This time last year, Ana and I were taking early morning boat rides in the backwaters of Alleppey and circling around rice paddies in the middle of the night to secure every last drop of toddy we could get our hands on.
On one particularly adventurous night, we decided to spend all night drinking our hearts out on a deserted beach in the middle of nowhere, carefree (careless?) and happy. We had a flight back to Mumbai the next morning but we couldn’t give a fudge. The things we did and felt in those two weeks seems so far away and unfathomable today. Sharing tables in crowded bars; eating lunch at a cycle repair shop; spending two hours walking around massive tea plantations smelling every different variety.
Since this trip, I have aged more than I expected or wanted to and along with all the age, a tiny bit of wisdom has cracked through too. Instead of the usual goal making and inspiring journaling, I’m rereading Jenny Odell’s How to do nothing and inspired by my friend Afreen’s hobbies, I’m strategizing about befriending my neighbour’s cat. Instead of judging myself according to capitalist metrics of productivity, success and efficiency, I’m priding myself in the fact that against all odds, I made it through the year. I kept myself sane and I managed to smile amidst all the chaos and pain. I held onto old friendships ever so strongly, I forgave beyond my capabilities, I loved more than I ever knew possible. I killed a total of 9 plants, I drove a scooter and I saw my parents smoke a joint. Yes, you read that right.
So, this end-of-year, instead of gifting myself calendars and planners, I’m gifting myself a well-deserved vacation with no work, no reading, no social media. Just a shit ton of great food and alcohol, and my film camera. Expect lots of vacation pictures and (hopefully) writing in 2021.
Until then, thank you (all five of you) for reading my sometimes strange sometimes serious but always sincere thoughts. Thanks in particular to Anoushka Zaveri for making me less afraid to write.
okay chalo 