The Days That Had to Happen
Some things from Many things
I never used to edit blog posts for the first two years of writing. Mostly it was because I conducted the business of writing like I ran an illicit drug business. Also, I didn’t people at home would have a favourable reception to me putting out my life and thoughts on the internet. Blogging back then was a way of getting my messed up the teenage mind to anyone who cared to listen. I wrote my blogs on a feature phone and shared them via Bluetooth to the common laptop in the house. I quickly ran a half-hearted spell check and got it posted as soon as I could. I deleted all traces of the draft the moment it went live. The point I am trying to get across is that my not editing or rewriting a post was something that arose from a situation than a choice. Editing on the phone was a nightmare, and I didn’t want to get caught writing a blog on the common PC. This is not something I am proud of, and the deficit of editing shows considerably in my first blog1 But something good about this was that I never obsessed over the aesthetic of the post. I poured my heart out, put it out for the world to read, and hope that people would take notice. Some would be bad, some would be good. Some people let me know when it was good.
I am in the process of cultivating a more intricate writing routine now. There is a virtual idea board, and there are drafts in the first paragraph, untouched after the first spark of inspiration. Then there are active ones, which I return to every couple of days to scribble something on before I let it be, and then there are the ones left with just the last couple of sentences left. Rarely some strike of genius will help me complete something left untouched for the last couple of months. Sometimes, a stray notification breaks the chain of thought of what I thought was a promising page-turner, and they gather virtual dust in some part of my workboard. Over the last couple of weeks though, all my literary prowess has dried up. I can’t write a couple of sentences to stick o the Idea board.
I have come up with a series of reasons why I can't write something to post. It's the same reason why I have made it my mission to build a FIFA 14 squad just by recruiting young talent. I am chronically ill and have lesser autonomy over my life than I used to. I don’t have the luxury of being able to sit at my desk till I regain the chain of thoughts that brought me to the desk in the first place. If I am at my desk, I need to make the most of my time and staring at the screen doesn’t really fit into my framework of making the most of my time. So I thought, I’d try to make something readable from the numerous single paragraphs on my notion board. If you are reading this post, it means I was successful.
A universal aspect of all illnesses is the surrender of autonomy. Even if you are just having a fever, you surrender a minuscule part of your personal autonomy. So when you are faced with a more chronic illness or extensive treatment plans, you surrender larger parts of your personal autonomy. Being on a stretcher is perhaps the most tangible form of this surrender of autonomy. You cant move, & even your vision is limited to the fast-moving ceiling. Beyond these physical limitations, you slowly become irrelevant in everyday conversations. People transporting you or waiting by your bedside take part in numerous conversations; of which you fail to be a part. People take over your life, make decisions for you, and decide what you eat, wear and use. You are essentially stripped of your personality.
When you finally attempt to claim back your autonomy, you meet with two hurdles. A lack of constants in life, and the lingering physical limitation from your illness. I personally have identified three constants in life; prayer, football and recovery.
Football is something I have held on to from the day a retired professor of orthopaedics frowned at my diagnostic reports. I continued playing as long as my body let me, and now that I can’t anymore, I watch Football with more fervour than before. A few of you will relate to this, but I’ll give you something. I genuinely teared up when Real Madrid was crowned European Champions some months ago. I was on traction then, so when Marcelo lifted his 25th trophy at the club hours before he announced his retirement, all I could do was weep it out.
I’ve been associating myself with Real Madrid for at least eight years now, but it has only been a couple of years since I started watching matches religiously. Real Madrid has a shaky fanbase in India. That’s one of the cons of supporting a team that is known for having a star-studded team. People fail to see the team as a whole, people focus on individuals. When individuals fail to perform, they find it hard to accept. Also, when a team keeps on winning, it becomes harder to accept defeat, to accept that there will always be a period of low when the team rebuilds itself. Honestly, the inability to accept this is what’s driving Catalan fans crazy now.
I remember reading Famous Five for the first time. It gave me a sense of joy nothing else had ever been able to. Over the years, I‘ve read multiple books, and each book has felt good. Over the last couple of months, I’ve felt this feeling fade away. So much so, that I picked up an old book last today. I didn’t read the book, but I watch the mini-series adaptation of the book.
Looking for Alaska is somewhat cliche. It has a set of characters who have problematic lives, fighting odds to get to a coveted place. They fool around the place, engage in deep conversations, and go through a great tragedy. There is a sort of catharsis at the end. But again; it’s cliche. However, there is some stuff I like in the book. There are a couple of conversations; there are some well-portrayed emotions, and I’ve always imagined how it would be live away from home. I thought college would teach me that, but life at college feels far easier than life at home. There are fewer responsibilities, to the point, college life seems luxurious at times.
Nevertheless, I miss college. I miss the drone of conversations in the cafeteria, the silence of the library and the nods of recognition we would give each other while slaving away on deadlines. We were a messed batch, owing to the pandemic and other stuff. But I guess there is some camaraderie left in our batch. They came together when circumstances required them to, they stood up for each other, and now that I am not there, it seems like they are having a whole lot more fun. There’s this one line from “Looking For Alaska” that makes a lot more sense now. It’s nothing fancy. It goes like this. “These are the days that must happen to you”.
I guess they do. I read, wrote, and matured a lot more during the 6 months of being ill than I have in two decades.
Until Next Time
You might like this Sylvia Plath poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49013/tulips-56d22ab68fdd0
As always, thank you for writing 🧡