Random Ramblings II

Hello my pretties.

Today’s exactly four months since I first arrived in Sydney. Sometimes I feel like I've been here forever and sometimes I feel like I've just landed. But it’s been a great 4 months. I never knew you could fall in love with a city, but I sure did. We have two weeks to go before the semester officially ends and our finals begin. Assignments, deadlines, and a general lack of income aside, college life is just grand.  Much has happened in the past months but it is 1:45 in the morning and I'm lazy. So here are some stray observations:

1. The weather in Sydney is crazy. It supposed to be spring now but I'm not really sure. It was 34 degrees on Sunday and then 9 degrees on Monday. It’s fun to see people be so stubborn about the weather though. Two months ago, in peak winter, 9 degree weather meant thick coats, stoles, boots, and cap. But this week, all we wore was a light jacket. (Coz its spring foo!)
2. The women here are GORGEOUS. Tall and slim with beautiful Blake Lively hair. It was first quite disconcerting to me especially since the best thing you can say about my looks is that I have a nice personality.  Then I chopped of my hair so now I look like crap on purpose. Wee.
3. The entrance to the Central Station tunnel smells like manure. Not pee. Not poo. Manure. I don’t understand. Are they trying to grow vegetables in there? 
4. I've started saying ‘Jeez’ a lot. I really should stop. It’s not pleasant when I suddenly blurt it out when I'm talking to people at church. These guys are really “on fire for the Lord”. I'm there for the free soup. 
5. Darling Harbour is quite literally my most favourite place on Earth. It’s barely a 1.5 Km walk from my place. My perfect evening involves walking to the Harbour and watching the sun set. I'm usually accompanied by a Starbucks Caramel Hot Chocolate (it tastes like liquid Quality Street chocolates!) and an awesome playlist. (In other news, I have not lost a single kilo.)
6. I have accidently ingested octopus. Note to readers: When asked about what’s in Takoyaki, do remember that people are more interested in the octopus part than the tofu part. I'm not the biggest fan of either. But I do like sushi. And of course, by sushi, I mean cooked tuna and avocado rolls.
7. In August, we had this Clubs Day, where different university clubs put up stalls and you could sign up for whatever you liked. I joined the Chocolate Society and Amnesty International. Mainly because they had a chocolate fountain and a goodie bag. I also joined the choir and the book club. Then I quit the choir. For now at least. 
8. Postgrad studies is not a joke. We have 3 hour lectures for each subject once a week. So with only 4 subjects a semester, you’d think this would be a breeze. But nooo. We have 16-30 page papers to read before each class and then we have 15-page essays to write for each subject. When we whined about our essay topics in class, our professor just said, “Welcome to post-graduate education”. It’s rough, but I love it. My favourite professor looks like Santa and swears like a sailor. On the plus side, I can now appreciate proper literature. On the other hand, I rarely have time to read anything.

Of course, then there’s the guilt. That I am here because Rajeev never will. That part sucks. I miss him. I miss home. But if these past few months have been anything, it’s therapeutic. Here, where no one (or very few) knows what happened, I can be anyone. I can cry when I want to (and I have) and laugh when I want to (done that too) without having to think about how it would affect anyone else. This freedom is both exhilarating and terrifying. But I can’t explain how grateful I am for it. I can treat anniversaries of events as regular days instead of scary milestones. It doesn't always work though, I’ll admit. But as a friend told me recently- Every minute you dwell on the negative is 60 seconds of your life you’re never getting back. And that’s true. I do not want to repress any emotions. Not any more at least. But I've also begun to understand the need to strike that balance between suppressing your emotions and wallowing in them. Like all extremes, both are easy but neither is very  helpful. I need to remember that what happened in July 2011 was lousy but it was not the only thing that ever happened to me. Good things happened too. Like June 2010. Like the 365 days that followed. Like so many, many other days. I can’t let one event define who I am, even if it was the single worst thing I could have ever imagined, even if it is so darn easy to let it take over my life. I'm more than one event. 

There’s this one quote that my favourite professor often mentions. It’s by T.E. Lawrence, also known as Lawrence of Arabia, and I absolutely love it. Here goes:

“All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.”

P.S. Thanks to some wonderful suggestions from some wonderful people, I’m considering making a new blog about my “shenanigans” here in Sydney. With pictures and everything. Stay tuned! 

One Year Later

It’s the 27th of July. A year since Rajeev died. One whole year. And a day. Sometimes it feels like so long ago. And sometimes it feels like yesterday. To be honest, I don’t know which one is worse.


Most of Rajeev’s family and friends consider the 26th of July as the worst day of their lives. But not me.  Mine was the 29th of June. The day he got sick.  How do you describe that one moment when you realize that nothing is ever going to be the same again? That irrespective of how it turns out, you’ve still lost the man you married? As terrible as the past months have been, for me, they are still better than that one month he was sick. Sometimes I wish I was not so stubbornly optimistic then. At some point, I even stopped listening to the doctors because I was so convinced that Rajeev was going to get better. Even on the day he died, when the doctors lost all hope, when they called the pastor to anoint him, I was still convinced that he was going to wake up. I remember standing there, holding Raja’s hand, as the pastor anointed him.  And I was so angry with the pastor. “How can you anoint him??” I screamed in my head. “He’s going to wake up any moment now!” Like some lame-ass soccer mom, I was coaxing, encouraging, even daring God to make his miracle already. But then again, considering the extent of Rajeev’s brain damage, perhaps death was the miracle. 


It still sucks though. 


Today I’m literally half a world away from everything I know. I’m sitting at my desk in my apartment in central Sydney waiting for my family to come online to Skype. A lot has happened in the 13 months since Rajeev got sick. I often wonder what life would have been like if he never had that tumor. I can just picture us in the brand new apartment that we were so close to buying, with one maybe even two kids in tow. If nothing else, I wish I could just ruffle his hair. I was the only one who was allowed to mess with his hair and boy, did I abuse that right. He made my life so infinitely better. That one year we were married will always be the happiest year of my life. I know I spoke about wanting to be extraordinary and what not earlier, but truth is what I would really like, is just to be happy. Sometimes I wonder. Will I ever be that happy again?


Maybe not. 


Maybe.


I believe that happiness is more a choice than a circumstance. I’m grateful that it’s a choice and I’m grateful that it’s a choice I am able to make. I know that the way I have been in this past year hasn’t been very widow-y. I haven’t been curled up in some corner waiting for the Dementors to arrive. I’ve done more new and different things in the past year than I have in my entire life. That’s gone over well with some. Not so much with some others. But then I remember something my dad told me just after Rajeev died. He said that while Rajeev was super close to a LOT of people, no one is going through what I am going through. (Which, of course, does not mean that what the others may be going through is in any way better or worse than what I am, it just means that it’s different.)  It’s a wildly liberating concept, I tell you. It pretty much changed my life. And then I saw this TED talk about a snowboarder named Amy Purdy.  She got sick and had to have both her legs amputated and then had to get prosthetics. After months and months of depression, she suddenly realized, “Hey. I can have any size shoe I want!” It made me think. “Hey. I can have ANY life I want!” And so here I am. One year later. Halfway around the world. Waiting for my MBA classes to start. 


In this past year, I’ve read a lot about how people handle grief. But the best one I’ve seen so far is from Genesis 43: 30-31 “Deeply moved on seeing his brother and about to burst into tears, Joseph hurried out into another room and had a good cry. Then he washed his face, got a grip on himself, and said, "Let's eat.”


At the risk of sounding super corny, all I can say is that Jesus did not die so that I become a victim. 


I will always miss Rajeev. And I will always love him. And yes, I will always feel awful when I think of what could have been. But when I do feel sad, I (like Joseph) will hurry into another room, have a good cry, wash my face, get a grip, and move the heck on. 

Tada!

Guess who's moving to Australia in two months??

Well, for two years at least.

Just goes to show ya... sometimes life may have to suck but sometimes, it gets better. 

Random Ramblings

Sometimes, when I’m feeling blue, I go online and read blogs of other women who lost their husbands. Most of these blogs are about 3-4 years old and I like that because I imagine that it would be me 3 to 4 years down the line. Some of the ladies have children, some do not. Some of the ladies are now in new functional relationships, some are not. It’s a diverse crowd out there but the one common thread is they are still sad, still angry, still depressed. And I think “Aww Hell No!”  I understand that the blog is not a reflection of every minute of every day of their lives and that it is an outlet for that one moment in their day when everything seems hopeless. But it can get discouraging for us newbies.
But here’s the thing- it’s not hopeless. It’s NEVER hopeless. What’s the thing that Dr. Seuss once said? “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose…..”?

‘Course I don’t always feel that way.Sometimes, just like that, out of the blue, I remember that I am a widow. And instantly, I feel like such a fraud. What the heck am I doing singing and organizing church events? How can I laugh or goof around?  Shouldn’t I be sitting in some corner somewhere bemoaning my fate? How can I be painting my nails or dancing in my car? In that instant, everything I do feels so wrong and horribly disgraceful. But then I realize- I may be a widow, but I am not JUST a widow. I may be Rajeev’s wife. But I am also Sampson’s and Leena’s daughter. I am also Shivonne’s big sister. And Swilin’s and Sherlin’s little sister. I love my husband and I will never ever forget him- not the way he’d say “Yeayaah!” when he was excited about stuff, not his ridiculous love for Structure jeans, and definitely not that he remembered what I was wearing that Sabbath in July 2008 when we met for the very, very first time (almost a whole year and a half before our parents thought about matching us up).I will never ever forget how much I love him or how much he loved me. But I will also never forget that I am more than just a sad, depressed shell of a human being. I’m alive. And I’m kicking. And I’ll be damned if I don’t let that work for me.

Another Long Post

March 18th, 2012 would have been Rajeev’s 33rd birthday. I would have made it a big deal because, in addition to my husband, I also love palindromes and multiples of 3. But mostly, I would have made it a big deal because I love my husband.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle that day. As the day approached, I felt more and more panicky. Until one day, my sister Shivonne finally got fed up of my shenanigans and told me, “Sher, get it together! It’s just ONE day!” But it was just one day in the same way Hitler was just one dude. But she’s right. It was just one day. So instead of wallowing in self-pity, I faced a few fears and then pampered myself with a pedicure and a trashy novel. It wasn’t stellar, but it was deal-able. And for now, deal-able is quite enough.

But not always. Sometimes there just aren’t enough pedicures or trashy novels. Sometimes I just don’t know how to deal. Sometimes it hurts so bad that I almost wish I had never met Rajeev.

Almost.

Sometimes.

Anyone who knew Rajeev, knew that he was passionate about music. He was also alarmingly attached to his iPad. I used to joke that if the iPad and I were trapped in a burning building, he’d probably save the iPad. “What about your wife?” – I’d ask. His response? “I hear there’s an app for that”. Hmph.

But I digress. Yes. So. The one thing that Rajeev was truly, truly passionate about, was music. And he was terrified about the possibilities of ending up with a girl who wasn’t. I remember the first time he ever called me up. It was the first time we really spoke actually. We were so terribly nervous. See, when I get nervous, I get super chatty and friendly. I may even drop a couple of swear words in my desperate attempt to seem cool. But Rajeev was the exact opposite. He used to get super formal and business-like. The first 10 minutes felt like an interview and he used douche-y words like “horizon” and “paradigm-shift”. It was super awkward until we started talking about music. I still remember his answer when I asked him what kind of music he liked – “I like everything from Madonna to Metallica.” To which I replied “Which Madonna. Coz if you say ‘Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina”, I’m hanging up right now.” And then he laughed. And then we were fraaands. But despite his love for hard rock and his hopes to find a girl who understood it, Rajeev also wanted a fairly traditional kinda gal. Someone who was independent yet liked to take care of a home and family. In fact, one of the first questions he ever asked me was if I knew how to make dal.

Growing up, I did not have too many friends who shared my tastes in music. It is hard to meet other girls whose idea of a perfect solitary afternoon was decorating cupcakes while listening to Wolfmother. I wasn’t edgy enough for the rocker chicks and I wasn’t homey enough for the domest(ch)ics. It bothered me. I thought I was weird because I did not fit into a stereotype. It was years before I became comfortable with myself. Well… comparatively at least.

People would often comment on how well Rajeev and I suited each other. We had such similar tastes in music! Oh what a happy coincidence!

But there’s more.

As a kid, my entire world about music revolved around my big sister. She’d come home for the holidays and she’d bring us bags and bags of Mad Comic books, Civic lip gloss, and yes, lots of brand new music. She was the one who introduced me to Roxette and Def Leppard (and, in a moment of weakness, Ace of Base). I started listening to music pretty much because of her. At that time, she used to study in Pune, along with Rajeev’s sister. And sometimes, on weekends, she’d even crash at their place. And guess who was on hand to introduce her to all that awesome new music?

See, I wasn’t meant to fit into stereotypes. I was meant for Rajeev. I can moan and groan about why this had to happen to me. And some days I don’t even want to get out of bed. But it’s gratifying to know that Raja’s and my story is so much bigger than just the two of us.

It’s hard though. Sometimes I feel like I’m becoming the exact opposite of the person Rajeev loved. I was never known for my saccharine goodness, but I was never suspicious and cynical either. I know that I cannot afford to be the naïve, trusting person that I used to be, but I really, really don’t want to end up this shriveled up ball of bitterness. Oh what a waste of life that would be. I want to be happy. Genuinely, unashamedly happy. And not because it’s “what Rajeev would have wanted”. Because as much as I’d hate to admit it, “what Rajeev would have wanted” doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t let it. As much as I love and miss him, Rajeev can only be a chapter. Not my whole story. And hopefully one day, I’ll stop feeling so guilty for thinking that way.

My sister told me the other day that I WILL get through this. And I thought “No. I AM getting through this.” My way may not conform to everyone else’s idea of how I should deal with this. I will not cry in front of random visitors who I know mean well. I will get monumentally pissed of whenever anyone, not biologically related to me, brings up the topic of remarriage (Seriously. What the what!). I will laugh. I will sing. I will joke. And when I feel really sad, I will cry. (‘cause face it, crying can only help you so much. I read this the other day- “Crying doesn’t indicate that you’re weak. But it doesn’t always solve your problems either.”)

So yeah, I will not get through this. I AM getting through this. I am. I am. I am.

I think.

A Very Long Post

Hello my pretties. (Plural because now I have conclusive proof that there are more than two of you out there. Evelyn Anandam, Nisreen, Mehj, Deena, and my fraaands in New Zealand, you make my heart smile.)

It’s been a while, no? For some time, it was on purpose. See for me, writing is all about feelings and I was quite fed up of all the feelings of the past few months. So I decided, with my ridiculously finite wisdom, that I was going to quit writing for a while and start focusing on something more “outward” like photography or cooking.

Therefore, in the past month, I baked exactly one batch of brownies and took a grand total of two photographs. Here is the one I am less ashamed of.

(It looked better on my phone.)

I took a month-long vacation last month. To explore the world, find my life’s calling, you know, to eat, pray and love. Oh, who am I kidding? I spent all of last month sleeping, eating junk, wasting time on 9gag.com, and watching every episode of 30 Rock known to man.

It was glorious.

I also used that month to think. And I thought about a lot of things.

I thought about change.

• About how I went from having a lot of free time to having no free time to having a lot of free time.
• About how I went from being super-brave to Courage the Cowardly Dog. I was the official lizard exterminator of the family. In fact, it was one of the first “Most Important Conversations” that Rajeev and I had while we were still dating. I asked him “Rajeev, do you promise to protect me from all worm-like creatures?” and he said “I do”. And then he asked me,” Sheryll, do you promise to protect me from all lizard-like reptiles?” and I said “I do”. (No wonder we were so chilled out during our wedding ceremony. We had already exchanged the vows that mattered.) These days, even my ringtone scares me.
• About how, for one full glorious year, my entire life revolved around doing my best impression of Martha Stewart. I was cooking and cleaning and doing laundry. I look back now and think “Who IS that person??”
• About how ridiculously short my hair is now. I went to the hairdressers the other day to get my hair trimmed. Once I got there, I decided to throw caution to the wind and get a brand new hairstyle. I wanted a slightly longish pixie cut, but my hairdresser, Peter, wanted me to get a bob. So we compromised and did it his way. I now look like Maria Von Trapp if she was a 1920’s flapper.

I thought about life and death.

Well, mostly death. I remember that the one thing my family was totally freaked out by was the possibility that I may continue to internalize all my feelings and then one day, do something drastic and irreversible. I get it. I can understand why they would think that. And truth be told, I’d understand if someone else in a similar situation would have done that. But I don’t think I would. For at least two very important reasons:

1. I’m a total wuss. Really. I don’t even eat chili bajjis. Forget that. I did not even eat green peppers till I was almost 20 years old. Why? Because they looked like giant green chilies and I was afraid they they’d be too spicy and burn my mouth. (Somewhere out there, the god of Telugu cuisine is weeping.)
2. I know it’s not “proper” considering my circumstances, but I just can’t help but be curious and excited about what the future has in store for me. Think about it. It can only get better, right? It’s like something I said to my mom the other day. That the best thing about this world is that no matter what you do or how much power you have, a day will only have 24 hours. And no matter how long that day feels like, it will get over. And a new day will begin. And it will go on and on until the sun burns out.

I thought about God.

God and I have been having a bit of a complicated relationship these days. Do I think God could have healed Rajeev? Without a doubt. Am I angry that God did not? More than you can imagine. Do I think that God did not heal him on purpose? Yes.

But that’s the thing you see. I do believe that God let this happen on purpose. And my logic dictates that to do something on purpose, you need to first have a reason. And that is what gives me hope. Sure, right now, no reason is going to be good enough. But who knows what the future holds. I know that my atheist friends will have a ton of things to say about all this, but I have to say that the one thing that keeps me going is my faith in a supernatural being who made me. For a purpose. A faith that there is a heaven, that there is someone out there who can see the big picture. It makes me believe that extraordinary lives are made of extraordinary events- whether it is extraordinary happiness or extraordinary sadness. I’m thankful that I got to have both.

I know my life is not going to be normal and ordinary. And of course, I’d pick having a normal, ordinary life building a happy home with Rajeev over having an extraordinary life any second of any day. But I can’t do that. I may not have THAT option but I DO have two other options. I can choose to spend the rest of my life wallowing in sadness and think about what could have been and how “unlucky” I am to not have that. Or I can choose to take what I have, do something with it, and be extraordinary.

I'm going to choose extraordinary... after I have this cookie.