Pranaam yatri,
Yesterday, I stumbled upon an email from 2017.
I’d sent it to a friend (don’t remember the context, though). And somehow, it sounded like the first issue of Hastākshar – even before it became a thing. Coincidently, it had the same subject line as this e-mail.
So, sharing it here with the hope that my 23-year-old self can give you some gyaan.
“All our lives are equally fucked.
If you can understand this – congratulations! You can stop reading and go back to growing. But for others who are slow like me, read on.
I speak. A lot. Although it may not always be helpful for the people around me, it sure gets me into conversations. Sometimes deep ones (where you share ‘stuff’). And this helps me. Because I even get to listen. Over the course of the past six months, every ‘deep’ conversation I’ve been in has only one thing: problems. The pattern is that easy. Start talking about the good things in your life, and the conversation ceases to be ‘deep’. And what sucks more is that whether it’s me who’s cribbing or the crying friend on the other end, there is no variety in our problems.
It’s either self-esteem, money & career, relationships, fear of consequences, or purpose in life. I only have the choices of vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, butterscotch, and mint flavors for my ice cream. And now, I’m officially bored. Why can’t we feel sad about new things? Because perhaps there are no other things. The dessert parlor is kind enough to serve me scoops of hazelnut, pistachio, and cookie crumble, but in real life, no chef creates new flavors to satiate my wants.
I’ve tried becoming one of those self-proclaimed health-conscious guys these days (the ones who don’t eat ice cream, aka don’t have problems). I want to lose weight (be happy), but I’ll need to stop eating ice cream. So I tried this: After dinner, I go to the dessert parlor, order my favorite flavor (I’m in the self-esteem phase right now), and then look to imitate the people who don’t stop by for ice creams. They just walk by confidently without eating (or even looking at) ice creams.
With tear-filled eyes, I curse myself for being in the ice cream store. I try hard, but ice creams always find a way to come to me. Sometimes, a friend offers to buy me one, the ice cream van driving by tempts me, or I may open my fridge to find that a family member has gotten a large box for all of us. I’m unlucky – who can’t get by a day without ice cream. That’s so sad and depressing. I hate myself. This ice cream problem is getting out of hand. I need to start the diet immediately.
Last evening, I was determined to ask one of the confident, healthy people to tell me the secret to be able to live without ice cream. I went to the store, had my fill, and spotted a smart, healthy girl walking by. But I couldn’t gather the courage to ask her for help as she passed me (self-esteem issues, remember?). So I went behind her, keeping a distance until I amassed enough bravery.
She walked for some time, suddenly took a sharp left, and, to my horror, entered the biggest ice cream store I’d seen in my life. As she licked the mint ice cream off her cone, I kept my face straight and walked past with a thumping heart. It was clear: everyone eats ice cream. Everyone has problems, and everyone has the same problems.
My friend tells me that I’m smart and I also write very well. But despite being a brilliant writer and an intelligent, self-aware individual who can impeccably describe every emotion he feels, I can’t dare to face most of them. The same friend who doesn’t share my self-awareness is much more focused on his career goals. He has achieved brilliant results by being calm under pressure. Yet, there are nights we both cry ourselves to sleep.
I want to stop being stupid. I don’t want any ice cream in my diet. But that’s not going to happen. Irrespective of how good or bad our day is, there will always be ice cream after dinner. The most we can do is choose the flavor. I’m going to have chocolate tonight; what about you?”
