I don’t know how to start this post or what to talk about. There is no way to describe the last few weeks. Every day is a little different; nothing about life has been consistent lately – not my mood, not my productivity (or my lack of it), not my reading, not my writing. I can’t even think of an appropriate metaphor or simile to explain what it’s been like.
When I do find a way to get started, I find tons of things to talk about, important things I think shouldn’t be left out. But it’s difficult to put it all into words without ranting on and on, making this post thousands of words long.
But I won’t do that. This one day has made me laugh and almost cry, and I don’t know what tone to adapt or what to focus on. There’s so much.
I’ll talk about a few things I care about though – even though right now, “talking” means simply referring to them. The protests in the US, the plight of migrants here in India. Cases have been on the rise, and the country is being “unlocked”. More and more people are dying every day, the economy doesn’t have any strength left, cyclones are closing in from both sides, people in privilege are easily ignoring the struggles students are going through. And the government is busy arresting innocent people who were trying to hold it accountable before corona showed up. Many are still grappling with the aftermath of the riots earlier in the year. So many forgotten, so many ignored.
The more I read, the more I realize how privileged I am. The worst all of this is doing to me is upsetting me enough that I share stuff and take a break from the news. My life is fine. Lockdown feels like just my gap year. Nothing to worry about, except the usual mood swings, and, now that my mother has resumed working again, worrying about her safety. I don’t have to give exams, I don’t have to struggle for food or shelter. My life isn’t at risk. No cyclone is disrupting everything around me. I am safe from hate because of my surname.
My privilege disgusts me. I’m trying to find ways to do what I can. Admittedly, it’s not much. I’m sharing resources. I’m checking in with friends. And I’m working with a mental health organization that’s reaching out to the youth of India, trying to make things easier for them. Hopefully, some of it will work and I’ll have made some difference in at least one person’s life.
Even talking about it makes me feel privileged. I don’t know how exactly to explain it. I say I’m trying but it feels like I’m lying instead, saying I care just to show others that I do.
I do care, but it doesn’t feel enough.
I’m trying to get back into the habit of writing every day. I’m learning figure drawing, the art and science of human relationships, and reading a little every day. Since it’s also Pride month, I’m doing some reading or watching videos about the LGBTQIA+ community every day. I had a dream of losing her, so I’m trying to talk to my grandmother over the phone daily. Listening to her voice does something to me these days. I want to sleep next to her, like I used to do when I was a child. I miss her.
It’s strange, how I can feel and think and do so many things in a single day. It feels pointless to find one word or one sentence to describe everything that takes place over 24 hours. How do I explain it all in a few words? Being a human is difficult in that way.
But this is hardly a problem. There’s so much going on, inside me and outside. I don’t even know how to put a good sentence together, a sentence good enough to end this piece, to let you all know what’s going on with me as I usually do in my posts, a sentence crafted well enough to let you know that I care and I’m trying and I’m disgusted by my failure and inaction, without making it look like I’m asking for sympathy for simply showing some decency, some humanity.
I don’t know how to explain all that I want to say and all that I feel as I write this – a hypocrite. Privileged. Guilty. Upset. PMSing. Lonely. Strange. A little bit happy and grateful for the things I do have. A sense of helplessness, a little fear. Hope. And more – contradictory feelings that I don’t have words for.
But there’s something that I want to say and I hope that it is enough, if only a little: I care. And I’m listening. And I’m sorry. I’m with you all. I’m trying to understand and empathize and fix what I can.
And I want to thank you, for making it this far, for giving me and my words this time.
Take care. Stay safe.