Crank

Am I a crank to talk about how tributes to a recently deceased actor are a blatant reminder of the extent of nepotism in Bollywood? What set me off was a tweet from the wife of a famous Bollywood director that her mother had written two movies featuring the deceased actor. I had no clue the wife came from a Bollywood family. She now anchors a well-known Bollywood talk show where she interviews people possibly hoping to work with her husband.
We all look to the world to confirm our opinions. I find Bollywood, and India in general, hierarchy-obsessed, caste-ridden and horribly nepotistic,  so obviously I view news from India through this lens. A little similar to how conspiracy  theorists see conspiracy theories everywhere. But, such an attitude is unhealthy because all seeing the worst in everyone or everything is emotionally draining. It is not easy, but one must learn to suspend judgement on things that are not worth one's time to judge. 

Selflessness

Last evening, I was debating with a close friend  how selfless she is. I was trying to convince her she was much more selfless than me and she was disagreeing, protesting that she wasn't a pushover. I was virtuously explaining to her that being selfless doesn't make one  a doormat. She wasn't convinced and we were at an impasse so we left it at that and called it a day.  

This morning, it occurred to me that selfless people don't see themselves as selfless. Their selfless behavior comes naturally to them. The only people who see themselves as selfless are likely to be quite selfish in reality. One always makes judgement with reference to something or someone else. My friend is more selfless than me. On the other hand, people who see themselves as selfless are likely to find those around them selfish. I don't know if I am making sense or tying myself up in knots. The bottomline is nice people don't spend time thinking how nice they are. And, people who do are likely to be not so nice.

Important Life Choices

Some wise-ish person said the two most important decisions in your life are choice of career and choice of partner. This of course assumes you have the freedom to choose both, and are definitely choices that are only available to privileged folk. When it comes to career choice, I am extremely satisfied with my choice of academia. If I am not able to find a job in academia or if life circumstances intrude and I can't go down that path, it won't be due to a lack of effort. On the second important life choice, I have  spent long hours ruminating over whether I even want to a partner. I even saw my counselor during my trip to India to help figure out the answer to that question. To no avail. I still haven't figured out the answer to that question and come to the conclusion that I won't in the foreseeable future. I am not as secure and comfortable in my singlehood nor, on the other hand, so rankled by it for the answer to be a no-brainer. And neither am I at an age where I can resign myself to a life of bachelorhood. Yes, the only avenue for me to find a partner at the moment is online dating, which can sometimes feel like pulling teeth out. But just because one finds the search for a partner  unpleasant, doesn't mean one doesn't want a partner. 

Being Too Strategic

No one knows what the next few years will bring. Our whole way of life may change, but who knows what shape and form it will take? The last such cataclysmic event was World War 2 and it ushered in an era of sweeping change. The end of colonialism, the rise of the welfare state and the Cold War, Those of us who concerns ourselves with the affairs of the world can't help feel a mix of fear for our own well-being as well as intellectual curiosity.  This post is about the former.
Different people respond to uncertainty in different ways. Some people fret, some people strategize, some people are quite zen about it. To keep myself from fretting, I am trying to strategize for an unknown future. Should I delay submitting my PhD to hide from an abysmal job market and work on some papers in the meantime to garnish my CV, should I look towards post-docs in Europe as universities there are likely to be less affected? I am trying not to get carried away with strategizing and trying to focus on the present. Keeping myself  in good health and spirits an continuing to work on my Phd because it brings occupation an fulfillment. I can time when I finish my PhD because I can't switch my work on and off. So, I am just going to carry on, trying to make the best of difficult situation an rather than prepare myself based on my hypothesis for the future. Because there is no better preparation for the future than a stable and balanced present. 

There are several things wrong with me. That's not the point

These words are from a Modern Love column podcast I listened to this morning, and they stuck with me. I haven't been having a good couple of days, and the podcast was just the thing I needed to lift my spirits. It was about a woman's struggle to come to terms with being long-term single. Long-term singles either feel they don't want anyone or that there is something wrong with them. This woman was sure she wanted a romantic partner, so it was the latter for her. She also felt like a rookie in the relationship department and feared that she would wreck any potential romantic relationship due to her lack of experience. Of course, nothing of that sort happened, and when she found her now-husband things went smoothly. In another podcast, the author talked about how the dating self-help literature pushes you to be too hard on yourself. "Fix this, this and this, about yourself and your romantic life will blossom'. The author is not against self-improvement per-se but as a goal in itself not a means to an end. Changing old habits is hard enough, changing your personality is much harder. Towards the end, the author says, 'There are several things wrong with me, but that is not the point'. Those words stayed with me and made me feel much more positive about my romantic life. It is human to think that we are unique--in our strengths, weaknesses, insecurities, feelings. But, we are not as unique as we think and that's a good thing. We can learn from the mistakes and wisdom of others. 

Evening Walk

I went for an walk this evening as I was feeling lonely for the first time during the lockdown. My antidote to loneliness is solitude so I went for a walk on the downs below my house after dinner. I was hoping that there wouldn't be too many people around after sunset but there were. I realized that I should have started evening walks a few weeks ago, when the days were shorter. With the days getting longer, I will have to start from my house later and later, and closer to bedtime. There aren't many days of the year that I can go for evening walks because there are so many stars that have to align. It has to be during a dry spell as tramping about in the mud is no fun. That rules out all seasons except summer as Bristol is seldom dry during the rest of the year. And the days get long so fast after daylight savings time beings that one has to step out later and later to beat the crowd, which is difficult for an early sleeper like me. Anyway, what is done is done. I still have a week or two left, I reckon, and if enjoy walking so much I can pick it up again in August. 

Public Service

This evening, our PhD whatsapp group hummed to life as we discussed what our reps should bring up in their next meeting with the faculty. I had applied for the position of rep but for some reason, I wasn't considered. In hindsight, I am glad I didn't get it because I am not animated with a sense of public service. I am capable of fighting my own corner but not so much when I don't have a horse in the race. A part of it is self-centeredness and a part of it an antipathy towards social interactions that an campaigning role entails. During my master's in Holland, I was a member of the housing committee fighting against extortionate rents and poor service and discharged my duties with distinction. But, the housing issues genuinely made me angry and the role had a public aspect to it. Chairing public meetings, getting to play the eloquent and passionate crusader.  I am not going to pretend I didn't enjoy the limelight and the admiration, especially from the opposite sex. But, that was before I started my PhD and became even more of an introvert.
Coming back to the topic, I don't think I would make a good politician at all even though I am reasonably smart and reasonably good public speaker. I am no campaigner and coming from a family which has more than its fair share of campaigners it has been difficult to come to terms with this aspect of  my  personality. But come to terms with it I have. 

Go Fund Me Pages

Whenever I need a pick-me-up these days, I go to Go Fund Me pages set up for families of frontline workers who have died of Covid. The last one I visited was for the family of a nurse who died just days after delivering a baby girl. The fund-raising target was set at 2000 pounds and the last I checked, it had raised 185,000 pounds--nearly 100 times more. Countless small donations, many of them accompanied by touching messages. When I read them, my eyes well up with tears and my cynicism about the socio-political implications charity disappears. Some of the donors  must have been Tory voters, some of them Blairites but the differences don't matter. Love is party- and faction- agnostic.
Love and hate are powerful drivers of human action,which is something that has always confounded social scientists. We have words to describe politics of hate like fascism, but struggle to explain it or predict where it will lead. Doomsday predictions are a safe bet, possibly because people seldom remember them when they don't come true. However, we have even fewer words to describe politics of love or rather the potential of love as a political force. Which is why there is something to be said for Gandhi, for all his flaws. 

Vanity

Today, I shaved my face after more than a month, but I wasn't pleased with the results. It turns out I have put on weight and my square jaw is not so square any more. I am far from fat, but the sight of my reflection in the mirror still stung. I have never been overweight in my life but there have been years when I wasn't as lean as I am (or was before the lockdown). I might as well admit it that I am vain when it comes to my body and wouldn't cope well with being overweight. Not very woke, as it turns out.
The hardest thing to do in this situation is try to convince myself that have a few extra pounds is not such a bad thing, and I shouldn't feel less attractive. I will save that for when I am actually overweight and can't exercise or control my diet to get back into shape for whatever reason.  The easiest thing to do is ramp up my exercise routine to burn off the extra pounds. That is my natural reaction,  but knowing myself, I am likely to overdo it and make myself more susceptible to falling sick. Not a good scenario in the best of time, and definitely not a good one during a pandemic. So, I will chose the compromise option of sleeping on it and seeing how I feel tomorrow. If I feel like exercising on consecutive days, I will go for it. If I don't, I won't. Maybe it is also a good time to think about reducing my portion sizes especially since I am home all day and the weather is becoming warmer. I don't feel particularly stuffed, but maybe that's because I am used to feeling stuffed. The main thing to do is take it easy. There will be plenty of problems to deal with in the next few weeks, months and years without inventing new ones. 

Covid and Personality Changes

The other day, I often think about a story by Anton Chekhov that we read in school called 'The Bet'. It is about a bet between a millionaire and a young man that the latter will be able to remain confined in a single room for 15 years. The story describes the changes in the man through the years--the voracious reader phase, the musical instruments phase, the melancholy phases. It ends with the young man leaving the room and forfeiting his reward a few hours before his  15 years are up.  The story talks about the rationale behind the man's decision in a letter left by the man.

Since there are some similarities between being in a lockdown and the man's situation, I am wondering about my own behaviour changes and mood swings over the course of the lockdown. The only thing I have noticed so far is a lack of desire to leave the house for any reason. I thought being cooped up at home during a lockdown would be terrible, but that hasn't been the case. But, so far at least, I haven't noticed any sharp change in habits or preferences. Lets see what the coming weeks and months bring.

Audrey

As I was preparing to go to bed tonight, I suddenly remembered Audrey, the Polish-American woman whom I had shown around Mumbai seven years ago. We only met that once but her warmth and intelligence immediately put me at ease. Some personalities just well, to put it crudely, and we shared a rapport immediately.The last time I looked her up on Google about two years ago, I learnt that she was having health problems which had resulted in her losing her job and health insurance. A friend had set up a gofundme page to help with her medical expenses. I tried to contribute but the link was dead. From my blog post, I learnt that I had meant to write to her, but life got in the way.
Tonight when I typed her name in the search bar the word 'obituary' propped up as a search prompt. My heart sank as I pulled up her obituary. She had died on 17th February this year but her obituary didn't say how. I tried looking for more details all I could find was a short post by the Communist Party of Canada (Marxist-Leninist), of which she was a member.
I was chatting with a friend a few weeks ago and he said the world literally breaks his heart everyday. I feel the same.

Migrant Nightmares

This evening, I read an article in the Guardian co-written by PhD supervisor about Romanians labourers being airlifted to Germany despite the lockdown in both countries for the summer harvest. I felt a lump form in my throat as I read the story. Stories of the plight of migrant labourers abound. In India, tens of millions of migrant labourers are stranded with little to eat or drink, and continuously hounded by the police. Twitter is full of clips of weeping labourers desperate to get home. And these are people whose living conditions in ordinary circumstances would make people like us quail. These are people used to the tribulations and indignities that come with being a poor migrant in possibly one of the most hidebound and hierarchical societies in the world. So, just imagine the hell they are going through.
Since I am an immigrant now, stories of migrants strike a chord with  me. They simultaneously remind me of our inferior status as immigrants and my significant privilege compared to working class migrants. I am aware that the only reason I am not in their shoes is my good fortune to be born in a well-to-do family.
I wonder if this is the crisis that will tear the fabric of colonial pride in Britain and the caste system in India. Both bring order to their respective societies, even if it is an oppressive, exploitative order. For there to be peace,  lower  castes and immigrants must accept their subordinate position in society. Will the continue to do so after this crisis? Will migrant labourers return when the economy reopens? Or will fear and anger keep them away? 

Using Space

This evening, as I was struggling to write my PhD thesis, I shifted my chair away from desk and next to a window. The trick worked, the wheels started moving again. I even considered moving my desk to the window, but quickly dropped the idea as it faces the wall of the house next door. To get a view of the green patch opposite my house I had to be at an angle, which is possible with a chair  but not with a desk.

As I spend most of my time in my room, I am learning to use the space in ways that I never imagined before the lockdown. A few weeks before the lockdown, I turned my bed around so its head would be next to the window. Now, I find it difficult to fathom why I wasted the view out of  my window for three months. I love lying in bed in the mornings, listening to a podcast in the twilight of dawn. On Sundays, I stay in longer and watch the sun rise. In the evenings, perch myself on the sidetable, with my legs stretched out on the window ledge. The mini alcove next to my  wardrobe and in front of the boiler cupboard has become a substitute whiteboard on which I have laid out post-it notes. And,  of course, the desk  has been a game-changer, both for work and exercise. 

I am so grateful to have a pleasant living space during lockdown. There is not much more I could ask for.

Boring People

Over the weekend, I read a blogpost by a prominent renegade economist on how the biographies of top mainstream economists were almost interchangeable. They had all followed the same narrow path to success and had led 'boring' lives. Since life experience is the best teacher and they had not had diverse experiences, they were ill-suited to pontificate on issues in the social sciences, 

The post prompted vigorous discussion. Some pointed out that 'boring' was a loaded word and one couldn't make that inference just by looking at their CVs. And, the author implied that boring euals cushy, which is not the case: two prominent economists committed suicide in the past one year. 

My point was that top mainstream economists skew towards certain personality types. I had been thinking of Myers-Brigs so that may have been on my mind but my judgement is not as value-neutral. I believe the profession encourages conformism. Troublemakers and rabble-rousers are either edged out or self-select out. The room for disagreement is quite narrow.

Anyway, this is not a rant against mainstream economists. I am proud of my meandering career path and life experiences, including my struggles with mental health, and I wouldn't change anything about it. If that makes me a better social scientist, I'll take it. 

Doing The Best I Can

I haven't progressed much with my PhD over the past week or so and it is starting to get to me. I know this is all part of the 'magical' process of academic writing that will produce insights so nuanced and esoteric that not more than a handful of people would be interested in reading my thesis. Pardon my cynicism, but being stuck seems like a perpetual state of being during a PhD. But, this post is not a rant, although it started as one. Yes, I  am stuck on a chapter and I have been for a few days. I was trying to come out of my rut myself but today I reached out to my PhD supervisor for help. I am showing up everyday to work, and if I am not being productive it is not due to lack of trying. In short, I am doing the best I can and that is all I can do. Some day (soon), I will shoot out of my rut like a rocket, either self-propelled or with someone's help.

No, this post is about being able to keep myself on an even keel despite not making progress with my PhD and being quarantined at home during a global pandemic. Last week,  I got a glimpse of what it feels like to be in a poor place mentally and it wasn't pretty. Fortunately, it didn't last long but it was a timely reminder. I am not taking anything for granted now. Yes, the past few days have been unproductive, but at least I am in good health and in good spirits. When this unproductive streak ends, I will be grateful for being productive. I am doing the best I can in difficult circumstances, as are many other people, and that is all we can do.

Nail Files

I have extensive experience with nail problems, having been dogged by them for decades. So, this time, after the pus was drained, I knew better than to think that was the end of my troubles. A few days ago, memories of an ingrown finger nail that had terrorized me one summer when I was in my late teens came swimming back to me. I had also had ingrown nails on  my big toe, but that was due to no fault of mine. The ingrow fingernail was the result of my nail-chewing habit. First, came the nail infection with the pus. But as the pus was healing, I must have banged my finger somewhere and the trauma caused my nail to grow inward. It became so bad that a small chunk of my finger next to the nail had to come off. What's more, I had to go to the doctor everyday to have the dressing changed.
So, I was extra-cautious with my finger this time. I made sure I didn't wet it, and I got used to operating without using it. But as my luck would have it, it didn't heal as I would have hoped and I started to feel pressure around the nail. I filed my nail a few days ago, which helped, but when I banged my finger against a wall, it was painful. And, it brought back memories of my ingrown finger nail. After fretting about how I would cope with an ingrown nail during lockdown, late at night yesterday, I decided to take matters in my own hands and file the nail as much as I could without snipping some flesh off. I am happy to report that it seems to have worked. I don't want to celebrate too soon, but I would be unpleasantly surprised if it gives me trouble again.

Time and Space in a Lockdown

A common experience of a lockdown is losing track of which day of the week it is. I messaged my landlady about an electricity problem on a Saturday without realising it was the weekend. But, what a lockdown does is it also obscures your sense of place, especially if you are one of those people who only steps out for shop runs. I don't feel like I am living in Bristol. The outside world starts where my house ends. It blurs the distance between me and Covid-19 hotspots. It feels like Birmingham or London are in my backyard, and all these places are connected by the highly contagious virus.
In ordinary circumstances, my city and my experience of going around it act as a buffer between me and the depressing news from other parts of the world. Now, there is no buffer.
I don't know if what I am saying makes sense. 

Sleeplessness

When I was struggling  with anxiety a few years back, there were two symptoms, among others, that troubled me the most. One was light-headedness, the other was insomnia. I have never been a big sleeper, but this was something else. Sometimes, as soon as I fell asleep I would feel I was falling down and wake up with a start. Other nights, I would struggle to fall sleep or wake up in the middle of the night feeling anxious and struggle to go back to sleep. Getting caught in the cycle of sleeplessness is quite frustrating, because the more you stress about sleep, the more difficult it is to sleep well. There have been a few nights when I didn't sleep a wink. The days that followed those nights were horrible: I would feel groggy, have blurry vision and apart from feeling tired and anxious.
Till a few nights ago, I hadn't had trouble sleeping, apart from the odd bad night. I have slept quite poorly over the past few days. What's the reason?Take your pick--a nail infection I was stressing about, an electricity problem in my shared house, and a pandemic which is killing a few thousand people in the world everyday. I thought I was dealing with the crisis quite well, but turns out my victory lap was premature.
Sleeplessness is unnerving, but it is a devil known to me. And, I am sure countless others are having the same problem as our world faces the biggest crisis in generations. I am trying to do the best I can in the circumstances and that is all I can do. I have tamped down my fitness routine (although I might have to tamp it down further); and despite all the fear and anxiety about my own health and those of my loved ones, with my housemates every cough sending chills down my spine, I am managing to work on my thesis, blog regularly, eat healthy, do yoga regularly.
More pain, fear and anxiety might be in store for us over the next few weeks. There might be sleeplessness nights, numerous anxious moments, I or my friends, family or housemates might catch Covid-19. I might contemplate my mortality so many times that I would get sick of it. And, I will discover reserves of love, kindness, hope, wisdom and fortitude that I never knew I had. It will be an intense few weeks. I will feel emotions I have never felt before, gain new insights, become wiser, just like countless others. I will try to acknowledge and accept all that I feel--the good, the bad and the ugly--even if I can't bring myself to embrace it. 

BoJo in Hospital

Ever since it was reported that Boris Johnson was in hospital, I have been feeling more uneasy than usual. When he didn't end his self-isolation on Friday, I got the feeling his symptoms weren't mild, and now he is intensive care. It turns out many on the left like me have been feeling similarly distressed although all of us detest Boris Johnson.

A week ago, if you had asked me how I would react to such a development, my response would have been with indifference. But, that is not how it has turned out. I feel empathy for him and his family. Maybe it is because he is the Prime Minister of the country, the most powerful person in the UK, and seeing him struggling for his life makes one feel even more powerless and vulnerable. Maybe it is because  he is the first and most famous person I know who is in intensive care. Maybe it is the fact that however he is as a person or a politician, he is someone's son, dad, uncle, nephew, etc. 

Whatever it is, his sickness has shaken me, and a lot of people up. Plans of leaving the lockdown buffed up and having achieved a lot of progress on my PhD thesis seem fanciful. A lockdown as a natural habitat for introverts feels like a perverse thought. 

 But, it is important to remember that one swallow doesn't make a summer. It is important to take every day as it comes and treat oneself with limitless kindness. Today, I am proud that I managed to have a productive day at work despite all the distressing distractions. All I can do is my best.

Mood Swings

I slept quite badly last night, struggled through my exercise routine and was feeling blue after reading the news in the morning. My housemates coughing and blowing his noise heavily did nothing to soothe my frayed nerves/
 My mood brightened after I got a new idea for my research, which could potentially get me out of the rut I am stuck in. The good mood continued through the day, but towards the evening that the clouds darkened again after I read a journalist's account of her 'mild' Covid-19 symptoms, which sounded pretty horrible.
I realize this is going to be a long struggle. By the end of it, it is possible that someone I know or know of will be affected. If someone in my house gets it before me, I will have to listen to them cough their lungs out while eyeing the sword of sickness hanging above me. Fear for my own health, fear for the health of my loved ones, fear of fear. At the same time, the awareness that I don't want the world to go back to how it was before the crisis. The old world is dying and the new one hasn't yet been born, as someone wise (I don't remember who) said. 

Zoom

I had two sessions on Zoom, the video-conferencing app today. The first was with my book club group, which didn't enjoy immensely. Maybe because it was a largish group with a number of new people, and watching myself on screen with a bunch of white middle-class women made me feel even more out of place. The chat about the book was interesting, but the background small talk was a real drag. And neither did I like the suggestion that we read any book that we liked for next time and jsut talk about it. I can't think of anything worse. I really don't want to hear about random books that I haven't read.
I am fond of my regular book club group but wouldn't count any of them as friends. The advantage of that is I can disappear and reappear without explanation.
But, the good thing about video meetings is you can tune out and read something else while giving the impression that you  are paying rapt attention to the meeting.
The second session a nearly two-hour-long video chat with my friends from school and it really lifted my mood. It felt like take a hot bath after being out in the cold. Of course, there were moments when  I tuned out but all in all, it felt good to be just silly.

Lights Out (Again)

One of the phases in my house has tripped a fuse, so I am writing this with my door open to let in light from the hallway. As the pandemic unfolds, I have often contemplated how I would cope if utilities went down. This is not outside the realm of possibility for the first time in my life in the West. Maybe this is a teaser of things to come? I hope not, because I am heavily reliant on the Internet for both work and leisure. But whatever happens I would at least be able to sleep comfortably at night, unlike in India. 

I remember when I lived shortly in Delhi when I was in my early 20s, the power would conk out at 11:30 in the night. Lying sweating in the dark, wondering whether the power would come back in 2 minutes or 2 hours, and also wondering if it would conk out again, is not a pleasant feeling. At least here, I can gaze out of my bedroom window if I have nothing else to do. Living in a crisis makes you glad for small joys.

Man As An Island

I just read a column by a young man afflicted with terminal cancer who is spending his last days alone in coronavirus quarantine. Maybe it is not a good idea to read stories about death and dying when you are self-isolating in a pandemic, but I feel drawn to them. This morning, I went to the GoFundMe page of a 13-year-old healthy boy who died of Covid-19 in London, becoming the UK's youngest victim. The donation target was 4,000 pounds, and when I checked about 70,000 pounds had been raised already.
Coming back to the column by the dying man, I felt a strange connection to him. He also seemed to be single, he was also close to his sister (who lived with him but was temporarily staying away as she worked for the NHS). And he said that before the disease he was very independent, seeing himself as an island. The disease changed all that very quickly.
Yes, independence and self-sufficiency are less a virtue and more a result of good luck. But, I don't strive to be independent to pat myself on the back. Being an island feels like a good way to live my life and particularly well-suited to my personality. A part of the process of becoming more comfortable with myself is accepting that I am a loner with a rich inner life. So, I could either bemoan my loner tendencies or try to cultivate a rich inner life which I am very open to sharing with the right people. 

Survival Instinct

So, the nail infection that has been bugging me for the past week or so reached an inflection point today. I sent a photo of my nail to a doctor friend in India and he recommended draining the pus and getting on anti-biotics. As I would need a prescription for them in the UK, I called up my surgery, who told me that a doctor would video-call me later that afternoon. When the call failed to materialize and my anxiety levels had started to rise, I learned from a friend that there was a NHS drop-in centre for minor ailments. The nurse there told me to look away so I missed the sight of blood and puss spurting out of my finger. She wrote me up a prescription and told me to take the antibiotics only if I needed them. But after consulting my Indian friend, I decided to take them anyway.
What I have realised is I have a pretty strong survival instinct. Maybe it is a hypochondriac thing, but while I do suffer from health anxiety, it is mild. I would like to think that I am good at self-care, both for the mind and the body. I eat healthy without starving myself, I am fitness conscious without being obsessive, and I make sure I get enough sleep. So, now that I know I have a strong survival isntinct maybe it is a reason to be less anxious about my health. Because I should find comfort in the knowledge that my survival instinct will kick quite quickly when I am I perceive that I am in danger.