tl;dr

I do not mean this to be a maudlin or heart wrenching account of anything. Writing makes me feel better is all. The month before I was due to move to b’lore for 6 months, it was all dreamy. When I think of that I feel a little repulsed by the innocent naïveté of a freshly done with college 21 year old. The first day I came was marred a little, but only a little because of the dull morning that followed and ambiguity in one very important sphere of being here. The next day began and it was still just alright, nothing too great or too bad. That ambiguity that I ambiguously pointed out persisted and bothered my neatly organized mind. It was a thorn in my side and it annoyed me so. Still I seemingly held out, for that’s what “held out” meant to me then. Another day at office, I started accepting things and well, took them in my stride and tried to move on. Make new friends, talk to new people, you know, the supposed usual. Turns out lots of subtle and minor conniving went on, perhaps conniving is overstating it. It was a little twisted but well, isn’t everything, I guess. A little bit of hope arose only to be smashed down in a billion gazillion pieces, repeat, repeat the repeat. This went on for a lot of days and one of the major things I could feel was utter and complete loneliness. At that time, it seemed like a pitch black abyss where you’re scared of the monster but deep down inside you know even the monster has taken a hike and would not like to grace you with its fearful and terrible company. Little things reminded me of home; my mother’s ringtone suddenly playing on someone’s phone in my office (still chokes me up a little), switching on the light when you come back to an empty house. I didn’t even try to eat at the dining table the first few days because sitting there alone felt horrible. The worst part ironically was talking to friends and family over phone because I had to relate the weary details of the day, of misguided ambulatory trips and cheating landlords. This will probably, no definitely, make me look like a porcelain doll, but the one routine that held was having breakdowns (mental, emotional, take your pick) every day after coming back home for different reasons. Then there was the matter of physical fitness which I was absolutely lacking. Talking of lack of things, suddenly I found myself constantly on the ola app which continued to burn holes in my pocket very lavishly. Commute, the bitch. I began looking for alternative bus routes, which proved to be as hard as looking for flats for some reason. I didn’t know the way back to my house although I ACTIVELY tried to understand the routes. There were so many and so confusing that I often mixed up a couple and ended up at roadblocks. And oh the traffic and this weird dust that never failed to get my throat all scratchy when I already had a major persisting cold. Maybe I should jot down the things that I didn’t like about this city. IT WAS NOT MUMBAI would be topping my list. The weather was horribly cold, the commute even worse. My mood wasn’t improving and one day I ended up yelling at a taxiwalla over phone who refused to pick me up at silk board. Yesterday, 2 autowallas and 2 taxiwallas rejected me and I didn’t flinch. A tip for those forlorn lovers, if you want to understand true rejection, call an ola cab when you are stranded in a strange city completely out of your wits and hungry and cold as a food-and-heat-loving lady on karvachauth day. People finally made a plan the coming weekend to go out and “chill”. I was skeptical but, well, what the hell, I went. Was horrible. We ‘bar hopped’, I had a blaring headache was hungry and it had gotten excessively cold. It was absolutely horrible. My father had come here for the weekend and was going to help me sort my stuff out. The original plan was to just chill around because my stuff was SUPPOSED to be sorted out by the time he came. We had fun times. Went around the place and he showed me places we used to go when I was a kid. He cleaned my living space and basically started my kitchen, so to speak. Basically made my life easier by a ton. He left. Then came the crushing weight of homesickness and loneliness crashing down like a billion-gallon ice-cold waterfall right on my head. I think I had become more or less immune to any possible emotion by then so I didn’t react to another piece of news which would’ve been horribly disappointing otherwise. Apparently I “Pushed through”, or something on those lines, because these are just minor, stupid problems compared to the ones people face every day of their entire lives. I had friends getting annoyed with me for whining too much, much like I was. Throughout this period, what was a little too overwhelming was the utter loneliness that I dealt with everyday. Family comfort was there but that was it, they couldn’t do much more than talk to me. It still rattles me how bad I felt, I was supposed to be strong. Let’s be clear, this is not something I hold against Bangalore at all, I spent the first 6 years of my life here, one of my very close friends comes from the city. How can I not like it? It’s just that what happened was maybe just my luck, or bad timing, or whatever. The bottom line is that I think I understand what happened. None of the situations were as bad as they seemed that time, I had imposed my inner chaos onto the world and said that the world is fucked up, I am completely fine. It’s a miracle how much 2 days of getting your life back in order and do for your mental state. So anyway, things seem alright, decent too. Things are falling back into place. Things are happening. Things are nice. Things are alright.