one week

the year started on a very different note from how it's going.

what makes it worse is, i can see it going wrong.

i feel like i'm out of my depth.

i'm sure there's the right thing/things to do, that are in plain sight.

it seems like I'm missing the obvious.

wish me luck.

Sailing from Charni Road to Portpatrick

I woke up at 7am and headed to Carrickfergus. It was a gloomy morning, and only two other people had arrived - the rest were on their way. We were going to leave for Portpatrick between 11am and noon, so I was very early. I took the train. Shruti, Kevin and Brenna joined me on the train as we headed to South Bombay. We got off the train at Charni Road (although from the layout of the platforms and bridges it seemed more like Mahalaxmi). I wanted to use the toilet. Shruti and I looked for it. We could only find the one marked Ladies but not the one marked Gents. We arked around and was eventually led to the station master's office. There were a bunch of people inside, a few sitting around a table, having some sort of meeting, while the rest were in a queue. It was a queue for the toilet!

Thr toilet and the station master/meeting room were in one big room, with nothing to separate them - the toilet was a commode surrounded by filing cabinets and files and stacks of paper other things you'd expect to see in a station master's office. I didn't really pay attention to the queue ahead of me and before I realized it, it was my turn. There was nobody queued up after me, and I was thankful. I would have really liked some privacy but the best I could get was the fact that there was nobody in the room other than Shruti, and the bunch of men having a meeting in the other half of the room - the men were bent over something on the desk and discussing it animatedly, so Iwas quite sure they wouldn't pay me any attention.

Right after I sat on the commode, I started feeling very weird. I felt dizzy and unstable. I asked Shruti to come closer and hold my hand, as I felt I was about to faint and fall off the commode and make a mess. She held my left hand and asked me what happened and if I'm OK. I told her I'll need a minute but I feel better already.

In the meantime, a lady walked in, wearing a white nurse's uniform, including a nurse's cap.

I somehow assumed she was in charge of keeping the toilet clean, and complained to her, while still seated on it, that it was not. She replied that it's not her fault it's not clean, as I'm the one currently using it. I told her it wasn't clean before I used it, and in fact I almost fainted as it was so dirty. She refused to believe me until Shruti backed me up.

Job done and I was back on the platform. We took the bridge on to the road. We were trying to get to the beach, but I took the wrong bridge out and we had to walk along the road, and take another bridge to get on to the beach. Kevin and Brenna were waiting at the end of the bridge, and I told them they should come sailing too. At that point, a group of about 3 or 4 older people (one of whom resembled my school science teacher) told me it was too late to go sailing - it was already noon! Also, we were at Charni Road, and the boat left from Carrickfergus!

I wondered why Hugh didn't call me when he was leaving - I thought about it a bit and realized he may have not left yet, but I definitely wouldn't make it, so I should message him instead and tell him that I couldn't make it. I also told everyone that we weren't sailing today as it had gotten too late.

And that's when I woke up. It was 8am. I had dismissed my 7:40am alarm in my sleep. If I didn't leave at 8:30am, I'd have been late to get to Carrickfergus to go sailing! I thought to myself, damn - that was really close! If I didn't wake up when I did, I'd have actually missed sailing that day!

ps: Turns out I had not read my email and we were actually supposed to get to Carrickfergus at 10am instead of the usual 9am. Still!

I'll fly away

two years.

they say that time heals, and in many ways it has, but in some ways, it hasn't. he's still here, following me everywhere in a way I never felt while he was alive, like some sort of omnipresent vacuum.

I am aware of my human weakness when it comes to making up memories, subconsciously adding a little detail to moments that may have been blurred by the passage of time and distorted by the strange way the human mind works. but I know there's something that rings true with every memory. that marvellous man, my beloved father. a man who, despite obvious shortcomings and failings, I still maintain was the best person to have walked this earth.

just the other day, we were discussing what dad would have had to say if he was present at that moment. the moment was something mundane, possibly me breaking the garlic press in an attempt to disassemble it. it's easy to imagine something logical, sensible, brilliant. or maybe something witty and irreverent. and I know, it's also equally (or maybe even far more) likely he'd have said something extremely mundane - maybe one of his favourite tropes/quips. but to predict what dad would have said is futile. every fantasy of being reunited with him in some sort of weird predicted interaction would fall short.

but that's all I have now. thoughts, memories and my imagination. 

I know that sitting on my couch, typing a blog post when I should be sleeping would elicit a gentle nudge from him to go to bed, to remind me that I have work tomorrow. he cared for me in a way I've never felt anyone care for me... in a way that was both protective and freeing. and that's what I remember best about dad. he was only human, in a way that made "only human" something to aspire to. he made the imperfect feel right.

everything feels imperfect right now. but I know this is the sort of moment that dad would meet with calm acceptance. with making the best of the moment, even if it looks like I'm failing miserably and everything's lost. 

I just realized I have never ever, ever, ever, absolutely ever, seen dad give up.

good night. please come to me in my dreams. I miss your hugs.

serial killer dad?

a recent dream was too traumatic to even blog, but I guess if there's some hidden meaning to it, it might be worth interpreting. in short, it was a dream about dad being a serial killer, him killing someone and dragging the body into our living room and propping it against a wall. for some reason we didn't seem to even react to this other than saying hello to dad as if it was just another day.

the victim was shot through the head so cleanly he had bandaged the bullet wound and it seemed like the victim (who was a bald middle aged caucasian man, btw) had simply had a bump to the head. but after the body was in the house (which looked like our mumbai apartment from the inside), we were surrounded by police cars (they looked like UK police cars) hiding in the thick pine forest surrounding it. the house was on the side of a hillock that was slightly higher than it, and looked like some sort of modern glass and metal house, with one side built into the side of a hillock and the other side held up by stilts, with a garden below it.

I had to get out of the house to go to the shop for something (seemed like something mundane like milk) and basically had to get away on foot without being spotted by the police. thankfully there were only about 3 cars and I was able to evade them by moving outwards in a spiral.

and that's when i woke up.

ps: I've had recent conversation about the hidden meaning of dreams, and while i insist there isn't any, my friend who I was discussing this with (and a few other people I know, and loads more on the internet) said they mean something. so - what does a dream about my dad being a serial killer mean?

2023

no matter how you paint it, 2023 was not a rosy year. if life's about taking the rough with the smooth, this year was more rough than smooth - no doubt about that.

still, now that the year is drawing to a close, I have much to be grateful for. of all the things that went wrong, as well as the many more things that threatened to go wrong, I'm grateful that no permanent damage seems to have been done.

2023 was the sort of year that made me second guess a lot of things I took for granted. I don't know if it's just the effect of things that happened, but now, every decision I make seems to be underscored by the thought that everything could go wrong. and I now accept that.

is it just all the risks I've been taking catching up with me? or have I simply been unlucky?

either way, I don't think I've changed my behaviour. I've just pressed on harder, conscious that I'm doing what I've always wanted to do.

I don't know what 2024 holds in store, and to some extent, I don't particularly care. I know what I want to make of it. 

I don't have any resolutions or even plans for 2024. I'm not going to think about what the universe is going to send my way. all I know is, I'm already doing what I want to do. I'll just keep doing it, maybe a little more earnestly than this year!

The boring movie

It was some sort of spy situation, in a weird part of the world - looked somewhat like India, but not quite. Tom Cruise was with a female sidekick. They were in some sort of dangerous situation and needed to get out quickly. Tom hit some sort of contraption that launched himself and his accomplice like some sort of jetpack/ejector seat, but instead of being launched vertically, they were launched diagonally, almost horizontally, into the distance, past the seafront, into the sea. When they were just a speck on the horizon, the parachute launched. as they got closer to the water, it turned out it wasn't exactly the sea, but some sort of frozen iceberg, except that instead of the ice being white as icebergs are usually pictured to be, it was transparent - it looked somewhat like a frozen transparent wave! The wave was hollow - it had some kind of tunnel, the entrance of which Tom cruise and his accomplice slid through and came to a halt, as the villians or whoever was the cause of danger they were escaping watched on disappointed at their getting away.

Tom Cruise decided he had to go back in, alone.

The next thing, the sun had set, it was dark, and Tom Cruise was back in the ramshackle building he had escaped from, but alone. It was less a building than a crumbling abandoned, possibly half-constructed building, that was long but narrow. It was barely two or three storeys high, and didn't have any lights on. The street was lit in dim yellow light, and while there were other lights in the distance, none of the buildings nearby (all of similar height and not looking particularly well kept) seemed occupied or lit either. There were two guards at the top of the staircase, pacing up and down the corridor outside a room - presumably the room he had previously escaped from.

Tom made no attempt to avoid them, and got into a fistfight of sorts with both guards. The fight just went on with both sides trading blows, but no advantage gained or lost.

At some point, the door of the room opened and the guy who they were guarding (the boss of sorts?) emerged. He didn't seem to take too kindly to the scuffle and pushed the two guards aside, coming face to face with Tom Cruise.

At some point during the scuffle, the point of view had changed from third person to Tom Cruise's, and now it suddenly became apparent that the boss was some sort of giant - Tom's (and hence my) line of vision barely got to the bottom of his chest, and his hairy, muscular abdomen.

A set of quick punches to his middle, and the fight was on again. Despite the massive difference in size, there was still no clear advantage to either side. The fight seemed to just go on and on.

And then, I woke up.

It was 7:19am, and I think it was something on my phone that woke me up, although the wifi was off so it couldn't have been a message, my phone hadn't rang, and it wasn't my alarm either.

I thought to myself, am I really going to go back to sleep? That fight was super boring!

I did try to go back to sleep, and the fight seemed to resume, except the boss was now closer to Tom Cruise's height, and they were more kickboxing than fistfighting.

I remember thinking to myself, there must be some way to make this more interesting!

At some point in that fight I drifted off to a more dreamless sleep.

The anniversary adventure

23rd December marked 7 years since we got married. I still remember some of that day very well, although given the amount of photographs, facebook statuses and other digital evidence I have of the day, it's hard to separate what I remember organically from what I remember digitally. It's true though that the statuses and photos and videos and whatnot are linked to feelings, feelings I can still feel inside me from that eventful day. And I guess one of the overwhelming feelings I have from that day was of adventure!

My life 7 years ago was definitely crazier and more unpredictable than what it is now, and while I remember the feelings and even feel the motivation to do the same things, it's almost like something's holding me back. It's like, every time I sit at my couch and look at my motorbike parked outside my front door, I think, I could just go for a spin in the middle of the night? Only difference is, there's no crazy friends to meet for tea at 1am, no all-night chai and bun-maska stalls, the waterfront feels boring, and I should really be going to bed.

Anyway.

On the 23rd, I sneaked out of the house to buy mutton from St George Market. I thought Shruti was still asleep and wouldn't notice. Turns out she did. Does that count as adventure? When was the last time I tried to sneak out of the house without telling Shruti? Must be years!

We then changed and headed out for lunch at the "Dirty Duck", a rather nice (and award-winning, it turns out!) restaurant at Holywood. I didn't really do any research at all, Shruti had done the reservation, and I was thankful I had stuck on navigation before we set off, because I wouldn't had found it - I had no idea Holywood had such a nice seafront, much less that the dirty duck was situated right off it!

Lunch was great, and we were so stuffed we decided to walk around before heading back. We walked to the high street, stopped at Cafe Nero for a coffee, and walked around the town centre and back to where we parked the bike. Wore our helmets, gloves, and was about to set off when I had an "oh no" second: I had popped the keys to the ignition into the locked fairing pocket!

I tried jimmying the lock open with our house keys (yes, thankfully we carried a spare set, there have been plenty of times we didn't because I have one set on the bike keys - in fact evern today, Shruti grabbed the spare set as we were getting out the door, "just in case"!), to no avail. Someone was unlocking their car in front of us, and we asked them if they had a screwdriver. Strangely enough, they said they didn't, but they checked the boot and found a first aid kit, which had a pair of scissors - that didn't work either. In the meantime, Shruti called the nearest locksmith (a half an hour's walk, but still in Holywood) but there was no answer. I then called the next nearest locksmith, but he said they don't do emergency callouts and asked us to call the locksmith we had just called.

After one last call to the nearby locksmith, we decided to head home and fetch the duplicate key instead. Luckily for us, we were just a 5 minute walk from the train station (we had just walked past it), and the next train was due in another 15 minutes. We booked a single ticket for Shruti and a return for myself. Back in Belfast, the quicket means of transport was actually the bus, so we took the bus home - again, a single ticket for Shruti and a day pass for me. Back home, I picked up the powerbank and charging cable, headphones, a bottle of water, and headed back out to catch the same bus that had just dropped us home, headed back the other way. Ran to the station, and caught the next train with just 4 minutes to spare! I was glad the timing worked out perfectly, and also that the key opened the lock, despite my attempts at forcing it open with a scissors!

Given the sort of thing that just happened, I was super cautious as I put the keys away and got ready to start the bike, conscious that all 3 sets of keys were now on me, and there was no plan b!

On the way home, I did stop for groceries, and also picked up a drill machine from Jay before finally getting home around 9pm - 4 hours after I locked the keys in the bike.

The rest of our anniversary was fairly mundane, sitting around with Shruti, watching youtube and talking about stuff - enough adventure for today!

It may feel strange, but less than a downer, I felt it was actually nice to have a bit of adventure on our anniversary. We had a good time, but we also took the rough with the smooth, and all's well that ends well. Which kinda sums up our relationship too.

Happy anniversary to us!