Leap Day

Since today comes once every few years, what better way to look back to four year ago? Since I didn't have a blog then, I don't remember what I was doing on 28th February, 2016, but I can remember the period. I was at home in Thane, having finished my course the previous December and applying to PhD programmes. I remember the BJP government had declared war on the left by slapping sedition charges on JNU students earlier that month. I was in Delhi when that happened and marched with the students of JNU, demanding the charges be revoked. The atmosphere was electric and I was so moved that I was in quarter of  my mind to ditch my plan of going abroad for my PhD and apply to JNU. However, my enthusiasm started to wane after I returned to Mumbai and after a few weeks I had abandoned my plan.
That was an agonizing long summer. The demons in my head had started to sway but had broken into a dance. That would come in the monsoons, as I was recovering from second brush with dengue. But, looking back, the signs was there. Feelings of resentment towards one of my parents would suddenly bubble up. I suffered bouts of nerves before two English-language tests which were easy as could be. Since I fancied myself as a cool cucumber I was puzzled by my nervousness.
I have talked about what came later in bits and pieces on the blog. Suffice to say that my life has turned out exactly how I hoped it would four years ago. I have so much to be grateful for and I try not to take it for granted. I await  the years to the next leap day with hope and anticipation.

Attention-Seekering

Being a firm introvert, my threshold for what counts as attention-seeking behaviour is low. Perhaps one of the only social disadvantages of being an extrovert is the possibility of being accused of ASB. What one person might see as ASB, another person might find genuinely entertaining. We don't have a problem with ASB per se. We only feel peeved when we feel the person is not worthy of our attention. We then pathologize ASBas stemming from low self-esteem which fuels a need for constant validation. And there is a gender bias here. Women are likely to  be accused of ASB far more frequently than men. And men who exhibit what we see as ASB are portrayed as effeminate. 

Falling Apart

A pogrom of Muslims in India, coronavirus spreading like wildfire around the world. Many posts this year are going to be about impending doom--you have been forewarned. And, to top it all, I am struggling to deal with a colleague who maybe on the spectrum. I feel overwhelmed to be honest. The prospect of a two-month lockdown of the country is distressing as my life in England isn't designed to be lived indoors. I use my bedroom as a dormitory six days a week, spending almost 11-12 hours outside the house. Well, what will be, will be. My priority is finishing my PhD and my PhD writing will continue. 

The Next Day

As expected, I managed to get some work done today but the drip of bad news continued unabated. Sometimes I wonder if there will come a time when bad news from India won't affect me so much. I have always been a reluctant Indian. Nationalism of even the softest kind discomfits me and I would describe myself as South Asian rather than Indian any day. I have no intention of moving back to India unless I have to and on every visit home it feels less liveable. But, India is in my blood and bones whether I like it or not. I have spent too much of my life there for it not to matter. I might avoid India and Indians (family and friends excepted of course) but India will always occupy a large portion of my mental escape. And, like most occupations, it will be oppressive.

Outrage. Agitation. Resignation. Repeat

Every few weeks, the right-wing mafia that is in federal government perpetuates a fresh outrage, which leaves me shaking with outrage. I vent on Facebook, am agitated for a day or two and then get on with my life. The last time this happened was at the beginning of January, when a mob attacked JNU and the cops just looked on. This time the cops seem to be competing with the rioters over who can brutalize Muslims more. This morning, I ranted on Facebook and thought that I would get on with my day. But, someone on my FB list replied that the Muslims deserved it, and I lost my head. I spent a good hour pondering the best way to respond. I first decided to ignore, then I decided to write a snarky response with a personal attack,a dn then I decided to block him from FB and Whatsapp. Hats off to those who stick  their necks out online, especially women of colour who face the worst abuse. Between the time I wrote the snarky message and blocked the idiot, I was filled with dread about the dirty row that would follow. He would probably say something about me pontificating from abroad, etc. etc. The episode, minor as it was, and the relentless stream of bad news coming out of Delhi, was enough to throw me off my PhD writing. 

I know I will get back to work tomorrow, or at least a day after. My survival mechanism will kick in and I will find something else to to distract me or occupy me. But, I wonder what this endless cycle of outrage, agitation and resignation will have on me in the long term. Maybe what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. When fascism is vanquished, as it will undoubtedly will, either by itself or its ideological foes, it will leave behind a mental social landscape that is battered but tougher. Or at least that is my hope.

Coronavirus

The thing that scares me most about the coronavirus is not that I will catch it. I am young and in good health so I will most likely be fine if I do. I come from the tropics and I have weathered a fair number of tropical infections more formidable than the coronvirus. No, what scares me is if it spreads to the UK, the government will shut down schools and colleges. My current living situation is built on the assumption that I will have regular access to my desk at uni. My house is a 10-min cycle ride and I don't even have a table or chair in my room. Neither do I have a dining table to work on. Being quarantined in a home that feels like a dorm would be a horrible experience. 

Envy

Am I the only one who doesn't like being proven wrong about how smart he thinks someone is? And if the someone does better than you at something, meaning that she or he could be at least as smart or even smarter than you, it burns. Which is why comparing yourself with others, especially when there is no clear way of ascertaining who is better, usually ends badly. You either come away with a chip on your shoulder or smouldering with bitterness. In other words, you either feel superior or inferior. Feeling a little bit of inferior can push you to work harder, and feeling a little superior can bolster your confidence. But you seldom hit the sweetspot, often overshooting into the territory of unabashed arrogance or inferiority. But coming back to the topic of being proven wrong about someone else's intelligence. It is humbling and an indication of one's own intellectual limits. 

Mental Support

Being around someone who seems to depressed is difficult. Their presence is draining and if they disappear, one is worried. Its worse if the person unlikely to ever accept that he is depressed. I say he because men are less likely to accept that they are depressed and need help. Women internalize their mental illness, hold it close to them as they are worried it may affect those around them. Men refuse to admit they are sick and are likely to be unaware of indifferent to the disturbance their sickness is causing to those around them. Heaven forbid you mention the "D' word with reference to them!
So how does one support someone who is all of the above? I wish I could be an oasis of calm and non-judgement, serene as the spring sun. But it is difficult. One falls into advice-giving mode easily and then is miffed if that advice falls upon deaf ears. 

Bike Troubles

Last week, when my bike gave up on me, it stressed me out quite a bit. I felt overwhelmed as it happened during a stressful situation at uni. The repair journey was long and chequered, and as I found out this morning, is ongoing. But, my reaction this time was quite different. As I walked to uni, I felt upbeat. The snag with my bike seemed like it would be simple to sort out with the right tools. 

Turns out it won't be simple to sort out and I will have to take it to the repair shop. Yes, an annoying distraction when I am struggling to wrap up the most critical chapter of my PhD. But, I don't feel stressesd. Maybe it caught me on a good day, maybe I have become more Zen like. I realize that my PhD journey has been very unencumbered compared to most people's. No wife or partner or kids or ailing parents, or financial troubles, or health troubles to worry about. A troublesome bike is hardly a problem worth mentioning. Worst comes to worst, I will have to ditch it and buy a new one. That will be annoying since I don't know if I will be in Bristol or even England after this year and was hoping to make do with this one until I did. But, that's not the end of the world. 

Handling Bad Blood

Why are some of us  able to handle bad blood better than others? I am not talking about bad  blood from a major falling out such as a divorce or separation. I am talking about the bad blood from more minor situations, such as when you decide to push away a person who is a draining, if not toxic, presence in your life. Why is it that the immediate feeling is one of sadness, especially if  the spurned person doesn't make overtures to restore your relationship. Or, alternatively, if you are being spurned, why does it feel like the opposite person is handling it much better? One could argue that the other person may be feeling exactly the same thing. But, I do believe some people are better at moving on. Is it do with low self-esteem? Or is it to do with sensitivity--sensitive people are likely to be conflict-averse and to have trouble moving on? 

Opting out

Its been a few weeks since I swore off online dating at least until the summer, and I don't miss it at all. I have reconciled to a celibate existence bereft of romance quite well. Not that I have been very active in the romance or lust department over the past two years but at least I was hopeful for either if not both. Now, I have decided to actively avoid the search for either and feel quite at peace with my decision.

Bike Travails

This has got to be the longest and most that anyone has agonized over flat bike tire. I discovered  the problem almost a week ago and it still hasn't been been fixed. It has been a series of bad luck and stupidity on my part, compounded with a penny-wise, pound-foolish kind of laziness. I went against my better sense to try to save effort and will end up spending multiples of the effort I tried to avoid. First it thought it was a minor problem with my tire valve which could be fixed easily, then I thought Sod it and I would change the inner tube only to find out I had brought the wrong kind. The right kind wasn't available in the store, which set me back by another day. All of this compounded by the fact that I don't have a cycle repair shop close by. I was also dreading having to ask the repair guy to fix my tire because the last time I did so I was met with sneering looks. What kind of a man can't even fix a cycle puncture? This one. Anyway, tomorrow is the day I will hopefully put my bicycle troubles behind me.

Self-Care

Judging when to prioritize self-care over care of others is a difficult decision. I was recently faced with such a situation and I made the choice to step back. The logistics of setting boundaries have still to be sorted out, but I have made my decision. Being around someone with mental health issues who doesn't know it and is unlikely to seek help can be incredibly draining. At such times, it is perfectly reasonable to do a cold cost-benefit calculation of continued engagement with that person. I realized I was overestimating my ability to be a force for good in the situation. Self-care doesn't mean putting putting yourself first no matter what the situation. Self-care is about listening to yourself, and to figure out what is the best possible way forward for everyone involved. It is about being conscious of your own limits and taking action when the  limit is being reached.

The decision to step back wasn't easy as I have faced mental health issues in the past myself. I don't take granted for a moment all the love and support I received from family and friends. But, treading the long road back to a place of stability was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. It required not just the will to work hard but acceptance that I needed help and some things would have to wait no matter what the costs to my dignity. Ultimately, everyone must take responsibility for their own happiness. 

St. Valentine's Day

Since I didn't grow up here, I am not familiar with British traditions of Valentine's day. For me, it is just a day when couples are  supposed to celebrate to show their love and singles are supposed to also celebrate but on a more modest scale to show that they are not ashamed of being single. A cynic would say everyone has a part to play in this charade. My single status is an empirical fact: I am not proud of it and neither am I ashamed of it. To be fair, part of this  rant was driven by a colleague telling me it was a little sad that I wasn't celebrating Valentine's day. But, I am perfectly capable of mourning my long-time single status of my own volition from time to time. When someone shames  or patronizes me about it, it makes me own my single status. I feel so so comfortable with it that I don't need to assert my comfort.
But, as I keep saying, the times are changing. Notions of what it means to be settled in life will also change and single people will stop being objects of pity.

Sleeping on It

Today, I had a lousy evening thanks to my bike, which has been giving me trouble for a few days. I don't know what it is about bike troubles that unsettles me so much. Maybe it is because I come from a country where the moment something goes wrong with anything you take it to a repair shop. You don't even consider trying to fix it by yourself. Over the past two years, I have learned so much about bikes, but the more I have learnt, the more my interest in fixing my own bike has fallen. For instance, a few days ago, I learnt there are two types of bike valves and today I learnt that I had bought the wrong one.
Buying a new tube, doing my weekend shopping tomorrow, all while trying to keep up my PhD writing momentum is feeling like a logistical impossibility today. Wrack my brains as I might, I can't seem to figure out an effective and easy solution. So, I am going to do the only thing that I can think of. Sleep on the problem and see if I find a solution tomorrow. Not that this is such a difficult problem. It is only that all the possible solutions that I can think of today make me cringe. 

Projection

When one is going through a rough patch, it is easy to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. Stuff that one would have brushed off in better times drives one mad. The  rage one feels at life seems to to be fueled by the provocateur. The provocateur seems to be blissfully unaware of the  turmoil he  is causing, which makes the situation even more  infuriating. It is the simplest thing in the world to project one's state of mind on to the world. But, just being aware when one is doing that is powerful. It doesn't  make the anger completely disappear, but at least one stops beating oneself up for being angry.

Being Too Nice

Today, I was talking to a friend from back home who is being pestered by a guy who is interested in her. She said she had no interested in even being friends with him but he was being persistent. What immediately struck me is the difference in social norms between India and the West. Suck kind of behaviour would definitely be frowned upon here for being super-keen if not outright harassment. But this is not a post about cultural differences. I lectured my friend about how she had to put her well-being first and block the guy if he refused to take the hint. That would be difficult to her, she said, because she was too nice. I almost mansplained her the social conditioning that pushes women to be nice no matter how badly they are treated, but thought the better of it at the last moment. Instead, I gave her a spiel about respect being the cornerstone of any relationship and if he didn't respect her wishes to be left alone, he had no respect for her.
But, later in the evening, it struck me how I would struggle to implement my own advice. Just the other day, I was kicking myself for being too nice to a part-time colleague who is not entitled to a dedicated spot in the PhD room but has made herself at home. I could never ghost anyone on dating apps, and would rather make up a lie to break off contact than disappear. I am not saying I am "too nice" by any means, I am just saying that the fear of avoiding unpleasantness or confrontation often leads me to be nice and later regret it. Sometimes I feel that I have been taken advantage of. But, I don't see myself as a hypocrite for giving my friend advice I would struggle to follow. Yes, it wasier to give advice than to practice what we preach. Which is why we need friends to push us to go against our nature when it will benefit us. 

Love and Politics

For the few weeks that I was on dating apps this year, my profile said I was Tory-phobic, which was a little redundant since I had marked 'Left' for political leaning in my bio. Maybe because I was dejected by the recent Tory election win and the exploits of India's far-right government. Maybe it was a form of virtue  and intellect signalling. Chances are it was a bit of  both.
Today, I read an article from an author I admire about love across political lines. To be honest, that wasn't all the article was about but that was the only part of the article I managed to comprehend. IN the article, she narrated a conversation between her and a young woman where she asked her if rejecting someone for the political views wasn't  like rejecting someone on the basis of their caste.
Well, no. Firstly, you don't choose your caste, like you do your political views, as much as they are shaped by your milieu. Yes, most people on dating apps in India are likely to be upper-caste, since if you are on a dating app in India, you are urban and and middle-class at least.
But, this post isn't an argument about how different political leaning and caste are as conceptual categories. There was a time when I thought that most people on the left were nice people, or at least, you couldn't be a nice person unless you weren't at least left-leaning. I don't  believe that any more. Some of my close friends are firmly in the political centre or even skew a bit to the right. I have spent enough time in the West to know that just because someone says they are left-wing doesn't mean they are class-blind, or colour-blind or accent-deaf. Just like it is perfectly possible to love yoga while at the same time viewing South Asians with undisguised distaste. But, all this wisdom hasn't dented my preference for a romantic partner of similar left-wing intersectional feminist political views. It has just made me feel like finding a romantic partner or making a new close friend is  bloody difficult. Alignment of political views is a necessary but by no means a sufficient condition. 

The PhD Experience

When I started my PhD, I was inundated with stories from former and current PhDs about what a grueling and nerve-wrecking experience it is. The contrarian that I am, I dismissed the stories as self-important twaddle from people who were trying to feel special. I was determined to not only enjoy but glide through my PhD. After all, I hadn't lost any sleep over my master's research paper, unlike many of my classmates.
Now that I am in my final year of my PhD, it is time to acknowledge that I was wrong. The PhD is grueling, potentially nerve-wrecking  and unique experience. I was determined to treat it as a 9 to 6 job but its not. What makes it special? Firstly, it is an isolating experience with few clear milestones. It is a continual struggle to keep one spirit's up and fight impostor's syndrome, sometimes on a daily basis. A PhD dissertation is like a book, but doing a PhD is much more difficult. Most people who write non-fiction books have a reasonably clear idea what they want to write a book and have established expertise in the subject, not to mention a decent-sized publishing record. In a PhD, one lacks the training, the confidence, the subject expertise. The only thing one doesn't lack is the ambition to do a stonking PhD. So, yes, doing a PhD is a unique experience and one has to endure unique pressures. 

Disrespect from your own

One of my PhD colleagues came to the office livid yesterday because one of his students had demanded that he repeat an explanation for the fourth time because the student's tution fees paid his salary. The student in question was BME as is my colleague, who was sure that the student wouldn't have dared to be so rude to a white British lecturer. I agreed with him, and my mind went back to two incidents--both relatively minor but one more unsavoury than the other. One was when the resident paedophile of the Buckingham palace was visiting our university to inaugurate a building. A few security guards were checking ids and bags at the entrance. I dutifully showed my ID but was asked to open my bag by a BME security guard. I complied, but then I saw another security guard wave in some white students without checking their bags. It was a relatively minor incident and didn't even register immediately. But a wave of anger came over me when I later realized what had happened. Its true that BME people are often the most zealous policers of BME bodies--that is one of the reasons colonialism was as destructive as it was. Secondly, it is  not easy to put yourself in the shoes of someone who has experienced abuse, so its best not to judge them for over-reacting, which we are wont to do especially if there was no physical violence involved.
The second incident was more annoying than offensive. The room that I was supposed to teach a class in was occupied at the appointed hour, so I peeped in and politely asked them to leave. I waited for a few minutes and when I peeped in again they had made no moves towards wrapping up. They were a group of brown girls, some of them in hijab. I told them to leave with some fairness and started loading my slides. They asked if they could stay while I taught my class, promising to be quiet. I declined and they asked me again at which point I was quite annoyed. First, they had ignored me when I had told them I had a class in that room. Then they were trying to play cute, no doubt thinking since I was brown they could get away with playing cute with me. They would never had tried that with a white British lecturer.  

Foot in Mouth

Over  the past one week, there have been two occasions I put my foot in my mouth, and with the same person. Speak first, think later is a bad strategy and can cause hurt. I have written before on how its best not use humour as an antidote for anger or frustration unless the target of the joke is oneself. And how, if one is displeased with someone, one should either suck it up or tell them about it, not get back at them indirectly through mean jokes. But, the person I goofed up with is someone I am quite fond off, so I don't know what  was the dynamic playing out there. Boredom, I suppose? There was a time in my life I was quite unhappy with myself, which reflected in my  jokes. And, when the jokes caused offence, I hated myself even more. I am not going to go so far as to stay every mean joke comes from a bad place in oneself. Sometimes, one just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind and regrets it immediately. But being at peace with oneself definitely reduces the chances of cracking mean jokes. 

PhD Journey

After fighting it for a weeks I have reconciled with the possibility that my PhD journey will take longer than I anticipated. So, I may realize that I am a much slower writer than I thought and my PhD won't be ready in time for the next job season. And, that won't be the end of the world. This doesn't mean I plan to slack off or take it easy. I couldn't even if I wanted to because I don't have much of a life outside my PhD. But, neither am I going to work myself ragged trying to finish my PhD on the old timeline. Because the little time that I will  save doing that won't be worth the cost to my well-being. I have discovered that I can work for about 5 hours a day, six days a week on a sustainable basis and I plan to stick to that. Yes, I acknowledge am in an extremely privileged position as I don't have money worries and neither do I have a hard deadline to finish. So, I am going to use that privilege without guilt. 

OCD

The closest thing I have to an OCD is fearing that I have left the stove on after I have left home. It hits me about once every few weeks without any rhyme or reason. This morning was one of the mornings and I had visions of a fire in the kitchen of my shared house. I was in quarter of a mind to go home and check, or at least message one of my housemates. But I felt that OCD is a slippery slope. Once you indulge it, it can get out of control fast. It is impossible to doublecheck every single action of yours that could cause disaster, so anxiety must be fought and not given in to.

Labour Party Hustings

I attended te Labour Party Hustings in Bristol today. From past experience, I have come not to expect a diverse crowd at Labour gatherings, but every event falls short of my ever-falling expectations. I was expecting an overwhelmingly white and middle-class crowd, but what I was not expecting was so few youngsters.  I was among people who don't look or talk like me and neither were they the same age as me. Needless to say, they were applauding at all the wrong moments. I suppose today's gathering was not a representative sample of the Labour Party but that is part of the problem. The There should have been active efforts to make sure younger and more diverse members got spots to attend the debate, rather than just the "engaged membership". Today's conference could have been a Tory Party conference if there had been more men in suits. Neither did I see old working class union hands,  or any rabble-rousers or Momentum types. Of course, it is possible many youngsters gave this debate a miss because they don't care about debates, which would be an encouraging sign. That they see it as a pointless pantomime which should not only be avoided, but opposed because it emphasizes form over substance. The aim should be to change the political culture from debates that are little more than entertainment to more substantive discussion. But, public performances do give you an insight into a leader's personality and I came away from it more confident in my choice.