Shouting at my hollowness

Sometimes, I read what people have written about me on various social media fora, and I have an urge to write back - either to clarify or to deny, perhaps even to retaliate. This is the amygdala hijack that psychologists talk about. Since somewhere, my emotional core is threatened, I will tend to react immediately, without much thought.

But then I hold myself back. I consult a few friends who are more level-headed. They tell me to hold back, to not write, to not engage in public vilification of others. To damage someone's self esteem is one of the most detrimental things that you can do to them, and though I'm sure I've done it several times, but it is neither correct not encouraged. True love isn't about going on writing thesis on what true love is; it isn't about trying to feel loved by enabling others to act in a particular way. We're humans, we have our pitfalls - we might never know what true love is. All we can do is to be kind, because everyone here is fighting a great battle.

I'm not immune to public opinion - I keep on reading what was written about me. It is an experiment, a Gandhi-esque experiment. To hold back, to not respond; to keep loving, praying and hoping. It is an experiment to not shout back at my own hollowness; to not blame others for my miseries. Nobody can control me, or hurt me, unless I let them; and I hope I'll never blame anybody for hurting me.

I should do whatever it takes for me to be happy; because if I'm not happy, I can't make people around me happy. I would love to be in a world where we are all inter-connected capsules of happiness. I will not shout at my hollowness; but move on, make new bonds, live new lives. Because every new person is going to teach me something, and as the eternal traveler, I must learn.

The Happiest Moments of My Life

Here are the happiest moments of my life that I can recall right now. Of course, I've been far happier over an extended period of time, such as the time spent on the Andrews Lawns with my friends in the first year of College, or the numerous trips that I went for. But here are those moments that are forever etched in my mind:

1. Columban Open Quiz, 2008:
   On the face of it, Kritika and I didn't achieve much at the Columban Open Quiz. We came 3rd in our qualifying round, and were then eliminated in the quarterfinals. However, to put it in perspective, one year back, in Shubham's team, I probably knew just 1/30 of the answers (and we didn't qualify for the quarters). I wanted to prove to myself that I could do well at quizzing. I had absolutely no background in quizzing, and found it more intimidating than exhilarating. Over the next one year, I embarked on a journey with Kritika where we saw each other grow as quizzers. The moment when our name was announced was both unbelievable, and the happiest moment of my life.Then when we did well at the Columban, I remember going back to my room and feeling empty - as if I'd been relieved of a big burden. I left quizzing soon after that, but it gave me confidence of several things - (1) I, or anybody else, is not mediocre; we can survive among the big boys if we want to (2) to be happy in what you get, and not be sad for what you didn't (3) to make the journey with someone is far more pleasant than to make it alone. Kritika is still among my best friends; and to think that we started as merely quizzing partners (and moreover, we both have nothing to do with quizzing anymore).
   
   
2. Manchit's House, 2010:
   I suppose I've given as many surprises to my friends as they've given to me. Yet, the one time when Aashik and I went all the way to Manchit's house in Meerut to meet him encapsulates the joy of giving surprises. Manchit had just fractured his foot and was recovering in Meerut. It was holi, and Aashik and I decided to go meet him, without telling him in advance, of course. It was also the day before Holi, so we were slightly scared. Pranati was our partner-in-crime, picking us up from the bus stop, and then taking us to her home (because, on the way, we saw Manchit leaving for the doctor). Then the wait for Manchit to return, then the wait for Pranati's dad to return; and finally landing up at Manchit's place unannounced. What that experience taught me was to not think too much; just going ahead and doing what the heart feels like.
   
   
3. Europe, 2013:
   To be honest, most of you would find my Eurotrip quite drab; it was a touristy trip that neither I, nor people of my age, would've found particularly exciting. But while waiting for boarding at the Rome airport, I felt a sense of achievement unlike anything I'd felt before. Here I was, living a dream that I had never imagined would come true. Secondly, I did it all on my money. My brother once told me how empowering money felt, and this was the first time that I understood what he meant. Yesterday, while seeing Paris in Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani, I reminisced of how being there was so unreal. To stand in the Louvre's courtyard waiting for Yash, to climb the narrow lanes of Amalfi in Italy and taste the original pizza, to search for an artist in Piazza Navona, Rome, who could make a sketch for Manchit, to compete with Japanese women to buy a spray paint for Gaurav, to walk along the streets of Amsterdam aimlessly - it all feels so unreal now. It felt like a sweet reward for all the sacrifices I'd made on the way; as Amrish Puri in DDLJ would have said 'Ja, jee le apni zindagi.'