Monday, 6 January 2020

11.11


“you wanted some connection with him and retain your sense of aloofness from any romantic entanglement. he is the centre to both ends of the spectrum”

 Dear Friend,

I hope i can tell you this story in a way that will do justice to its beauty. I wish, for your sake, that you feel the way I did even though that’s the toughest part. How do you know you are saying enough and doing enough and communicating enough to people for them to feel the complexity of emotions that has been flowing through your system? If only i could answer my questions the moment I ask them....
This story could just be a statistic in a pool of stories that are told. An agglomeration of little fragments in time, that were long and short, but ephemeral all the same. But today, as i write this letter, I am warm from the inside out.  
Companionship is a beautiful word and a powerful emotion, it could either make you or shatter you and in most cases, you do not control what happens. This, that happened to me was unlike anything that has ever happened before, because for the first time in my life I let myself go, I let myself feel, I broke down my walls and let myself live through it without creating a controlled environment. I don’t have the heart to write about it as if this feeling is or was like something surreal and like a fairytale, because it was not and it will never be. Brief periods in time were hard, so hard, it was unbearable and it hurt in the gut so bad, but just like everything else, the good parts overwhelmed this part. I have never let the negative parts of my life cloud my judgements and make me decide on things, and I will never do that, I do not deserve that negativity. I met someone and suddenly everything broke loose. But unlike any other time, this time, for the first time it was different. Because he is not a statistic and with him, just talking to him about the random-est stuff felt like I was being heard, being taken seriously although his maturity made me feel like I had to be careful about what I say. It takes a lot of communication for me to even let myself establish a connection because that’s how much I don’t want to get hurt or did not want to get hurt and for so long I kept thinking that doing this was the best for me. All my life I have been constantly trying to keep myself safe, lay down rules to an extent where I stopped feeling anything, experiencing anything because I did not want anything to go wrong, I did not want to get distracted, I did not want to get hurt....
But with him, I wanted to break the rules. Run after stupid ideas, try the worst ice cream flavours, race him to get to the bus first or just walk 5 kms to get home, make excuses at home that I never had, to escape the wrath of my parents, just to have 5 more minutes of whatever this friendship was. God, just 5 more minutes.
And it turned out that even though it hurt a little, it did not distract me. If anything, it gave me the confidence to just let myself experience newer things. I had no expectations and I wanted nothing, absolutely nothing apart from a lasting friendship and companionship. Writing this, feels like walking on egg shells, trying to ensure that my selfish desire of experiencing something does not meddle with something that already is. I have never been here before, so it’s hard for me to understand where to draw lines, but conversations are supposed to be harmless right? Or maybe not. Conversations are the real trigger I believe. Words could ruin you if you say too much, but why does this friendship make me feel like words will never be enough to fully describe what it is, what it was.
 I knew nothing was to be but he stood there like the centre of both sides of spectrum and I fell for him. I expected nothing and I wanted nothing, nothing more than to just convey my thoughts. That’s all, that’s all that I ever wanted.
To me the easiest way to understand someone is through their stories through things they wish to tell us, not through the opinions of others and he had a very calming way of choosing his words before saying anything, as if the words in this world were limited and he had to make perfect use of every word so that he could do justice to them. This calmness reflected in his speech. He had a very quiet way of talking, something close to a whisper but audible enough to comprehend, crisp like the crumbling of dry leaves and listening to everything he had to say could be a beautiful hobby too you know?
I had to write something about everything that happened to me because there seems to be no other outlet. Maybe this is too mushy, too high school, too cheesy and I might sound like a teenage girl writing it, but I don’t have any regrets. I never will. 

Love always, 
Urja

Saturday, 15 September 2018

College

Dear Friend,


As much as I have tried to convince myself that it’s beautiful all the time, the fact that I’m in college, the truth is, it is not. It’s beauty is ephemeral, in moments, in moments that are fleeting way too fast for me to realize its beauty in it’s perfect sense, in it’s deepest and purest sense. I’m maybe just a statistic in the number of people who have not been able to understand the true emotion of being in college. Maybe there’s a protocol that we follow, generations after generations, that makes it easier to bond over what we call as College Life, in conversations 10 years from today. And this is what scares me. I’m afraid to look into the future, at myself, at a moment, where I can’t make conversation with people because I have lacked in the subtle art of experiencing college as an emotion. Yes. That is it. It’s an emotion and I could never connect to it.


There are different ways for people to quantify what they call as fun or adventure in life. I am not sure if mine is as mellifluous enough as everybody else’s. Every now and then, when we are working towards a goal, we see slight improvements during the regular grinds and more often than not, people around me have asked me to celebrate these little things. I have been asked to celebrate for every little victory that I achieve, but I can’t, I just can’t bring myself to do that, to enjoy small things. I appreciate them. But I don’t celebrate them. I don’t celebrate because I am torn apart from the inside with the feeling that, I don’t deserve to celebrate. And i have never been able to figure out why I feel the way I do, I have never been able to shut it off or let go of it.


My college life seems to be a accumulation of missed out fun and parties, of drinks with friends, of breaks after exams because I wanted to get back to my sport as soon as I could, of treks that I could never take, of friends that I could not make, of the grades I could not score, of awards I could not win, of a constant series of failures and heartbreaks that I’d hide in my pillows at night, of jokes I didn’t get anymore. But I’ve been happy in a very mysterious way I never thought was possible. I have been happy in the pursuit of what sets my heart on fire.


It hurts though, to be alone and on my own most of the time, to walk the streets alone and to share those little joys alone. But I think I’ll be fine. I still have one more year of college left and maybe the next post will be entirely different from how it is right now, or maybe it could be the same, or even worse. I don’t know. Not now at least. But I think I’ll be fine as long as I am chasing my dreams.


I don’t have memories I feel. I don’t have them. I don’t know what blurry drunk nights look like, what clicking with a stranger in a crowd full of unknown people would feel like, what running away to the mountains to escape the normal vituperation of people all alone would feel like, I don’t know what treks with friends or running in the wild with a gang of important people would feel like, I am not sure if what I do will quantify as adventure.


My feelings are so paradoxical I can’t even start to understand them. At some point, I feel like i’m missing out on all the fun in life and a lot of other times, I feel like maybe not. Maybe, fun to me is doing another set of throws or working on another research project, or thinking about a new video idea or playing the violin. I feel alive when I do more. I want to spend my life learning new things, new talents and I think I am at a place right now because of the choices I made. My best friend once told me that when you choose a hard life, you can’t even complain about life being unfair to you. It’s true though. I chose everything and I’ve suffered because of it and it’s okay. It really is okay. I am at peace with it.

Love always, 
Urja

Thursday, 6 July 2017

The Retzer Effect

Dear Friend,


Apart from all the experiences, memories and fun that travelling or pursuing your dream for that matter give you, it screws up your brain. It screws it up badly.

When you move into a new city in the same country, the feeling of newness is overwhelming and the same feeling is all the more intense when you move into a new city in a different country. Different place, different language, different people, different food, different systems and different bed. It’s not easy because you’re afraid, consciously or subconsciously that you won’t fit in, people won’t like you and that they’ll judge you. Maybe it is true, maybe you will never fit in, maybe people won’t like you and just maybe they’ll even judge you. But then these are the things that you experience initially. Things change. Like they did for me and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand how things changed or why they changed. But it was beautiful the way they did and it felt great.

I am going to name this transition from feeling awkward to confident in a new place as the “Retzer Effect”, after the guy who changed it for me. I don’t think he realizes that himself. I don’t think he realizes how he walks into people’s lives and leaves a mark that would never go, never fade.
Coming back to why travelling screws up your brain; it is because you meet new people and they kind of become a part of your life, even if it’s in the tiniest way possible, they do and you talk and grow close, become friends and things start to settle and you start to fit in and it’s time to go. You don’t know if you’ll ever see that person or those people ever again in your life and it hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts to know that life won’t be the same for the next few weeks until reality sinks in and you are able to get it into your system entirely that you won’t be seeing them again.

It screws up your brain, trust me.

I don’t know about other people and neither am I concerned about them, but I take time and it breaks me to know that I won’t be able to see them again.

I’ll miss the time I played UNO, I’ll miss the time people here tried to teach me German but the only thing I remember is “Gesundheit”, I’ll miss the time I played table tennis with this really amazing guy, who actually taught me how to play it in the first place and never got mad for all the times I missed a shot or played bad, I’ll miss the time when we shared all of our “balls” jokes, I’ll miss the time when we played basketball even though I was dead tired to move after the day’s gruelling practice sessions, I’ll miss the time when we sat on the park bench till late at night talking like old friends, trying to understand each other’s country better, I’ll miss the time when I sat at the breakfast table for a long time, hoping time would freeze somehow, I’ll miss the time when we sat outside the dormitory talking for the last time. I’ll miss so many things. Not just because it was fun, but because I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone like that again. I wished, I so wished that time would just stand still a little longer, that I could relive it again. But turns out I am another human being living in a world desperate to go back and make memories come alive, just one more time. Just one more time. Is it too much to ask for?


I know that it’ll all pass and that it won’t matter so much a few weeks later. But it does now and I cannot take it away.

It was beautiful while it lasted and I am unspeakably glad and happy to have known someone as rare and amazing and a beautiful human being. He changed the way I saw so many things and to some extent our beliefs matched a great deal.

I hope someday, we meet again, someday when it’ll matter a lot more than it did now, someday when I wouldn’t have to bid a goodbye forever.

Till then I’ll remember you, till then I’ll never let go of the hope of meeting you again, till then I’ll remember how I transitioned from feeling awkward to confident, till then I’ll miss you....

Love always,
Urja

Vulnerability

Dear friend,

It’s been a long time since my last letter. It’s been a little rough lately, but it’ll pass like it always does and then it will come back again like it always does.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon on a lonely park bench. I like it when I’m alone, you don’t have to confine yourself within the parameters of being socially and politically correct, which is very satisfying and peaceful.


A few minutes later, a lady walks past me and sits under a tree in the corner. I didn’t pay attention because I had my earphones on and I was reading a book. But after some time, I look at her and she was sobbing or maybe crying. You know the kind of crying where your heart is exploding into a million pieces and your soul is screaming and shouting but you try to suppress it, you try to cover your mouth so that you don’t make a sound and you want to fade away so that no one can see you. The kind of crying where you don’t want anyone around you, but a shoulder beside you and a hand on your back would mean everything to you. The kind of crying where you stop momentarily, but it all flashes back within seconds, flooding your memory with way too much more than you can handle, the kind of crying where you are so vulnerable, all that you want to do is, die.


It was something I would never forget. I couldn’t get myself to go to her and ask her what was wrong but it broke me to watch her falling apart like that. She was so vulnerable.

I wondered what was wrong. Did she lose someone or something? Did she have a break up? Did she break someone’s heart? Did her life fall apart? Did she fail someone? Did she lose hope? Did she see something or feel something she never had before? Or was this her way of letting all the anger and frustration out that maybe had welled up for a long time now?

I couldn’t know because I never asked.

I sat there watching her and then it dawned upon me, the times I have been this vulnerable and broken. Times when I could give anything, I could do anything just to make it stop hurting or just to make things alright, to make it go away. Times when I don’t know what hurts the most, the fact that something bad happened to me or finding out that I am incapable of making it stop hurting. I am not even sure if I can explain what feeling vulnerable feels like, or if you can explain what vulnerability feels like. Sometimes, it overwhelms your consciousness and you succumb to it and sometimes you can get back up and keep moving.

To have your guards down, to feel helpless and miserable; is there strength or is there weakness in feeling vulnerable? I don’t think I’ll be able to figure out.

I wanted to help her. I wanted to help her so much. But I guess I’ll never know what happened to her or what was bothering her, if she lived through it or not, there were just so many uncertainties about her that I would never know about.

How could I? I never asked.  

Love always,

Urja


Monday, 24 April 2017

Falling in Love

Dear Friend,

Love is subjective.

All of the 7.5 billion people will define it differently for you.

And no matter how silly it sounds, my kind of love is different too. I don't think I have ever loved anything more than I have loved my sport. I know that it my sound a little stupid to you, that the comparison that I am going to give you further is not very logical, but then in the end it isn't logic that makes you fall in love, right? It is emotions, it is the connections, it is that feeling that makes you restless and mad, it is that little thing without a definition of it's own, that little thing that needs you to stand because you will define it for yourself better than anyone else ever will.

And likewise, my love is different. I fall in love with what I do everyday. I cannot love my sport and love someone else simultaneously. It's an almost impossible event, an unthinkable thought for me. I can't tell you why, I can't justify why it is like that for me. But it is what it is.

I am not saying that loving is wrong. No, Loving someone, falling in love, feeling loved is probably one of the best things that you will ever experience. But fall in love with yourself first. Fall in love with everything that you do, that is more important.

I fall in love with so many things in a day that it drives me crazy sometimes. I fall in love with people, with things, and with my sport a little more everyday.

Fall in love with things that make you want to achieve it and that is your DREAMS. Fall in love with the hardwork. Fall in love with fact that you are alive. Fall in love with people. Fall in love with wanting to achieve your goals. Fall in love with new things.

Don't let love die. It is that one thing that needs to stay alive more than ever.

Love always,
Urja

Monday, 26 December 2016

Perfect Strangers

Do you know what the hell the abbreviation "IMO" means?
No, it's not the International Monetary Organisation if that is what you were thinking. It means "In my opinion" ! I did not know that.

Well maybe I am a little idiot when it comes to all these abbreviations.

So in my flight from Moscow, I got to sit beside this really amazing guy who told me about IMO and IMHO (just in case you wanted to be a little humble with your opinions). But then trust me, I have no clue as to how long we talked on that flight, but by far this was one of the best flights that I have ever been on. Not because the food was good or the seats were comfortable or anything, to be honest those things sucked big time. But because of the company that I had.

I do not possess the talent of shutting up and sitting down for 6 straight hours or to watch movies and not talk at all. I'm sorry, but I can't do that. And I am so happy that I don't do that because that makes me meet and interact with so many new people all the time and I have never valued any luxury in the world, that is greater than conversation. I like to connect with people, I love to know about people and I have said it before in my previous posts and I'm going to say it again, I love to listen and to know and feel and be a part of someone else's life story. It makes me feel alive. I learn so much everyday just because of that and it makes me really, honestly, truly happy.

Strangers are the perfect way to know the world. Every single person looks at the world in a different way and it amazes me.I see the world from a different perspective every time I meet someone new and it is the best feeling in the world. I have my own ideas and ideals, plans and actions, wishes and dream too and I don't know, I just love to see what it is like for the others too.

Nothing inspires more to be a better human being than ordinary humans themselves.

Love always,
Urja

Thursday, 1 December 2016

How do we define being "Socially Awkward"?

My Semester Exams are going on and I have Math next and I should be worrying about that and practicing like a mad dog or whatever, but I think I should vent out everything before I start with a calmer mind. Writing kind of simplifies things for me and I feel like I discover something about myself every time I do so.
Since this is not an essay, I would not be stating the Oxford Dictionary's definition of social awkwardness.
I went to a party last night. A birthday party, that clearly wasn't the kind of party I've been to.I am not saying that the party was wrong and it shouldn't have been the way it was. No. It was very well arranged, it was really nice. The food was great too. But My idea of a party is something where people talk to each other because we obviously do not know every single person in the party. Small talk, I used to believe is what usually breaks the ice. But what do you do when people don't want to break the ice, when they are not very interested to talk to you and when all that they want to do is click pictures? Nothing I suppose, you sit like a loner.
We live more in pictures than in the moment we're actually breathing in. Maybe it's just me and I might as well be horribly wrong when I say that, but I don't believe this is how people make memories. But then it's just me and my idea; people are welcome to their opinion. My family is a little different and we usually don't celebrate birthdays and stuff because we don't have the time to and it is just another day, so big deal. But I have been to birthdays and back home, our idea of a birthday was where people talk about various things, like sometimes the conversations go really deep and we share experiences, and we listen to each other. Everyone's got some nasty joke and we laugh till our stomach hurts. We don't give fake photo-smiles, that's how I'd like to put it, "Fake photo-smiles".
I believe there is genuine happiness when we actually interact with one another, share experiences. Isn't that how it is supposed to be? Ofcourse taking pictures is important to capture the memory, but it is not the priority, it is not as important as being in the moment.

The only reason I felt socially awkward was because people weren't willing to talk when I was trying to talk. But you know what? I would never tag anyone as "Socially Awkward". People either don't want to talk or are not able to talk, reason could be anything.

But even though I felt horrible and I felt like I could have cried yesterday after the party, I am glad I went to the party, it gave me this wonderfully amazing experience that I'm never going to forget. It taught me how to never make anyone feel like an outsider or you know "Socially Awkward".

Love always,
Urja