Indecision

I have never seen myself as someone who keeps changing their mind, but maybe the uncertain times we live in are getting to me. In the space of two days, I have jogged between sharing a two-bed house with a friend to moving into a shared house with strangers before settling on looking for a three-bed house with two friends. The decision I have settled upon is a gut decision, and might not be the most pragmatic but it is the one I feel some enthusiasm for. I have already identified potential problems with the plan and maybe my enthusiasm will die over the next couple of days. But, at least I can say I tried my best to improve my housing situation instead of simply moaning about it and blaming later-day capitalism.

Renting Diary

I had my first viewing in my house hunt today. Having girded myself for a long and painful process, I was pleasantly surprised when I got a lead on the first day of my search. I didn't fall in love with the house and neither did I dislike it. It had its pros and cons. For all my complaints against it, my current house has some tangible advantages, namely location and shop vicinity and a bright bedroom of decent proportions. But, I have realised for some time now that the disadvantages have been out weighing the advantages for some time now, and it is time to leave. I am aware that I will have to adjust to a new housing system. My move may not be so much a change of scenes as a change of peeves. And sometimes that is all you need.

Cold Snap

I had forgotten how unpleasant it can be cycling to uni in the cold. That it was my first time up the slope since returning from India made it worse. My lungs were gasping for air and my thighs were burning even before I was halfway up. By sheer grit, I made it to the top of the hill, but I had already started dreading the next day's commute. Given that it is sniffles season, I was also wary of picking up a cold. All in all, not a great reacquaintance with my daily commute. I remember earlier this year when a middle-aged man passed me on his bike and exclaimed with a grimace, "It doesn't get easier, does it?" and that is so true! I have been cycling up that route for a year and a half and it still feels as difficult as it did on the first day. Granted, I don't have a great bike, but surely my stamina should have improved over time? Not a great advertisement for training progress. 

Clocks Go Back and I Move Forward on My House Search

The clocks went back last midnight and I commemorated the occasion by doing a Cozy Yoga with Adrienne session this evening, just as I had last year. I suppose this is my way of marking the start of winter. This is the only yoga session that feels wrong if done in any other season than winter. And,  winter is as much about the shorter days as about the cold. I don't mind the shorter days as much as most people because I enjoy darkness. Doing yoga in the darkness, drinking tea in the darkness or just listening to Spotify or a podcast are uniquely tranquil experiences. I associate winter with reflection and restoration and since I am an active person, I seldom feel the winter blues. Living according to the season is a nice experience and makes one feel harmonious with nature, even as climate change upends the natural order.
I also took the first step in my house search today. I barely know anyone who is happy with their housing situation and realize that the search is likely to be a stressful and agonizing experience. All I can try to do is keep in good humour and not let the search take over my life. I will have to draw on all my founts of positivity and resourcefulness as I negotiate the cycle of hope and despair. 

Wisdom and Humility

We live in an age of great tumult, and it pays to not cling to opinions too tightly, or at least be open to opposing ones. I had a discussion with a friend about feminism yesterday, and a few months ago, I would have dismissed her views as out-dated and anti-feminist. Yesterday, I was more prepared to listen to her views, and while we disagreed on most points, there were a few points of agreement that I would have missed had I been my previous dogmatic self. These past few months, I have been much more skeptical of my own intellectual abilities, and for someone that is prone to overconfidence, that is a good thing. "I feel this way, but what do I know?" is a healthy attitude to have. Dismissing people or their opinion's as inane is easy, but not constructive. Maybe they are inane but its not really your business unless you plan on marrying them or developing deep friendships with them. It is better to let them have their say and suspend  judgement because who knows, they might sway you.

Back in Bristol

After a long and tiring but uneventful journey, I arrived in Bristol around noon today. The India chapter ended without incident. My fear of contracting dengue, which was a constant source of anxiety for me, did not materialize, and I reached Bristol hale but tired. I spent the afternoon unpacking and buying groceries and did some yoga in the evening. A productive and thoroughly satisfying day, despite the fatigue one would expect after a long journey. Since leaving Bombay, I haven't been in anyone's company and it feels really good. India can leave me gasping for space, and it didn't help that it was a full house on this trip.
Here in Bristol, autumn is upon us and there is a nip in the air. Quite a refreshing change from hot and sultry Mumbai. I felt  quite relaxed today even though I fortified myself with a large capacuinno to keep from falling asleep. I was waiting for my energy levels to crash towards the evening but that hasn't happened yet. Maybe the caffeine is still coursing through my veins. For someone who barely slept the previous night, I feel more energetic than I did, on average, in Mumbai. Maybe I'm just feeling the feel-good vibes because of the change of scene, but it does feel good to be back. The next 12 months are going to be challenging, but I feel like I am facing challenges I was meant to be facing, if that makes some sense. Challenges which I feel I am equipped to face. Challenges that provoke me to work harder not feel disillusioned and stuck in a place I don't want to be in. 

Airport Blog

Airport blogs are a little time honoured tradition for me, and this one might not even make it to the blog, because it is going to be a rant. I feel exhausted, I feel like India is letting me leave after squeezing every drop of energy from me. Nothing is easy here. Just from my day today—it took ages to close a bank account, it took ages to get to the airport. I had booked a flight during earthly hours so that my parents wouldn’t have to stay up late or wake up in the middle of the night to drop me off to the airport. But, I know think that would have been the better option as they wouldn’t have to spend 4 hours in the car. I am feeling the collective exhaustion of both trips this year, which tally up to almost 5 months in India. It didn’t help that my sister and her family, bless her, were staying with my parents during my second visit. I can write endless reams analysing why it is so difficult for me to share personal space. Or I can accept that it is and try to make myself as comfortable as I can while trying not to step on any toes. I am going to take it easy for the next few days as I fear that if I keep pushing myself I will fall sick. The next 12 months are going to be intense, so it is best to pace myself. I feel like my traditional supports have not been as useful on this trip. And as I speak, a group of noisy girls just sat down beside me. I really feel like India is fucking with me now. But what do I do?

Last Night in Mumbai

My sister was watching me pack this evening and she was mighty amused that I was carrying a pack of Dove soap cakes. My defense was that toiletries are much cheaper in India than the UK. And, although this a bad example to make my point that I am no more a recent expat who packs so much stuff that he would be able to survive on the moon, that is indeed the case. I am carrying back less stuff than I was on previous occasions. A part of the reason is that I am trying to live a more minimalist lifestyle to reduce my ecological footprint. Also, one never carries much stuff when one is going home, gifts excepted. The idea of home is a fluid concept for me, but England has started to feel more and more like a home to me.
On my last trip to India, I told my parents that I like it in the UK (as messy as it is at the moment) and that I would try to stay  on there after my PhD. They had probably gleaned that themselves, as it wasn't a surprise to them. The next year and quarter is going to be challenging for sure. But, whatever challenges come my way, adjusting to life in an alien land isn't going to be one of them. I am still a foreigner in England and will be for the forseeable future even if I manage to stay on, but England is not an alien country any more.

Train Rage

I keep telling myself that I will stop travelling by Mumbai local trains, and I keep going back. It is the fastest and cheapest way to get around even though travelling on it is a hellish experience. Today, I had an unpleasant experience on it, which made me reconsider my loyalties to it. I was standing in a crowded local this morning, minding my own business, when a man a few feet away from me accused me of hogging space. He claimed he had been watching me since a few stations back, saying that I hadn't moved an inch and that I was squashing the person next to me. I told him to mind his own business and that the person next to me could speak for himself. A testy exchange followed, but didn't last long. I was irritated but not raging. A few minutes later he piped up again, which made me mad. He spoke in Marathi, hoping to establish that I was an outsider but I replied rudely in Marathi. He then did the annoying thing that is unique to India where a person doesn't talk to you but about you to the people around him, hoping to win bystanders over to his side. I clearly looked out of place among the working class commuters of the second-class compartment so I didn't even try to do the same. A few minutes later someone else started arguing with me for not giving him enough room and I suddenly felt threatened. Maybe this is me reading too much into it, and maybe I was really being a dick. But I felt a clear vibe of class resentment, as though I was intruding into their class space and they were making me feel unwelcome. Some people move across class boundaries with ease, and some don't, attracting resentment. As crass as it  sounds, someone of my class is not accustomed to being talked to in that way by working class folk.

Beliefs and Perceived Beliefs

What you believe and what you think you believe (or should believe) are sometimes very different things. I had a session with my therapist today, and my first reaction was that it was not very useful. It took me a few hours to realize that the session had helped me acknowledge an aspect of my personality that I had always tried to deny because it clashed with my view of myself. Or rather, my view of what I should be like because that was the path of virtue. The acknowledgement is by no means earth-shattering, and it may not result in a radical change in behaviour but it still feels liberating. It will result in a more healthy attitude towards my behaviour and that is something.

One Year Older

From today, I cannot confidently put myself in the early-thirties category. I turn 34 today and because birthdays are not a big deal to me, this will be a short post. The year between birthdays 32 and 33 was one of tremendous personal growth and change. I overcame the biggest obstacle to my mental well being a few weeks after my 32nd birthday and spent the following year growing into my new self. It was intense and daunting at times, but I managed pretty well. Comparatively, the last 12 months weren't as momentous. I say that without any trace of disappointment--not every year can or should be a watershed year. One doesn't have the emotional resources for it.
The standout feature of the year was that I spent five months of it in India for my research. That' s a long time to be away from one's base and it was challenging, especially given my uneasy relationship with my country of birth. But, now is not the time to dissect that part of my life, as important as it is. The next 12 months are possibly going to be most challenging of my professional life. It is the culmination of a journey I began when I left behind a promising career in financial journalism with little thought of what I would do after my Master's degree. When I write my next birthday blog, I will have submitted my PhD and be awaiting my defense. If all goes according to plan, I might even have a job in the field and country of my choice.

Laptop Back

I was separated from my laptop for three days because it had to be repaired, and it was not an easy separation. I have written before about how I am calmer and nicer person when I have access to my  two anchors--yoga and blogging. It wasn't that I didn't have access to a computer for three days, but it just seemed like a chore to write it down on another PC and transfer it to this one. Also, it is not possible in life to have access to your anchors. Sometimes, you have to do without and the idea that  you can't do without your anchors is not healthy. Sometimes, circumstances put your anchors out of reach, and life is more difficult, but more often than not, you don't go to pieces. You learn the value of key elements of your routine when they are not available to you. Maybe blogging makes me wiser and a better writer, or maybe it makes me even more of a self-indulgent sanctimonious prick. Whatever it is, it has become an integral part of my life. A way of talking for a person who doesn't like talking to most people. 

Comeuppance

Yesterday, it struck me how I have abandoned any hope of opposing the right-wing wave from my armchair by appealing to their sense of justice. As cynical as it sounds, I believe that appealing to people's better nature is futile because they don't have one. Rather, the only way for the right-wing surge to end is in the flames of war and economic destruction. So, strong is the fascist movement that those of us on the left are forced to speak its language and judge its performance with respect to its promises. There is no room to question the promises themselves. The cratering of the economy, the rising intolerance towards not just minorities but also liberal values that many of the urban supporters of the fascist government in India hold dear. But, there is no joy in being proved right when the world is in flames. I would pray that my prediction of a war with our neighbour or a full-blown recession doesn't come true. 

Friends With Opposing Political Views

I just read an article about being friends with someone who holds opposing political views. It is a good article and one of the points it makes is political views are just one aspect of a person. We may see political views as representations of a moral compass but I have met enough nice people on the right (although not right-wing) and unpleasant people on the left to place a lot of faith in that belief. Neither do people's views on different subjects cleave neatly into the left or right categories. I would like to think that most of my friends are kind people with socially liberal values, even if they don't support the same progressive causes that I do. Also, at the risk of sounding patronizing, I am more prepared to tolerate right-leaning or centre-right opinions from people who are not associated with the social sciences professionally. If you are immersed in a social sciences profession such as media, law or academia and still lean right, we are unlikely to be fast friends, for what that is worth. However, I do have a tolerance for people who are patient and open to other viewpoints. Also  absolved are old friendships which were formed before my political awareness and have stood the test of time. I believe political views are emotional rather than rational in nature and it is common for people (including myself) to hold contradictory views as well as absolve themselves from the standards that they hold other people to. In summary, if interacting with someone makes me angry most of the time, I don't. Life is too short.

Thinking With Your Head or Heart

I was talking to a friend today who needed some advice on a matter of the heart. Why she chose to talk to me, whose record on the subject is short and unimpressive, is anybody's guess. But, it got me thinking about how much or little we learn from our past mistakes in these matters. I am not a big fan of the head-heart dichotomy but is it possible to learn to use your head more in so-called matters of the heart? I think so, for no other reason than we know ourselves better and we also learn the rules of the game. I don't mind to sound cynical but it is a game to some extent, and there are rules, especially around the distance and space that one accords to one's interest, especially in the early days. Those of us for whom this correct combo of interest and detachment doesn't come naturally have to learn it the hard way.
When I say learn about ourselves, I mean which attractions to pursue wholeheartedly, which to pursue to a limited extent and which to not pursue at all. Not all attractions have to be pursued, especially those that we know could be damaging for us.

Immigration Appeals Via the Guardian

I just read a news article about a leading child psychiatrist who is considering emigrating to Australia because his widowed mother is being denied a visa to remain in the UK. Every week, there is at least one such story in the Guardian about baffling decisions by the Home Office. I wouldn't be surrised if there is a dedicated Home Office employee who tracks the Guardian and flags stories that require action to save face. The stories often result in a review of the original decision, which is why it seems to be an effective route to appeal against Home Office decisions. The danger, of course, is it separates the exemplary immigrants from the ordinary immigrants. To get the Guardian to write about you, either you need to have exemplary qualifications(read Oxbridge orequivalent), or have a proven record of service to the UK. Like putting your life at risk by being an interpreter for UK troops in Afghanistan, or being promised by prosecutors that you can remain if you testify for them in a case, only for them to renege later. Having being a newsman myself, I know that more prosaic rejections to more ordinary applicants are unlikely to make the cut. It just shows you that there are so many levels even among the ranks of the disadvantaged. I suppose I fall somewhere in the middle in this hierarchy of the dispossessed. I am university-educated but not at a Russel Group university and neither do I have young children or old parents who depend on me for their leave to remain in the UK. 

Getaways

I can remember two occasions when I went on a short holiday by myself and couldn't wait to get back. The first time was after finishing a journalism course in Chennai. We had a few weeks to ourselves before graduation and the start of our working lives, and a mysterious restlessness gripped me. I had the company of close friends, but that didn't stop me from taking off. I was 22, and the idea of getting on the road with no clear destination still seemed romantic. Little did I realize that most parts of India are not well-suited for single travelers. Indians vacation in groups and the sight of a solitary traveler evokes puzzlement. Traveling on the cheap is not really a concept here because it involves rubbing shoulders with people from a far lower station in life. A warm and extroverted person might still have enjoyed the novelty of such a experience, but for me, it just brought up the class (and caste) guilt that has been a perennial feature of my life for  years.
The second time was later that same year when the job I was so looking forward to after journalism school turned out to be a dead-end. I lied to my boss that I had caught a stomach bug, which was convenient since it was a long weekend. My boss saw through my lies, but when she called me to beg me to come in because too many people had called in sick, I was already at my destination. I felt no compunctions about letting her down because she treated us like school kids. I had a decent enough time on this occasion because it was a change from my rotten circumstances at the time.
Since then, all my holidays have been trips with friends or family or to visit friends or family. I have realized that I don't enjoy travelling for the sake of it. I crave solitude sometimes but I have discovered that one need not travel to find it. And, that the most solitary act in the world is writing.

The Bet

Today, I read a short story that I had last read as a child. It's called The Bet and its by Anton Chekov. Even though I must have been just 13 or 14 when I read it, I remember being moved by the story. There was an element of philosophizing in it which I couldn't fathom at that age. When I came across it today, I read it with great anticipation. Only to find it underwhelming. The philosophical bit was a rejection of worldly goods and worldly achievements.
I fell story-telling is an art that has evolved over the centuries and the old greats were simply not that good at it. Time is an important element of narrative. It is what light is to paintings. A short story, being of a shorter length, has a compressed arc of time, which is what many people struggle to get right. Telling a story without fully developed characters, bringing them to life is far fewer words than a novel, is quite difficult. Compressing the arc of time without attenuating the narrative is a challenge. In my opinion, the Americans are much better at short-story writing than British authors. But, like everything else, the Americans have turned short story-writing into a cottage industry. A lot of the short stories read formulaic and feel like they have been polished  so much that they have lost some of their authenticity.

OTS

OTS stands for over-training syndrome, and is a recently discovered health condition that affects ultra-endurance athletes. I am fitter than average but far from any kind of athlete, but I have been thinking about over-training a lot these past few days. I have started a new high-intensity training routine since I arrived in India, and it is kick-ass. But, I am worried that I am over-doing it. Within my first week, I got my usual over-training symptom, which is a scratchy throat. I still pushed on knowing there was a 80% chance I would come down with a cold and I did. I know my body well enough to know when I am pushing it past my limits and that I will repent it. I have written about how anxious people are likely to exercise in  anxious ways. Whenever I am going through a stressful period, I try to distract myself with exercise. Sometimes it is easier to listen to my body than at other times. So, I am trying not to be hard on myself for not being easy on myself. That does sounds like a word salad but I do think that pushing yourself too hard to be kind to yourself is being unkind to yourself. Maybe sometimes it is just healthier to accept that there will be times when you will be unkind to yourself and not aspire towards a saint's level of self-kindness.

Homeless

I got a text today from my landlord saying I couldn't stay in my room after November and even if I wanted the room in November I would have to pay 20% more rent. At least, this eviction notice was an improvement over the last one, which was served as part of a tirade from a crazy landlord at midnight. My entanglement with that landlord was a cause of stress for months and contributed to my breakdown.
This time, the writing had been on the wall for months. My landlord's idiosyncracies and territorial instincts had steadily morphed into barely disguised hostility. Small privileges and conveniences had been taken away one by one, and the rules tightened to such an extent that the house had started to feel like a military camp. I had made up my mind that I would look for a new place as soon as I returned from India, and today's development only adds to the urgency.
Yes, the rental market looks pretty tight at the moment. Yes, I would prefer to move in with someone I know and can stand, and if we are also friends, that would be excellent. But, it doesn't look like that will happen. So, it looks like I am on my own again and will have to start afresh. It feels liberating as well as intimidating. Yes, I will have no company to leaven the tribulation that is a house hunt, but neither will I have to negotiate with or accommodate the needs and wishes of other people. If I make a bad choice, I can move out without upsetting any friendships. Over the past few years, I have been through too much to be excessively put out by  my  housing situation. Yes, a home is an abode and I  will do my best to find one that ticks all the boxes. But, my  priority over the next 12 months is finishing my PhD, and everything else comes second. 

Bright and Shrewd

Yesterday, I interviewed someone who had managed to avoid being entangled in the biggest scam in India's history. Of course, I only had his account to go by but it struck me that to keep out of trouble in India, especially if you work in the upper echelons of business or government, it is not enough to be honest. One must also be shrewd enough to avoid being entangled in the capers of dishonest people. Which is why I don't think I would ever survive in India. I consider myself to be of above-average intelligence, but below-average cunning by Indian standards, at least. (In the UK, I feel street-smart). But, in India, every business interaction feels like a bit of a contest. Everyone is trying to size up the opposite person, trying to calculate what to say, how much  to say. Every communication feel strategic, which is why I feel a little out of my depth. 

Swearing

This evening, my mother asked me if my friends and I swore a lot when I was in my teens and, specifically, we swore when we are in front of girls. I was a little taken aback by the question, but I don't think I have the answer she wanted. Her objection to swearing is that most swear-words are demeaning to women. I said something like we all say and do sexist things because we live in a sexist society, which she wasn't very convinced about. I guess my broader point is we all draw the limits for ourselves and it unfair to impose our limits on others (obviously, sexual harassment and assault are well beyond any sane person's limits). But, we are all hypocrites, but in myriad ways.
I don't want to turn this blog into one on the power of discourse. But, I think this issue is similar to  the one about risque song lyrics that objectify women. When does the fight against objectification turn into moral policing? Does the fight for women's liberation encompass the right of women to "shackle" themselves? Basically, how do we avoid  turning into sanctimonious pricks? I don't think there are any easy answers. The important thing is to not hoist your own answers on other people.