Aananda

 Joan Didion wrote a book called ‘The Year of Magical Thinking’, about the grief and mourning that followed her husband’s death in December 2003. This book is investigative journalism attacking the self. A writer’s deep reflection on the end of a symbiotic relationship of 40 years; the bereavement and irrationality that followed; and the vortexes she couldn’t escape. I’m 19 as I write this. I was never the target audience for this book. Even as I binged through reading it, I knew this book wasn’t for me. But if grief hits everyone the same, I was reminded that it hit my mother too. I saw what it was like for her to go through the intense grief following the death of my father. And how she was then asked, throughout the years, to shed these parts of herself and look ahead. Time and again, people who grieve are asked not to indulge in self-pity even when every timed-by-the-clock habit that they’ve followed for decades, have to at once, be discarded. Conversations and chores wou...

A friend of mine recently wrote me a poem. A birthday present telling me that she loved me despite all differences. I have to mention ‘despite all differences’ because our story was never that of just love. Her poem didn’t sugar coat the oscillations of ‘connection, disconnection and reconnection’ that all friendships (including ours) are invariably made of; but rather she hailed them as our battle scars. When I stare straight into love like that, which has the audacity to charge regardless of all differences, I get uncertain of my own ability to do that. Because there have been so many times that I couldn’t. Like with family, where love exists but in some weird corner that is sometimes difficult to access; and I’m unable to love despite all differences. Or with friends I’m so used to taking for granted. I’m sure love exists there too, but I don’t think I ever looked at how I let it blur out; how I let myself grow indifferent to the same things that bring value to life. I hate what th...

To all those who have helped me, and through that, taught me how to help others. An important tool that I have been trying to learn recently, is the ability to ask for help. I’ll have to admit, there has been quite an intolerable level of feminism fueled independence in me, and I’ve often seen it as a personal failure to 'ask' for help. But I think I’ve lived through that mindset long enough to realize that I am wrong in so many ways. I guess this 'intolerable independence' is the result of our self-help culture, that has vehemently preached that 'the answer lies within us'. And although it is true that the answer does lie within us; I realize asking for help doesn’t really negate that sentence. It only helps you reduce the burden of negative cognitions. And by the end of it all, answers are something that we have to find for ourselves anyway. That being said, receiving good help isn’t easy. A lot us do not know how to respond when someone asks for help, and re...

While growing up, we all had that one artist we worshiped like they’re our One True God. Actors, musicians, writers, animators; we see them as larger than life itself. For many of us, art is the only form of therapy we know; the only thing that made us feel seen. But this idolization has unintentionally made the definition of art exclusive. And our view of art and artists has grown narrower and narrower. I recently heard Will Smith say ‘Parenting is more Art than Science’. This line is fascinating as it beautifully deters from what art is usually connoted to.  It serves as a reminder  that life itself is more art than science,  and there is creative energy in   every move we make. We often lose sight of this; suffocated by thousands of books telling us how life should be lived; and education that numbs the childlike wonder that we should foster in every single aspect of our life.  From the food we cook and the way we want our breakfast b...

Doctor’s with a shitty personality can be more annoying than other people with a shitty personality. He who is put on a pedestal next to God does not get a pass at being shitty, and yet there are so many of them. And with this pandemic, doctors have penetrated our homes through  panel discussions and debates on TV.  And the shitty ones get a bullhorn stuck right in front of them.    ‘Should people hoard the new covid-19 drug?’ the reporter asked. 'Rising tensions with regard to possible supply shortage has left people alarmed, and they believe hoarding as the only way they can protect themselves. What do you suggest?' Honestly, this felt like a fairy reasonable conclusion that most of us would come to. Although deep down we all know hoarding isn’t an ideal response to the pandemic, we aren’t above that compulsion. The doctor who was on the show that day responded with a mocking chuckle , followed by a definite no. ‘No we shouldn’t hoard the new drug’ he said. A...

Nobody has been paying rents and dues since 2 months. And being someone who depends on rental income, it’s a huge pain in the ass to talk to tenants and hear their financial constraints for the 100 th time, although deep down you know that they’re pretty well off enough to pay. But my mom, being the kind woman she is, decided to meet our tenants to discuss partial rent waiving. And so we went to see him. But honestly, all tenants would comfortably wish their owners disappear so that they don’t have to talk about rent at all. When we sat down with him, he spoke in the audible frequency of a snake. And not even a “healthy, mildly enthusiastic about life, harry potter kind of snake”. This was a snake too haughty to care about being audible. We couldn’t hear a single thing he said without leaning in. God knows we tried to maintain a 6 feet distance. But on a safer note, we wore our green home-stitched masks that wrinkled like raisins because it has been washed too many times, and he had h...