the over caring, over doing fool, day dreamer, perpetually lost, with my head stuck in the cloud, always ready to doze off at the drop of the hat, a slow learner, fitness freak (though I detest being called one), a jive lover, a love fool, not a model from any angle! Wow that’s quite a lot of adjective for one boy (if I dare call a 40 year old uncle that’s).

If life’s a rollercoaster, I am going to ride it till the very end, enjoying the highs and lows, experiencing the thrills of all the twists and turns, dips and falls. I am going to put my hands in the air and scream till I can scream no more, till my throat is sore. If life’s like red wine, I am gonna get drunk on it (an ironic statement from a teetotaller). I have faced the lemons thrown at me (and I know for sure it isn’t done yet), didn’t quite have tequila, but did have my fair share of lemonade that I can say I have a lemon overdose.

I have been through heartaches and heartbreaks, loved and lost, and loved and lost once more, all of my own doing. Not that I am a Love fool, with my heart on my sleeves, it’s just that I am a sucker for that loving feeling l and I hope I never loose it, cause you can never know when Cupid shall strike you down with its arrow. Through all the heartbreaks, and coming to terms with myself, I still have hope, and still grateful for each of them cause I’ve grown through each of them. I’ve had false starts, gotten way ahead of myself, got into my head. I have learned that’s its never good to overthink or go too fast. Let things flow, let things happen let things take its own time to mature, hiding on to your horses. I have seen friends and their families, with their better halves, and wished I could have the same, show my affections without caring about others, to be who I am, to love who I want. After all I am just a boy standing in front of a _____ asking to be loved, asking them to have this dance forever.

I have always been a person who has strived to be there for others when they need me, feeling hopeless and guilty when I am unable to do so, when they don’t seek out help. But who provides hope when you need it the most. I hate that hopeless feeling of being all alone, having no one to turn to, when I need them the most. I don’t think I can ever bear the thought of loosing another loved one, of sitting through chemo, seeing a loved one slowly slip away, to stand all by myself as they unbox the mortal remains of your father. I wish I had someone to console me, to hold me, to tell me, rather than me forcing myself to be strong. In these moments I wish I had someone to hold on to, cry and not care.

I have made my fair share of mistakes, and I say fair share I mean a lot. I have stumbled and fell, fallen smack on face, sometimes on my fat ass. I have by my lowest of lows without reaching the highest of highs, I’ve done things, said things, I know I’m not proud of, things I’ve regretted. But I have learned to live with my mistakes, dusted myself and picked myself, and at times repeated those mistakes again. I have my share of setbacks and disappointments. There have been moments when I have wanted to scream and shout, to let that lump in my throat turn to tears, and let it flow. There have been time when I wanted to give it all up, to let it go. But in these moments of darkness I found a resilience to fight through it, and I hope I can help others fight their demons, in my own little way.

Through running and writing I’ve found a way to lay it all on the road and in the words. In those words I have found a way to say things, express views that I find difficult to say. The roads have helped find a way to take my frustrations, pains and sorrows, to push myself beyond me. Running has given me a way to give back what I have received (and I mean this in a  good way).

So, wow, four decades done and dusted, I hope I can make it through another. So here’s to the decades gone by, to the years to come, to love and life and all it has in store. So cheers to love, life, family and friends, the years to come, the memories to be made, looking forward to what it has in store for me. And yes when I go out I want to go out dancing!

She says She’s 68... but She don’t know she’s Beautiful

I have known her for most part of my life, well even more and before, after all she did carry me for nine months in her womb, and from that moment, and as long I live, I had an instant connection with her (of course I was connected to her by an umbilical cord), the moment I saw her she imprinted on my heart (or did I do that to her?).

A simple (at times sample) woman, who spent most of her time, most of her life, caring for her family, caring for her in-laws, but now for quite a while it’s been just the two of us, as our tribe dwindled due to mortality of time (and the nestlings who moved on from the nest).

A woman of simple taste and slight awkwardness, but great hidden strength and determination, and yes a whole lot of patience (after all she needs it when she has a confused child like me). I may chide about going for walks, doing her tests and check ups, but I know she can and she does take her self. And when I scold her for her indulgences and giving into her little chocolate temptations, and how it will impact her diabetes, she just quips that she’s not diabetic and her diabetes are under control and she’s eating a little after food is allowed.

She would rather have me sleep than waking at odd hours, would rather have me rest than exerting myself going for a run or hitting the gym. She can never understand how I run so much for so long and don’t stop without getting tired. She never truly gets how I do the things I do (sometimes even I don’t get it myself).

My running friends, who know her, simply adore her, and take care of her whenever she joins us for outstation runs or trips. So she may not run, but she they admire her sportsmanship and stamina when we went sightseeing in Ladakh, and they in turn took care of her. 

She hates me posting her pics on Facebook or Instagram or any social media site, rationalising as to why should the world know what she’s doing and why let bad eyesight fall. She doesn’t think she’s beautiful and doesn’t like to be fussed upon. She feels she ain’t worth it. 

But no matter what she says she’s mean the world to me. For me she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, no one comes even close. She may say she’s 68 (though she’s not too sure about it) but she don’t know that she’s beautiful.