One Day at a Time

Counting the number of issues I have is a futile exercise. Why waste time when I know that the answer is a long list. The only way I redeem myself is by acknowledging the fact that I know I have issues. I have even written about my many issues in the past. Thanks to a lack of readership on my blog and of my journal, I have kept my issues quiet. It's good when only you and your mind know about these things. Sometimes, issues are to be dealt with in private. That way, no one gets to contribute "advise" on how to deal with the issue.

2014–2015 had been particularly challenging years. I saw a noticeable dip in my happiness metre. I was frowning more often, was stressing a lot, sprouted a few gray hair, and had been generally disillusioned with life. I guess one of the reasons was shifting jobs and adjusting to new places and management styles. Three years in my first job were quite comfortable. But barely 5 months into my third job I felt trapped. Thankfully, though, it was not just me who felt that way; all of my colleagues felt it too and quit the place one by one.

But it was not just the job taking its tool. I was fatigued, sick, and unwilling to participate in social events. It was scary, and when I feel these emotions now, I get scared again. At first, I wasn't sure of what was wrong with me. I thought that a lack of exercise was making me lethargic and gain a lot of weight. That is half the truth. The other half is the lack of mental well-being, unfortunately. That is something I still fight every day to maintain.

Though my really dark days are far behind, every time I get a hint of any darkness, I spiral downwards pretty hard. I form a cocoon around me and retreat into myself. Thankfully, it takes a lot of bad mojo to get me into a funk now. Every day, I am able to maintain my optimal measure of happiness and even spread it to friends who really need it. So, when darkness approaches me, you can bet alarm bells start ringing from miles and miles away.

Today felt like a particularly bad day. I got a lot of bad stuff thrown my way by people who "meant well" but ended up ripping my life apart. Of course, it all started with my gender and my single woman status; quickly moved on to my career choice; my financial status; what I was doing wrong; and then ultimately, what I should be doing to make my parents and others happy. Sure! My happiness does not matter in any of these matters.

It's easy to tell someone to ignore verbal abuse, hurtful criticism, bad feedback, and snide comments. The hard part is to throw it out of your head once it registers there. Gosh, I wish I was drunk when I was subjected to all that talk; I would have really loved to not remember any of it. The only solution to get over this hurt is to gradually forget about it - give it a month or two, occupy your mind with other things, and avoid the people who hurt you for a year or so. That's the best I have come up with so far. What do you think? Does it work for you too?

Thing is, when I am thinking about all this hurtful commentary on my life, I get physically sick because that is how criticism works on me. My brain gets all mopey and all my body wants to do is curl up and die. It is so difficult to get through a day with this funk going on - the struggle between your brain and your body when you try to think happy thoughts and get by. And this is why darkness is scary. Dark thoughts are always around the corner, lurking to grab me again and ruin my day. Even after promising myself that I wouldn't let them harm me, I don't know if I can keep up to it. Trudging through life one day at a time is a hard task that only people who've been through what I have gone through will understand. Or maybe everyone understands. They are just fooling innocents like me by thinking of happy thoughts and faking joy. At least they're succeeding.

Falling in Love with Words

By now, most people I know know how much I love books. Correction. How much I'm CRAZY about books. Last year, I started the challenge of reading 24 books and finished 30. Only one book was left unfinished. Or half-read, as I like to call it. This year, I aim to cross this mark.

Things have been different this year, though. Last year's effort made me fall in love with words. Words written well and seamlessly woven into stories. Stories of fantastic people and breathtaking locations across the world. Stories that glorify everyday life into extraordinary events. Stories that make normal people into amazing superheroes with their deeds and words. Stories that inspire me to be the best of all that I am.

A couple of books I read this year were inspiring and so moving, I cried when I read them. Not because they had sad bits, but because the authors wrote the stories so lovingly, I wept as I let the power of the words sweep over me and engulf me. The number of times I bombarded people with my stories of "Oh my God, you've GOT to read [insert book name]" are countless. I am sure some of them ended up being annoyed at the constant repetition. What can I say, I am in love with books!

I have managed to cross half my target mark so far. Friends who started this challenge with me have already crossed their goals. This has made me both proud and jealous. Of course! While I'm really glad that more number of people in my life are reading and becoming more knowledgeable, I am worried that they may get so far ahead, they'll leave me behind in the dirt. A little competition is healthy to get me motivated and on track. Honestly, competitive booklovers, such as my friends, are the only kind of friends one should have. I keep reminding my non-reader friends about this and annoy them sometimes :)

With about four more months left in the year, I have tons of books still to read, and more books to buy in next year's book fair. Also, my birthday's coming up in September and I am hoping to receive more books then. That is something to look forward to: friends who love you so much, they gift you knowledge and adventure instead of silly things like jewellery and clothes. Of course, I return that favour too. I am now dubiously infamous among all my friends and colleagues as the girl who cannot have enough books and who cannot stop gifting or recommending books. If I could put that on a badge and wear it everyday, I would!

If you would also like to participate in a reading challenge like I have, I recommend signing up for the Goodreads 2016 book reading challenge. It's a great way to keep track of your friends' progress and update your own progress on Facebook. You could also end up encouraging readers and non-readers alike with this. If nothing, the fact that you are reading books regularly, or even on and off, will pique some people's interest. So, recruit them into your reading circle and inspire them. After all, the world will be a much better place if more people read more, and read varied genres.

Happy reading to you, my friends!

Book review: The Bastard of Istanbul – A Journey Into the Past

When I read The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Safak, the first thing I noticed is the writing style: it is exactly like the mind of a woman. There are multiple stories starting off from the main story, plenty of segues, colourful characters to distract you, in addition to the characters and their quirks. It has to be said that the characters seem to suffer from some sort of attention deficit disorder. However, if you have ever grown up or experienced an Asian joint family, you’ll know what I mean. 

If you’re wondering why I said the book seems like the mind of woman it is because it is multitasking all the time. The author and the characters are in situations, but thinking of random and connected things at the same time. I got the sense that the characters’ bodies and minds were often in different tangents and I feel that this often happens with women more often than it does with men. Women are thinking of so many different things at once and still manage to stay sharp and coherent during conversations. I still wonder how.

At the heart of this delightful book is the story of two young women and their history. One of them is chasing her past, while the other is in blissful ignorance about it. The book was worth reading just to discover their histories. I had known about the Armenian genocide of 1915–1917 and Turkey’s refusal to acknowledge it. Sadly, not many people know about this because it doesn’t occupy popular history as much as the Holocaust does. As readers, I would advise you brush up on the Turkish and Armenian history post the Ottoman Empire. Not only is it fascinating, you’ll get interesting points of view, for example, the Janissaries’ Paradox.

In a book about women by a woman, you will learn about the oppression that happens to women. Despite Istanbul’s cosmopolitanism, one gets a glimpse of the old-school ways – and I don’t just mean male oppression, but ancient magic as well. By the end, almost all the characters will be your favourites because there is no villain here. Or is there? (We did mention that there was a genocide, didn’t we. [Winky face]) 

I would recommend this book as a one-time read. (I gave it three stars on Goodreads.) I would also recommend looking up the author’s other works. She’s got impressive credentials and she writes her books in English as well as Turkish. In addition, she makes wonderful arguments about reading in the book. That was enough to win me over.

Book review: On Writing – A Memoir of a Life Well Lived and Stories Well Told

The only thing I had known about Stephen King in my 26 years on God’s green earth is that he has a penchant for shocking his readers. I had mostly associated him with horror stories, only to be proven wrong when I recently came to know (or rediscovered this fact) that he had written The Shawshank Redemption. That movie was anything, but terrifying. So, I have resolved to read the tons of Stephen King books (including Carrie) that my brother has accumulated over the years.

Now, on to the book I am reviewing here. The first time I read about Stephen King’s memoir On Writing was through a review in The Hindu’s Young World. The book was highly recommended for all aspiring writers. I think I was 11 or 12 years old at that time and had just started publishing my stories in the school magazine. Buoyed by the review, I kept on writing and resolved to buy the book whenever I had the means.

It has been more than a decade since then and I finally have the book. It was gifted by a friend and is, undoubtedly, one of the best books I own. King is frank and does not bullshit. He says that writing is hard work and needs persistence, something I discovered on my own as well. King does not harp on his successes, but focuses on how the hardships he faced – including a brush with death – shaped his writing. It was endearing to read how success is not about some mantras, but struggling again and again.

The focus of his book is firmly on two things – the process of writing and the support of his wife, Tabitha. King worships her, and this is evident throughout the book. One of the interesting things I learned was how he writes books keeping Tabitha’s likes as a reader in mind. The term King uses is “Ideal Reader”. Before Tabitha, it was his mother who encouraged him (even paid for his works). King asks writers to write keeping their IRs in mind – what would make them laugh hard, what would cause them to be surprised and shocked, and importantly, would they love the book/story. This was enlightening. Until now, I was writing keeping my “audience” in mind – a faceless and generic group of people with different likes and dislikes. With such a vast group, one obviously cannot cater to all sensibilities, and may, therefore, end up failing. I am now going to write keeping my own IR in mind – someone whose likes and dislikes I know very well and someone who will laugh out loud when they read my works, not someone who would just nod appreciatively. The latter would do nothing to help me improve my writing. My IR should be my biggest fan, worst critic, and muse. It’s just a matter of finding them! :)

Honestly, this book is very frank about the success King has seen. It did not come in a day, but it can go away with one bad story. I usually do not like memoirs because they tend to sugar-coat, make people appear grandiose, and skip over the harsher life events. King does not pretend to be some demi-god. He says that his ideas have appeared doing the most mundane things, and as an amateur writer, I agree with that. The brain is not constantly churning bestseller ideas, but it is the writer’s job to translate their ideas into work they and their IR would be proud of. 

 I would recommend this book to everyone, whether they plan to write or not. I am not one to judge memoirs because I have rarely read them, but it is the best I have read. Hopefully, you will agree with me. If not, you will at least love his writing style – it is conversational and feels like you are talking to a friend. Now if that isn’t motivation enough to read, I don’t know what is!

First published in Metro Reader.