aisi udaasi baithi hai dil pe
ki hasne se ghabra rahe hai
The title translates to - There’s such profound sadness resting on my chest, as if it’s waiting for something… that I am wary of laughing. The song is - Dil To Bachcha Hai Ji.
I often think about these lines. Is sadness a monster on my chest? Am I afraid to laugh in case there’s movement on my chest and this Sadness Monster wakes up and remembers its job - to devour me? Or is the sadness so heavy that I am scared that if I try to laugh, I will end up being unable to, and what’s more pathetic than that, right?
Tonight I am thinking of my own simplicity. I have realized I don’t really want a lot. Is it a good thing? That is something that I will choose to not think about. I mean, when I separate myself from the world around me, and think about the things that I want, they are all quite simple. A soft bed, a golden lamp, books and a place to keep those books in. I hope to go places and then come back, alone but fulfilled. That’s enough right? Why am I asking you? Would you say yes, though, would you tell me this smallness isn’t a waste?
I know I have been absent from here a lot lately. But this newsletter is where I don’t want to pretend. But it is also true that I don’t owe you anything. But then, who is asking for anything?
I am not in a good place, but I am trying. I am sticking to my rituals, I am making them stick to me. There’s affection and fondness in my life. I am working. I am trying to get past hurdles in my life with as much grace and courage as I can muster.
Dear readers, I am living, just like all of you.
I do have something nice to talk about. I have been doing things I had only ever daydreamed about. I feel like I am turning into those cool strangers I’d see in public places when I’d be out with my parents - at the railway station, in a passing car, in a well-off neighbourhood. I’d get overcome by a violent sadness, why was I not them? They looked so… free. Better. Happier. Grown up.
Now, I am nearing that stage in my life. I have picked my bag up and gone on trips, I have had little children look at me with wide eyes, and I have had strangers compliment me.
But then, does this go on to prove that those beautiful strangers too had such sad and pathetic secret lives? God, I hope not!
Here’s what I had written a month ago, when I had started working on this issue. I was not in Delhi then, but in a different place altogether, living with my roommates. Today one of them called me, and I called her back because I missed it, instead of ignoring it. We laughed so much, and I realised how we are capable of falling back into dynamics with people. Habits. Love those.
After my friend has me in her hold, I can feel a neck sprain erupting slowly, like a flower blooming. I cannot help but think of what Michelle Zauner has said in Crying In H Mart, about her mother, and love and well, yeah -
I then think about how there’s so many different kinds of love. I love my friend, in a way. Would I die for her? No. And that’s okay because she would never ask me to die for her. At most she will ask me to oil her hair, or give up a guy for her. And that’s okay too.
Would I die for my mother? Absolutely. I would die for her tomorrow if she asked. But is she ever going to ask me to do that? No. Because she doesn't love me This way. She loves me That way and I am absolutely grateful for it even though we shouldn’t have to be grateful to our parents.
One day maybe I will tell you about my father as well. All I can say is, I wish I wasn’t scared of him even in poetry. On paper. Where I control him.
“I was looking for a love unlike my parents’ love or my sister’s love or the love on a foreign kitchen floor. I wanted my own kitchen to keep clean and full of bread and milk and hot sauce and a big clean empty sink where I could wash my dishes. I wanted to forgive my mother and father for their misery and find myself a light man who lived buoyantly and to be both his light and his dark, serious baby.”
— Rebecca Dinerstein, The Sunlit Night
ADVICE COLUMN RETURNS. HAPPY SUMMER!
there's this person who has just come into my life. he loves me but i don't think i love him because i can't exist with him in public without wanting to run away in embarrassment. when people show me love and affection, it makes me nauseous. i wish he was a poc like me because it hurts having to painstakingly explain the experiences which are so ingrained for me and novel to him. i want to be single for a while, not tied down to anybody, but i want people to hold me. i wish he was different. i wish i could love him back.
can you give me clarity? can you hold my hand?
Hi, I would like to thank you for the lovely email you sent. Never did I know being addressed as Miss Aandhi would make me feel so nice. While I will reply to your email when I will, I have featured this question here, because well, why not, right?
I think you should step back; that is my solution for all things. Now, don’t do it the way I am used to doing it, do not cut everything off. Step back and see what you have been adding to your life. Assess if it is something that is bringing you joy at the moment. Do not think about what will happen in the future with the said thing, think about right now and maybe three days later.
Do you feel nice when you are held by him? Is it nice in private only? Is it nice at all? Why stop at nice? Ask yourself these questions. Sometimes, going with the flow is not the solution, because you will end up washed ashore on a land where you know nobody, and you have nothing of your own.
As for the poc crisis that you have had, I understand, and all I can say is, sometimes you have to carry the thing with you, and not try to change it midway. Maybe when you reach a certain milestone with this person, you will be able to discuss it more freely. But then again, remember that you don’t owe anyone anything, and if they are not willing to learn, they are not the right fit in your life whatsoever.
My ultimate point is, you still have a lot of time. I am assuming you are around my age, or younger than me, because I too went through the whole not wanting to be tied down to somebody phase. Makes me think about how I handled it (spoiler, it wasn’t well). I think you are not afraid of being loved and cared for, it is just that you want more surety first. Nothing wrong with that.
Take your alone time. Let your friends and films take up your time. Work on your Best Movie Ever script, or at least daydream about it.
You will have so many things coming up soon, and one day you will fall on your bed tired from your studies and job and the running around you had to do all day and you will wish, “oh, how nice it would have been if there was someone next to me right now,” and then… you will fall asleep! Because you were tired, remember? My point is, the weird ice block of restrain will thaw one day, and then you will allow people in, and you will feel better about it, all of it - the heart and the heartbreak.
If you too have anything you would like my advice on, or just want to tell me something, you can reach out to me on twotl1303@gmail.com
Here is a list of things for you to take home with you and think about. Let me know what you come up with. How will you do that? You will find a way.
Dear Readers,
Thank you for reading my words, and being so kind, and being here. I promise to return more frequently, and I hope we both know that I will break that promise every once in a while.
Paint your nails!
Love,
Heera
i would like to walk with you, to sit with you, to have coffee with you, to do absolutely anything with you and hear you talk. i can't describe how beautiful this is !!! how amazing you are !!! your writing is always a deep comfort to me, thank you for sharing it <3 thank you for writing <3
Your advice at the end particularly moved me, love is embarrassing and terrible, I find comedy and laughter are good first aid,you are a poet as always!