Story of our Lives

This book is so touching and poignant, a tribute to the human spirit and its connections, the influence our lives have on others, knowingly and unknowingly, our fears and anxiety so well explained.
I cannot say more than what the author has already said.
It is beautiful, sad, lyrical.

“They say that a person’s personality is the sum of their experiences. But that isn’t true, at least not entirely, because if our past was all that defined us, we’d never be able to put up with ourselves. We need to be allowed to convince ourselves that we’re more than the mistakes we made yesterday. That we are all of our next choices, too, all of our tomorrows.”

“The truth of course is that if people really were as happy as they look on the Internet, they wouldn’t spend so much damn time on the Internet, because no one who’s having a really good day spends half of it taking pictures of themselves. Anyone can nurture a myth about their life if they have enough manure, so if the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, that’s probably because it’s full of shit.”

“Because the terrible thing about becoming an adult is being forced to realize that absolutely nobody cares about us, we have to deal with everything ourselves now, find out how the whole world works. Work and pay bills, use dental floss and get to meetings on time, stand in line and fill out forms, come to grips with cables and put furniture together, change tires on the car and charge the phone and switch the coffee machine off and not forget to sign the kids up for swimming lessons. We open our eyes in the morning and life is just waiting to tip a fresh avalanche of "Don't Forget!"s and "Remember!"s over us. We don't have time to think or breathe, we just wake up and start digging through the heap, because there will be another one dumped on us tomorrow. We look around occasionally, at our place of work or at parents' meetings or out in the street, and realize with horror that everyone else seems to know exactly what they're doing. We're the only ones who have to pretend. Everyone else can afford stuff and has a handle on other stuff and enough energy to deal with even more stuff. And everyone else's children can swim.”

“We're trying to be grown-up and love each other and understand how the hell you're supposed to insert USB leads. We're looking for something to cling on to, something to fight for, something to look forward to. We're doing all we can to teach our children how to swim. We have all of this in common, yet most of us remain strangers, we never know what we do to each other, how your life is affected by mine.
Perhaps we hurried past each other in a crowd today, and neither of us noticed, and the fibers of your coat brushed against mine for single moment and then we were gone. I don't know who you are.
But when you get home this evening, when this day is over and the night takes us, allow yourself a deep breath. Because we made it through this day as well.
There'll be another one along tomorrow.”

“One bit at a time, Mom.” She laughed just as loudly, for the thousandth time, the way parents do. Then she held his hand tightly and said: “We can’t change the world, and a lot of the time we can’t even change people. No more than one bit at a time. So we do what we can to help whenever we get the chance, sweetheart. We save those we can. We do our best. Then we try to find a way to convince ourselves that that will just have to… be enough. So we can live with our failures without drowning.”

“Do you know what the worst thing about being a parent is? That you're always judged by your worst moments. You can do a million things right, but if you do one single thing wrong you're forever that parent who was checking his phone in the park when your child was hit in the head by a swing. We don't take our eyes off them for days at a time, but then you read just one text message and it's as if all your best moments never happened. No one goes to see a psychologist to talk about all the times they weren't hit in the head by a swing as a child. Parents are defined by their mistakes.”

“It just hurts so much at times, being human. Not understanding yourself, not liking the body you’re stuck in. Seeing your eyes in the mirror and wondering whose they are, always with the same question: “What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel like this?”

― Fredrik Backman, Anxious People

Gratitude Post: 6

Ever since I have moved back to Bangalore with a 1 and 2 year old, my parents have ben around.

They were there.

Through the good and bad.

Controlling, caring.

Loving, Yelling

Today I do have difference in opinions, crave for some freedom, independence, space.

But if they had not been around, I would probably be someone else.

I may have survived, resilience is something we inherently have.

It could have been different.

This post is about being grateful for my parent's presence. They gave.

I give back, I think it is enough, I know it never will be.

Gratitude Post: 5

The man credited by the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office with the first such trimmer was named Valentine Fogerty, though the design of his device could best be described as a circular nail file rather than a keratin clip. The first design in the USPTO’s files that I could find that could be described as having anything in common with modern designs came from inventors Eugene Heim and Oelestin Matz, who were granted a patent for a clamp-style fingernail clipper in 1881.

For nail-clippers and men who cut their nails.
Enough said…

Gratitude Post: 4

This goes out to all the house help who make my day easy.

During the lockdown, I did all the household work along with getting used to the new pressures and expectations of working from home.

We Indians are a spoilt lot and depend on house help for all our needs.
We paid them during the days they never came to work, because of the lockdown.
Several homes took safety into their hands and decided to stop any entry of people which included house helps.
Many lost their jobs and livelihood, especially difficult when their spouse mostly carpenters, masons, drivers had also lost their jobs.

I am grateful to those who came, those who still come, making my living comfortable.
Giving them a few days off when they need it most, a little extra cash to help in times of need, a salary advance during difficult times are what I can do to ease their worries.

But what they offer me is peace of mind and body which is much more valuable than what I can offer them.

"Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”
Marcel Proust

Gratitude Post: 3

There is a small Nilgris departmental store across the road from our apartment.
They remained open; being essential services even during the lockdown.
They have been a big help to us for anything we may need, especially when we specifically request them for something, they went all out to procure the item. Like baking powder, icing sugar, vanilla essence:)

They served long hours, maintaining safety and hygiene measures.
They know what are peoples preferences, tastes, passions too:)

When I bake, I tend to give away some goodies to friends and neighbours, this year on my birthday I chose to walk over to the good folks at the department store instead and gave them some of my chocolate cake.
They were thrilled, they never expected gratitude in this form.

Grateful for their service, their support when it was needed the most.

Gratitude Post: 2

I live in an apartment complex. The gates remain open during the day for vehicular movement and people to walk in easily.

Though there is an app to approve any entry of visitors, delivery and sales men it is still easy for anyone familiar to walk in without registering as long as you just keep walking in confidently.
Which is what caused the fiasco of the smashed pot on the windshield of the car.
Immediately, there was a lot of fury among residents, me included, worried about the security and safety of our community. Soon forgotten the other days of infallible service provided by them.

I have lived in this complex for almost 15 years.
Several agencies have come and gone between various changes to the apartment association representatives.

During the lockdown, the security not just performed their duties, but also took upon themselves to participate in the cleaning, helping old invalid residents, living alone and ensuring the community remained safe and protected during the spread of the virus.
They kept the gates locked, getting up each time someone stood at the gates, waiting for them to open, never grumbling.

I have had them open the gates for me while trying to slip in before sun rise after a late night out or coming in after the Cinderella hour as they watched my carriage turn into a pumpkin.
Never asking, never judging.
Just doing their job, keeping an eye out on the roads to ensure I walk in safe.

My thanks to them at those moments, are never enough.
The small token of appreciation I hand out to them during festivals and celebrations can never repay them for all the safety they provide when we need it most.

Gratitude post: 1

Lockdown, pandemic, curfews, restrictions are what we lived through since mid March 2020
There have been so many losses of lives and livelihood.
The virus did not differentiate between age, income, religion, castes.

Some extroverts and socially active people struggled with the isolation, others used the quiet time to introspect and reinvent themselves.
Some found the time at home with family a blessing, the same situation was claustrophobic to few.

I went through issues of space and peace, sought solace in movies, books and running.
Having already blocked unnecessary noise, I did not need anyone else outside of my apartment complex for company.

But everyone caves in eventually, after a while the old familiar ways are missed and comfort can only be gained from what once was and people and conversations we know and sounds of laughter.

Thus the trips started, the short trip to work, a quick detour to meet friends who could make you laugh.
The rush back before curfew hours. Weekends were curfews, stuck at home. 
Slowly the city relaxed and so did I. I stayed beyond sun down. Weekdays becoming weekends instead.
The city was waking up, transport was slowly returning to normal, cabs were again seen on the roads.

This is a gratitude post to all the cab drivers who brought me home safely, the straight road, 12 kms though not a long distance and gets covered in 25 mins late at night, is deserted and quiet.
Cab drivers in Bangalore are touted as untrustworthy and ready to take advantage of the situation.
Everyone warns me that it will not be safe all the time.
I blindly put my faith in the powers above and trust that He has sent someone to take me home safe at that hour, I fight to stay awake, I play with my phone, ready to press help if needed.

Grateful for the inherent goodness in people.
The small tip I pay, I hope makes them continue the good service they render and keep the faith of people alive.

"We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude"