Posts

The survival of friendships

I’ve been thinking a lot about the survival of friendships and why some last longer than others. Friendships sometimes feel stifling to me, like the other’s presence shrinks your lungs, while at other times, friendships feel like all the good things: freedom, love, joy, kindness, effortlessness. That kind of friendship, the easy kind, is something I have been blessed to have in life. Remember that moment in Fleabag, when the Hot Priest talks about how scary love is, making it something we don’t want to do alone? Well, love is scary, but I’d also like to point this out: “The world as we know it mostly focuses on how hard love is – all suffering and sacrifice and so on – but no one really speaks about how easy love is when you get it right. Because love is easy when you get it right, when you are given it right.” This was how the ‘Slices of Life by Marianne David’ column began in The Daily Morning last month, and this is something Marianne and I had spoken about before the column mad

Thirty

 And so I turned 30.   A few years ago, I was convinced I wouldn’t make it to 30. It didn’t seem like I was destined to live a long life. And I didn’t want to. I have never really thought about my future. I never thought about life ten, fifteen or twenty years from now. I didn’t think about life post retirement. I never planned around old age, like some people seem to do. The closer I got to my 30 th birthday, the more I realised that I was likely to make it to 40. It still felt far away, but it also felt like I would live to see another decade. Anyway, here I am, living the first day of my 30s. Two people asked me this morning if it feels any different. Leaving my 20s, and welcoming my 30s. And I said it doesn’t. There’s no magical element to birthdays. You are still the same person, with the same problems or concerns and the same life. And while I do have those odd moments of realising that I am getting older, I’m actually looking forward to my 30s. I feel like life is getti

Availability, dating, love, etc.

There’s a line in Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends where, towards the very end of the book, one character says to another: “You know, I still have that impulse to be available to you.” This line struck me when I first read it, because it seemed to describe simply what love is: an impulse, a desire to always be available for a person. Now, when I first read the book, I hadn’t really dated, but later, when it happened, I saw how this simple need to always be available to someone wasn’t love. Not necessarily. Not always. It was sometimes a sure-fire way of hating yourself and perhaps even hurting others. I don’t like dating; I’ve vowed to never date. And the reason is this sense of availability, this sense of giving it my all. I haven’t particularly liked any of the, let’s see, two people I can say I dated, even though it’s a stretch, really. But in both instances, there was no real attraction to the person. They were available and bored. I was available and bored. Quite roma

2022, a year of loss and other things

(Before we go any further, I do need to say that this post isn’t meant to hurt anyone or remind them of things of the past. It’s not meant to be mean, or make subtle digs at anyone. It’s not meant to lead to conversation. This post is for myself, in hopes that by the end of it I will see that 2022 wasn’t an entirely bad year)   Things wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t reflect on 2022 like everyone else, so here goes: A look back at a year that was peppered with more than just a pinch of loss. And not just in the form of death.   It started at the very beginning of the year. Literally. A friendship ran its course, and of course, if we had both been perhaps kinder to each other, this would be a story for 2021. But we waited too long, so while the year will not be forever remembered by this particular incident, it will always remind me of it, which isn’t ideal, because this has been a year of forgetting. Forgetting people, drawing a blank when people say we’ve met before, not remem

Monsoon

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Before the monsoon rains come really hot days. They are unbearable. Amma would look at the sky, heavy and grey, and say, “It’ll rain today.” King coconut water brings some relief, but usually the days are spent with a certain restlessness. You sit in front of the fan, realise it does no good, walk to the veranda, hope for a breeze. And then finally, like a crack of thunder – and sometimes, accompanied by thunder – the clouds finally surrender and unleash torrential rains upon on us. By then, it’s a relief, even though we know floods await us. Weather warnings will keep the fishermen away from sea. The gloom and doom of a rainy day will only be brightened by umbrellas of all colours. You feel the cold, the damp in your bones. There’s a dull ache in your joints, and your pace slows. There’s no point in rushing. That relief you felt when the heat finally let up? It’s gone now. You are impatient for those warm, dry days, when buses didn’t splash muddy water on you and you didn’t have

hootenanny (On dating and figuring things out)

Word of the day: Hoontenanny An informal session at which folk singers and instrumentalists perform for their own enjoyment Let's talk about dating. I had issues with physical contact and intimacy for the longest time. Just two years ago, I stood in front of the mirror, tears in my eyes, coming to terms with the fact that I was probably going to end up alone. I thought I was asexual and while asexual people can be in relationships, there was also a lot to do with commitment, romance, love and a fear of heartbreak that complicated things in my mind. This is obviously a personal post, and I may even revert it to drafts. But I think this is something I need to talk about, for myself. To make sense of things. I spent my mid-teens and most of my 20s not really dabbling in dating or relationships or anything like that. There was obviously the lack of opportunity (I'm man-repellent) but there was also a fear of disappointing the other person or misleading them. I felt like it would be

Friendship, as an afterthought

Friendship has always been something intense, requiring a level of commitment and investment. You give your friends your time and energy. A part of your heart, space in your life. You spend time with them, even there is no purpose for that meetup. You care about them, look out for them, and remember things about them. Maybe this is a rather childish idea of friendship. Do adults really have the time or energy for this sort of thing? I'd like to thing that some of us do. This is why I sometimes have trouble making new friends. If we share a moment that so clearly paves the way for some sort of future together and you don't make an effort to reach out, I will take it as a sign that you are not worth it. If you can't understand the expectations and elements or components of friendship, then one of us is going to deal with more hurt than the other. But to some, I'm realising, friendship is almost an afterthought. They are flippant about it. They won't invest as much tim