What to do when you don't know what to do

1. Get some breathing space. Step back from the situation. Breathe in through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Nice and slow

2. Shift your focus. To something or someone else

3. Talk to someone whose perspective you value. Someone who helps you clear your head

4. Write. Journal. Then journal some more.

5. Pray. To whomever or whatever you believe in

6. Tell yourself 'This too shall pass'.(Because it will, you know) That you will handle it

7. Spend time in nature. Sit at the beach and watch the sunset with your feet in the sand

8. Paint your feelings. Let colours be your language

9. Take some action, however small, in any direction. At times the roads clear when you start walking on one

10. Ask yourself what you really, truly want. Beneath all the surface confusion and conflict. Then go for it

11. Have faith. Hold yourself through this. You're not alone

P.S. - Started writing this in August, at a time when I indeed did not know what to do. Got back to complete and post it today when Rhea, one of my students, excitedly asked about my blog, just having learned that I write. Thanks, Rhea. This one's to you. :)

Desire

Desire, thy tentacles are vicious
Slowly crawling up to my heart
A red-hot bullet piercing my chest
Staying buried there
As regret
With the passage of time.

Ekla Chalo Re

This, perhaps, might be the trivialization of a poem written during more intense times, but I couldn't think of a better title. Today, this call given by Tagore way back in 1905 was reinforced in my mind a little more, in a small, personal way.

The first time I learned this lesson was way back in 2003. After being let down on three different occasions by friends, I was almost going to miss watching a movie I had really been looking forward to - Love Actually. Until on a whim, I decided to chuck waiting for anyone to join in and marched off by myself to watch it in Globus Cinema in Bandra. The rows ahead of me were empty - I stretched out my footwear-less feet on the seats ahead, a la Aamir Khan in Rangeela, guffawed and laughed and sighed unto myself, and basically had a good time. Till date, it remains one of my all-time favourite mush movies and I've lost count of the number of times I've seen it.

A few years later, in 2006, was Omkara. This was a little different. I saw it in a mini-theatre in which there only two women in the audience - the other one was with her boyfriend. Didn't help my awkwardness that the movie started off (and continued with) juicy desi expletives. But I survived. And again, really enjoyed the movie - its darkness, the strong performances, the haunting music that kept growing on me. My mum was horrified at the idea of me watching it alone, asked me if I was nuts, and gave me a stern warning to never do it again. But I had just smiled in response.

A few movies/plays in between that I can't recollect, and then was DevD in 2009, while I was in my final term on campus. Again, a friend ditched me, in favour of watching it with a group, and I ended up thanking him for enabling me to enjoy that intense a movie by myself. He thought I was being sarcy, but I was only grateful. Being alone let me soak into the movie completely, and into its intoxicating music, the way it had been woven into the plot that the character couldn't have but sung/felt the song at that time. Oh I watched it a second time with Srikrishnan, but that's a different story.

This keeda had begun much earlier - in Class 11 and 12 - I used to go off to college fests by myself, when most of my classmates didn't want to venture out as much. Over many such events, places, and movies, Ekla Chalo Re ran like an anthem in my head, though not in those exact words. And today, but for this anthem, I would've missed what was one of my purest, finest brushes with art. I first fell in love with Gulzaar's words when I listened to 'Iss mod se jaate hain...', and understood it fully in spirit. From then on I haven't ceased to be amazed at the beauty of his creations. Right from that and 'Tere Bina Zindagi se koi...'to 'O Saathi re', 'Naina', and 'Namak Ishq ka', I have lost count of the number of songs I have been smitten by and he's written (yes, almost always the former has happened before I discover the latter) But to hear and see it live - simple words dancing evocatively to an unsung melody - is quite something. His voice is deeper than I'd thought. And every syllable he speaks is felt - by his lips and emotions alike. As someone who writes poetry herself, I was taken in by how effortlessly he conjured delicious imagery out of thin air - painting a picture of a lonely forest at one time, a shy ,timid bride at another, and a son asking innocent questions to his mother at yet another. The credit here, of course, should first go to Tagore. The vision in all of the poems recited today was his, as was the imagery. But to be able to bring it alive in a different language is also the work of a masterful artist. And Gulzaar did that. He brought Tagore to all of us who had hitherto been held back by the barrier of language. The recital left me with a placid mind and a delighted smile for many hours after that. To think I was almost going to miss this because whomever I asked couldn't come (or didn't want to come) for one reason or another. Yes, thank you, Chikku for urging me to buy the ticket anyway. :)

That was a slight, indulgent diversion. But my point remains. If no one can see where you are headed and why, go on anyway. They may or may not follow. Either way, you've gained something. At a deeper, philosophical level (which I love slipping into, be warned) we are all alone in our journeys, on our paths.

And so, 'If they answer not to thy call walk alone...', Ekla Chalo re.