On the Bad Days

Hi Sugar,

I hope you're in a happy place, with good people and even better friends. I hope you've got that annoyingly positive vibe about you. Smile stuck on your face, eyes full of dreams.

But there are bad days. There are days you want to stay in bed all day, because the world outside seems so cruel. There are days you feel burning hate coursing through you. Days when your heart aches and your eyes aren't dry. I want to say I hope you never have these days, but I know you will.

You know, there is no formula for recovery. There's all that hogwash about picking yourself up and dusting yourself off and making positive decisions and reclaiming your life and leaving the past behind. That stuff might even be true, yet there's a little part of me that doesn't see the difference.

I've had bad days. I've wanted to stay in bed, cry and eat Nutella (that works by-the-way). And no, I haven't fully recovered. I still want to scream hate at times, point out injustices and maybe detest the world a lot.

Aaaaand I survived. Here's a little secret for you. You will survive too. One day, maybe soon even, this gigantic, mammoth pickle is going to be over. It's going to end. That's all. You'll be fine because nothing in this world is permanent and problems & heartaches are temporary. Finish crying and tell yourself that.

You know what happens after that? You'll be a little wiser, a lot more careful and ready for your next gigantic, mammoth pickle. You will survive any hell that life throws at you, not just because you're one helluva fighter, but because you'll only have to fight a little more.

You're my brave, strong and ferocious girl. Keep fighting.

Till next time,
Mummy

I'm Wanderlost.

Hello pet,

Someone once said, "A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it." I often wonder where he went off to; lost his way in the Himalayas? Fell in love in Paris? Ate his heart out in the Americas?

I've lived all my life in Bangalore. The streets are more than familiar now, the faces are unforgettable. The traffic was never always the way it is now, and the air smelled sweeter. I've strolled on Gulmohar carpets, stuck its natural talons on my fingernails. Kaapi is my favourite, its decoction the first scent that greeted me every morning. Home was not just a little building in Hennur, but every street, every friend and all the dosas I ate.

When I left Bangalore, I knew there would be no replacement. I was devastated at the thought of saying goodbye to familiarity. Packed my bags, held in my heavy heart and turned my back to the greatest city in the world.

I've been to several cities since, several beaches and several highways. At every stop, my heavy heart got lighter, till I left a little piece of me where ever I went. I always wanted to go back when I left, and yet always yearned to go somewhere new at the same time. The Bangalore I know is now not a heart-tugging force pulling me back, but a fond memory of a beautiful yesterday.

Is there a name for this feeling? I hear it's called Wanderlust. It's a bittersweet, ambitious, pleasant, dreamy feeling. Your feet are foreign to the ground, and your bags are always ready to go. Your bank doesn't agree much, yet you align your pennies with ticket discounts.

I want you to feel grounded, I want you to know the comfort of Home. I want you to have a place to look back at with happy tears, and I want you to know that there will be a warm meal and a cup of fresh kappi waiting for you when you feel like it.

Yet, I want your geographical loyalties to be free. To not be bound but to be ever-changing. You must go, to the Himalayas and the Andes too. You must learn the value of 'entertaining a thought, without accepting it.' You must understand cultural differences, yet remember that a loving touch and a kind word are universal gifts.

Yes, I want you to be Wanderlost.

Signing off,
Mumsy

The Fat Side

Hello my child,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. Good health. The pink-cheeked, sound mental state, normal blood pressure kind of health.

I live in a Fat world. My cheeks are puffy. Denims don't fit. Every person around me is thin. There are benchmarks in my head, pretty people with pretty clothes and even prettier lives. Even my jokes are about myself. This, my love, is the picture of a single day in the life of a chubby girl.

What you need to know is that this is not normal. It's not okay to hate your body and abuse it with a tirade of expletives while you're combing your hair in the mirror. It's not okay to feel inadequate, to live a life of comparison.

Fashion glorifies the slim. Mannequins parade clothes I can never wear. Relatives and friends are very concerned, constantly offering you the benefits of green tea and oats. Free advice really should not be a thing. Social media is not fat-friendly. Look at all the fat jokes people share. The movies have skinny heroines, who find love at the drop of a hat, directly associating the human figure and the prospect of a happy life. The weight of a warm, human soul is lost.

Why is the world this way? Why have greetings evolved into "You've put on so much weight!"? Will this change? Ironically, the word 'fat' is thrown around lightly.

I want you to know that I love you, and all of you. Not just the thin parts, not just the collarbone that shows itself off. I love you, whether you're fat or thin. I love you, and I want you to love yourself. Eat well, eat healthy. Yet, don't hate yourself for a few pounds. They can go away, should you choose to let them.

You're a beautiful, loving girl. You're kind, you're ambitious and you're exceptional. Your figure didn't get you there, you found your way there yourself.  I hope you know this, and if you ever doubt that, read my letter. I love that girl in the mirror.

I need to sign off now, but not before I leave you with a nice, sloppy, fat-free kiss. Stay beautiful.

Love,
Mom