This time last year I was home alone, and pretty upset about it. I’m home alone tonight as well, but not upset. I’ve never voluntarily spent New Year’s Eve alone, which is quite possibly my most favourite time of the year. But this year, somehow, nothing materialized. I could have spent it with some friends, but I wanted to either party hard or not do anything. All or nothing. So I did nothing. I was working till 9pm anyway, so I came back home, ordered the most amazing food I’ve come to love after moving here, and am now watching TV. Some people in office asked me to their parties with pity invitations, but I didn’t need any. I am perfectly happy being home, sleeping in my bed (not surrounded by drunk people) after watching Bigg Boss and reading Liane Moriarty’s amazing novel. Is this called growing up or becoming boring? I don’t know. I don’t care tonight.
But one advantage of the absence of any scene is that I get the time to do a 2015 roundup. I might have changed blogs, but I’m still the same person with the same rituals. And 2015 deserves all the attention it can get. It was a landmark year in so many ways.
You know the logic of the book The Secret? How when you want something and keep thinking about it and sending out good vibes in the universe or whatever, you ultimately get it? I think I do that with sadness. I just assume that I’m going to be upset. I just assume that shit will go down. I just assume that I’m Murphy’s Pet. I should be the brand ambassador for self-fulfilling prophecies. When 2015 began, I told everyone that it was my quarter-life crisis year, with no evidence to support that. I just said it. And it happened.
It started with not being able to quit my job in January, and did not seem to end. I was unhappy all the time. At home, at work, in my countless trips to Delhi, in the middle of the freaking desert in Jaisalmer, even in Amsterdam – my first Europe trip – I was constantly upset or worried or super unhappy with my life. I was ungrateful, I was a horrible daughter and I was a nightmare to be around. I hated everything, and I hated myself. I had good reasons to be upset, but I wasn’t doing anything to fix them.
Sometimes I tried. I coloured my hair red. I gave up on the idea of quitting. I started Instagram-ing. I saved up all my money for an unformed grand plan. I met friends. I became better at staying in touch with friends. I wrote. I read. But I was still unequivocally unhappy. It had to change because it was killing me.
So I quit.
I don’t know how I got the courage to do that, because I loved the idea of having that job. There are still times, now especially since I’m back in Delhi, when I cannot believe that I don’t work there anymore. But I don’t. Somehow, in June, I gathered all my courage and quit. And this is one cliché I loved becoming, because it was the best decision I’ve made in a long, long time.
Right from the moment I sent my resignation letter, even before my notice period ended, I saw myself change. I got on that crazy diet plan which totally worked, I signed up for the belly dancing workshop, and I booked tickets to Bombay and Goa even before my last working day. One I stopped working, it was insane. I was super free and super busy at the same time. I remember friends warning me that I’ll get bored, that I’ll regret my decision, that I will go crazy, and none of that happened. I was prepared for it, though. I was ready to regret everything and be more miserable, but something had changed, and I wasn’t.
The sabbatical was a blur of zumba, vacations, cooking, weddings and a lot of dancing. I was thinner, prettier, livelier. People were amazed when they saw me. You’re glowing, I was told. I started wearing red lipstick more often. I started taking trips, I slept a lot more, I drove a lot more. I fell in love with many songs and celebrated whenever they came on the FM while I was driving. Being in Jaipur still sucked super hard, but I started becoming okay with being there.
I was happy.
And then, Delhi happened.
I got this job without much hassle. I didn’t have to go through the uncertainty of giving too many interviews, nervously waiting for an answer, writing too many copy tests. The ease with which I landed this job made me suspicious. Before I joined, I was ready for them to take it away from me at any point. They didn’t. I came back. I don’t even know how to explain my relationship with Delhi. I don’t think I understand it very well myself.
When I tell the story of how I left Delhi in 2014, I conveniently leave out the part where I should say that some part of me wanted to leave. My life was too messy here, too complicated, too dangerous. Now that I’m back, some of that comes back to haunt me. But I am very proud of myself for finally getting myself out of the most toxic relationship I’ve ever been in. I may not be 100% out, but I’m very close, and I have no intentions of going back, so there's that.
Coming back has its own set of challenges, of course. I hadn’t forgotten the travails of living alone, but I did romanticize a lot of it. But now, when I come back home to no food and a leaking gas cylinder, I don’t always burst into tears. Sometimes, I still do.
Despite terribly wanting to, I was certain I wasn’t going to come back to Delhi or get another job. At least not in 2015. But I did. So here I am, at the end of the year, trying to find my place in a new job and a new-old city.
I have no idea what 2016 is going to bring. I know my parents want me to get married. I know my biodata is out in the marriage market. Will I get married? Will I settle down in this job? Will I go back to my old ways and turn into the horrible, miserable person I was six months ago? I hope not. I have no answers, which is why, despite having what can evidently be called a great year, I don't know what to expect from the next one.
But if there’s one thing to be learnt from 2015, it’s that sometimes it’s okay to turn your life upside down to save yourself a little bit. I really, really hope that I don’t get lost in 2016. But if I do, maybe, perhaps, probably, there’s a chance that I’ll find myself again.
Happy new year, you guys! The blog saved me in more ways than I can count.
But one advantage of the absence of any scene is that I get the time to do a 2015 roundup. I might have changed blogs, but I’m still the same person with the same rituals. And 2015 deserves all the attention it can get. It was a landmark year in so many ways.
You know the logic of the book The Secret? How when you want something and keep thinking about it and sending out good vibes in the universe or whatever, you ultimately get it? I think I do that with sadness. I just assume that I’m going to be upset. I just assume that shit will go down. I just assume that I’m Murphy’s Pet. I should be the brand ambassador for self-fulfilling prophecies. When 2015 began, I told everyone that it was my quarter-life crisis year, with no evidence to support that. I just said it. And it happened.
It started with not being able to quit my job in January, and did not seem to end. I was unhappy all the time. At home, at work, in my countless trips to Delhi, in the middle of the freaking desert in Jaisalmer, even in Amsterdam – my first Europe trip – I was constantly upset or worried or super unhappy with my life. I was ungrateful, I was a horrible daughter and I was a nightmare to be around. I hated everything, and I hated myself. I had good reasons to be upset, but I wasn’t doing anything to fix them.
Sometimes I tried. I coloured my hair red. I gave up on the idea of quitting. I started Instagram-ing. I saved up all my money for an unformed grand plan. I met friends. I became better at staying in touch with friends. I wrote. I read. But I was still unequivocally unhappy. It had to change because it was killing me.
So I quit.
I don’t know how I got the courage to do that, because I loved the idea of having that job. There are still times, now especially since I’m back in Delhi, when I cannot believe that I don’t work there anymore. But I don’t. Somehow, in June, I gathered all my courage and quit. And this is one cliché I loved becoming, because it was the best decision I’ve made in a long, long time.
Right from the moment I sent my resignation letter, even before my notice period ended, I saw myself change. I got on that crazy diet plan which totally worked, I signed up for the belly dancing workshop, and I booked tickets to Bombay and Goa even before my last working day. One I stopped working, it was insane. I was super free and super busy at the same time. I remember friends warning me that I’ll get bored, that I’ll regret my decision, that I will go crazy, and none of that happened. I was prepared for it, though. I was ready to regret everything and be more miserable, but something had changed, and I wasn’t.
The sabbatical was a blur of zumba, vacations, cooking, weddings and a lot of dancing. I was thinner, prettier, livelier. People were amazed when they saw me. You’re glowing, I was told. I started wearing red lipstick more often. I started taking trips, I slept a lot more, I drove a lot more. I fell in love with many songs and celebrated whenever they came on the FM while I was driving. Being in Jaipur still sucked super hard, but I started becoming okay with being there.
I was happy.
And then, Delhi happened.
I got this job without much hassle. I didn’t have to go through the uncertainty of giving too many interviews, nervously waiting for an answer, writing too many copy tests. The ease with which I landed this job made me suspicious. Before I joined, I was ready for them to take it away from me at any point. They didn’t. I came back. I don’t even know how to explain my relationship with Delhi. I don’t think I understand it very well myself.
When I tell the story of how I left Delhi in 2014, I conveniently leave out the part where I should say that some part of me wanted to leave. My life was too messy here, too complicated, too dangerous. Now that I’m back, some of that comes back to haunt me. But I am very proud of myself for finally getting myself out of the most toxic relationship I’ve ever been in. I may not be 100% out, but I’m very close, and I have no intentions of going back, so there's that.
Coming back has its own set of challenges, of course. I hadn’t forgotten the travails of living alone, but I did romanticize a lot of it. But now, when I come back home to no food and a leaking gas cylinder, I don’t always burst into tears. Sometimes, I still do.
Despite terribly wanting to, I was certain I wasn’t going to come back to Delhi or get another job. At least not in 2015. But I did. So here I am, at the end of the year, trying to find my place in a new job and a new-old city.
I have no idea what 2016 is going to bring. I know my parents want me to get married. I know my biodata is out in the marriage market. Will I get married? Will I settle down in this job? Will I go back to my old ways and turn into the horrible, miserable person I was six months ago? I hope not. I have no answers, which is why, despite having what can evidently be called a great year, I don't know what to expect from the next one.
But if there’s one thing to be learnt from 2015, it’s that sometimes it’s okay to turn your life upside down to save yourself a little bit. I really, really hope that I don’t get lost in 2016. But if I do, maybe, perhaps, probably, there’s a chance that I’ll find myself again.
Happy new year, you guys! The blog saved me in more ways than I can count.
