Mid-Life Crisis

I have these grand visions of my future. That I will be a well known writer by 50, will have  hugely successful children, will be surrounded by my family and friends, and will die at 70. By then I will have a decent number of wrinkles on my face, adequate fat on my already plump self , still be physically and financially independent and will have my mental faculties intact. 

By that yardstick then, mid life crisis should have hit me at the mid-point of 35 years. Instead , it hit me just about the time I turned 40. And continued for a good two years. The mid-life crisis took me completely by surprise. I thought mid life crisis was a joke.  When my husband turned 40, he got into fitness in a big way. This lazy man would get up in the mornings, lace up and go for a walk or run and actually joined a gym for weight training too. I used to tease him that he was trying to hang to a youth that was in a rush to leave him. 

When it hit me, I realised, to my great anguish and consternation,that mid life crisis is  very real. And can turn your life completely topsy turvy.  The good news was -  I was not alone in this misery -  it hits nearly everyone - in varying measures ofcourse. 

My midlife crisis began with my walking out on a job I loved. Disney was my dream company and I was doing extremely well there . I wanted to do something else - write something that added value to me, instead of creating preschooler books that are available by the dozens in the market. When I walked out my job, I walked out on a life. A life that was full of colleagues who added value to my life, friends who brightened up my work day, and a brand name that was critical  to my self-esteem. 

Life went downhill for me from then on. I had opened the doors to negativity because I was in such emotional turmoil. All that year, I struggled with finding my groove in terms of work ,and foolishly  took up an external assignment that was a disaster. My sister and I stopped talking because I was constantly taking off on her - on her life, her choices, her relationships, her job. I connected with some old friends, having quite forgotten that there was a reason I had deleted them from my life in the past. And that they would cause misery to me again. And they did. In ways worse than they had before. I questioned my life with my husband, and blamed him for all the choices I had made in my life. I would have walked out on him. I hated my house - it seemed to choke me. I partied hard. I am not too much of a drinker, but I drank a lot in those months. I took pills to help me sleep. I hated everything about my life at that point.

I consider myself a happy person. The thing I love the most about me is my smile. And yet, for almost two years, my heart refused to smile. It was so full of resentment. Of anger , of bitterness. I am not a negative person, and depression was an unknown entity up until this point. And I wondered how I would live the next few decades in this unhappiness. There was nothing to look forward to -except to see my kids study and settle down. And then what?

I fell sick. With a multiple liver abscess. I was hospitalised for two weeks  and then took another year to full recovery. It was almost as if I had so loaded myself with negativity that my body protested really hard. 

My illness became the starting point for my healing. It taught me. It taught me to value things that were important to me. It helped me analyze everything  with  a fresh perspective - relationships, work, what I truly wanted in my life.  It encouraged me to simplify my life, to let go of anything that caused negative energy for me.And it was not easy work. It was really tough infact. 

Why would I have a mid-life crisis I wondered? I was busy with work and home. I had loads of friends, I led an active social life and traveled plenty .I had a loving , indulgent spouse whose company I enjoyed.  I had everything one can ask for in life. 

I think these were the factors - 

• My 20s and 30s were spent taking care of kids and scheduling my day to meet the demands of my family. I selected times to exercise, to work , to socialize based on the schedules of my kids and husband. There were a million things to plan, organise and execute. I didn’t have breathing space. And then , as kids grew up, their demands on my time started to ease out. They did not need to be bathed, fed, their homework did not need to be supervised, they set up their playdates, and they wanted their own personal space. It opened up my time, and while that was exciting, there was a sense of my worthiness being reduced. As if I was not so wanted anymore. And when my younger one grew taller than me and I could not cuddle him anymore and fit his body into mine, my heart almost broke. I was not prepared for this. 

• There was a sense that I was losing time. I was already forty and had done none of the things I really wanted to. I wanted to write a book, go off on a holiday by my own and not be financially dependent on my husband. 

• I enjoyed (and still enjoy) the transition of my daughter into a young little girl. The way she dresses up, thinks, talks - I love it. And yet, there was a realisation that her youth was also paving the way for my growing older. The face that looked back in the mirror at me was not so young and fresh anymore . I could see wrinkles around my eyes. And my body refused to obey me. I was putting on weight, eating the same foods I always had. And even though I increased my exercise times and intensity, I was unable to lose weight. There was no defying gravity anymore. The physical changes horrified me.

• Life was going too smooth. So there had to be an upheaval!

I have seen the mid-life crisis manifest themselves in different ways for different people. Some quit high paying jobs to scratch an itch they have had for years. Yet others have full blown affairs with ex-flames or colleagues. Some take a long leave of absence from their families and go off on holidays on their own.Some divorce their spouses and seek a life for themselves. Others become obsessed with sex and porn. Yet others get tummy tucks and boob jobs to stem the relentless onslaught of age. Some drink more, some lose weight and yet others put on weight. 

And yet, these mid-life crisis years are not a lost cause. Since they throw you out of your comfort zone, they add to one’e personal (spiritual , emotional)  and professional growths. My crisis pushed me in the direction of what I wanted to do. To write. The more I hurt, the more angry I was ,the more I wrote. I wrote about things that hurt me, about things that mattered to me.  I wrote to ease the pain in my heart and the anguish of my soul. And writing was cathartic for me. It flushed out the bad, making space for the positive. And I ran - I had always wanted to run the Marathon and running became therapeutic for me. I did 4 half marathons in seven months. 

A friend of mine decided to make a movie, and even though she suffered from the angst of quitting a high paying job, she got her story and screenplay in order, and interned with one of the Bollywood directors to learn the ropes of the business - and is well on her way to her debut film. Yet another friend took to cooking - and has created a business of her own - creating delectable cakes and desserts. Another got a gastric bypass done to control her out-of-control weight gain and take charge of her life. A dear friend stepped out of the house after decades and got a job , that may not pay her much, but helps her maintain her sanity. Another friend trained hard and went to the Mount Everest base camp. 

When the mid life crisis blew over for me, there was immense gratitude that all was well in my world.  Almost all the people I know have had happy endings.  Even for the friend who walked out on her 15 year old marriage . If this phase made her realise that she could not carry on in a marriage that was without soul, then I think it was good for her. She has a chance to create another life for herself - one that will bring her happiness and hopefully love and companionship. 

The one thing that helped me get over this crazy phase is the incredible support I got from my girl friends. This was the bunch of women with whom I could  share what I was going through and who understood exactly how I felt. There was no judgement on my behavior, but counseling to make me feel better, to help me resolve issues. My girls did all they could to help me get out of my crisis. Some took me for chanting, others for coffee late at night, some ran with me, and those who were not in Mumbai were always a whatsapp or call away. I realised that there is great sisterhood among women. We all go through similar experiences at some point in our life so there is complete empathy. 

It may seem never ending but like all crises, the mid-life crisis passes over too. And when it does, we all need to do ourselves a big favor.  To not live in guilt because of whatever ‘wrongs’ we might have done. We are only human, and therefore have the right to make mistakes even at 40, have a right to question and seek a better life at 40. This phase screws our mind more than anyone else’s so we must reserve the right to forgive ourselves. 

I lived. My friends lived. And are in happier, more peaceful spaces today!!

Learning to Breathe

One of my oldest friends stopped by yesterday and remarked that I had not written a blog for months. And I told her that I had nothing to say. She looked at me strangely and commented,‘Really? I never thought I would see the day when you would have nothing to say!’

When did I become this? Since when did I have nothing to say? My kids call me a ‘social shut-in’  because I am not being social , not attending PTA meets or hooking up with other Moms to make friends in Scarsdale.  And my parents comment that I am working too hard at domestic chores and not attempting to get out there and get a job. And my best friend in Mumbai is terribly upset that I have become too distant - literally and figuratively. My friends worry that I am lonely, and/or the cold weather is getting me down.

I think  I am in a slow down mode. A sort of downtime really. I loved Mumbai - its energy, its pace . I went with the flow - and loved every moment of my stay in Mumbai. After all, in my whole life, I had never stayed in one place that long. Suddenly, I had around me an incredible number of great friends, colleagues and acquaintances. I had my siblings with me, and my kids were in the best school and doing fabulously.  I had a rocking life - great work, great friends, partying, socialising - everything you could want in a happy ,fulfilled life. 

I think the relentless pace got to me. Add to that the severe mid-life crisis that can hit anyone +/- 40 years and its accompanying insecurities and emotional upheavals. Looking back all the disasters hit me together - including the letting go of a dream job to chase another dream, the loss of a  dear friend, betrayal by some I considered my very own, and an illness in the family that rocked our very foundation .

The good thing about us humans is that when we are in a tough situation ,our energies are focussed on survival. Of getting through the day, of finishing a piece of work, of trying to bring some method to the madness. There is an unwillingness at that time to succumb to grief or let anxiety take you over. So when the phase is over, and life begins to brighten up, you suddenly think - OMG, that was the most horrible time of my life, and I survived!!

And now, so far away in Scarsdale, I feel I can finally breathe again. My family back home laughs everytime they Face Time with me and see me working , and my close pal calls me the Scarsdale Bai. But I enjoy it. The simple act of making tea, counting till 30 till my first flush tea brews to perfection. Of cooking a meal from scratch - cutting, chopping , frying and what not. Of doing the laundry and folding the clothes with ‘mindfulness’. Of dropping and picking up Praneet from the station. Of spending time with my kids, listening to their cultural experiences at the new school. 

For now - I am loving being alone. Going for long walks and discovering Scarsdale. Watching my favorite Game of Thrones with my breakfast. Writing. Reading. Sleeping early. Sleeping deep and long. I feel no pressure - of being well turned out, of having to make small talk, of being pulled in all directions, of my phone constantly pinging. No pressure to make friends, to keep in touch with anyone, to present a point of view or to get into a heated argument on any issue with anyone. 

Life has a way of giving you what you need. And I think this is what I had needed and not realised. A downtime to recharge myself ,my stretched patience and frazzled nerves. To slow down and pace myself out. To spend time with the people I love the most in the world. To finally be with myself. 

Knowing me , I possibly don’t have too much time in this phase . My hyperactive self will kick in soon enough. But for now I am content to be in this Slo Mo life. 

Happy Independence Day?

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As I read the various hoardings and pamphlets on ‘Freedom’ and ‘Independence’ , I am feeling a bit appalled this Independence Day. A sinking feeling that we are missing the boat completely. Wearing Indian colours , hoisting the national flag , singing the national anthem and eating tri-coloured mithai cannot be the symbols of a free India. 

I am constantly reminded of what Aatish Taseer wrote in the Stranger to History about Iran. While I don’t remember the exact words, an Iranian  told Aatish that they were naive in the 1970s. When they stood protesting against the Shah, they thought that was democracy - and never realised what they were losing. They lost their democracy, their freedom of protest and have lost themselves to the morality police and other regressive forces.

Thanks to the efforts of millions of us who want to cut corners and make a quick buck, or who want special privileges for being the educated class, we have unleashed havoc on our young democracy. We misuse the system through cronyism and only want to look after our, and our family’s interests - the rest of the world be damned. 

We have created an India we should be ashamed of handing over to our kids.

Even now, when the fruits of our labour are becoming evident - in the rapidly declining economy, in increased violence on the streets and against our women and children, the only way we are protesting is through Facebook or other social media. We continue to support corrupt political parties and politicians - shaking our heads and mumbling that things are out of our control. We continue to allow ourselves to get outraged over religion and caste - so it is little wonder that politicians use it to maximum potential. 

Even when we can stand up and help this country, we don’t. The latest case in point - the Uttarkhand disaster. The state is struggling in the aftermath of the natural disaster - but really, how many of us have contributed money or materials to start rehabilitation. The only chorus I hear is - the system is too corrupt and the money will not reach the victims - so there is no point. The truth is -all of us have all our limbs intact, and if our hearts were in the right place - we would have gone to Uttarkhand to provide support.

It is a piece of gossip how much money Robert Vadra has garnered, or how the politicians are twisting the system , but none of us are serious about bringing about change.

We claim pride in being Indians, but are silent spectators when the political parties come together to grant themselves more privileges, or take themselves out of the RTI. We remain silent when well meaning social activists are killed in broad daylight. We  know that the politicians control all land deals and big businesses through their set of family and friends , but none of us want to risk their wrath by taking out PILs. We all know the games being played out as the General Elections come up next year.

I think it is the Indian Middle Class, the hugely aspirational ,ambitious and upwardly mobile mass, that has let India down. As the educated class, it was our responsibility to bring change into the country - to be a strong voice that would drive policy and that would elect the right representatives for India. It was our responsibility to ensure that bureaucrats would run the administration. We let the country down.

Luckily for us, we still have a bunch of honest people who do their jobs well - without expectation of bribes and compensation. They withstand political pressure and arm twisting to do what is right - and those are the people who need to be saluted. And recognised. And applauded. 

If only we would join them, then singing the National Anthem would hold meaning. Then celebrating Independence Day would make sense. Then we may yet leave behind an India  our kids will thank us for. 

A Late Blessing

Little AbRam comes home to SRK and his family, and I am reminded of the time my baby brother  Paras was born. He is sixteen years younger than me, and I was absolutely delighted. Many years later, my school friends mentioned they were embarrassed for me – to have a baby brother when I was all grown up – but truly the thought never crossed my mind. Maybe because I was away at the hostel all those months !

I was fascinated – however. And totally in love with the little bundle that made strange noises and faces. And who brought much happiness and some irritation in my life too. He was the stepney who accompanied me everywhere – to the GK market , to the doctor, even to a date . He would not let me study, till I scared him with ghost stories and let him whimper on the side. He would lie down till I tickled him pink and he would come every morning, tuck his cold feet between mine and go off to sleep. And he loved listening to my stories. When I was looking at innumerable boys for marriage, he had only one yardstick- ‘can you do lip-to-lip kiss with him?’ And when Rano and I got married, he opened his heart unconditionally for his jijus and shares a fabulous rapport with them.

A late born child is a huge blessing. Paras came at the right time for my parents – when the empty nest was fast becoming a reality. He eased my parents’ pain of Rano and me leaving home to study, to work and to get married. While my parents missed us a lot, there were constantly busy with his school and college schedule. He kept my parents on their toes and kept them young.  I don’t think my parents ever got a breather to think about life and do things that people their age do. My parents are up-to-date on everything the younger generation favours – from music to movies , from cars to technology, from friendships and new definitions of relationships.

Paras makes my parents look at life through new eyes. At 60, my Mom wore her sneakers and took Paras on a two week tour of Europe - and had the time of her life by letting Paras take the lead. She loved Barcelona in the way Paras experienced it and enjoyed sitting at roadside cafes watching the world go by. My Dad dreamt of me becoming an IAS officer  and  settled for an MBA when he realized I did not have the drive or brains for that. But now, he exhorts Paras to explore life differently – and do things that he is truly passionate about.

Paras is the bridge between us and our children. His one niece and three nephews dote on him and he is their go-to guy everytime they want us to understand something juvenile. When Nishna is confused about a dress she has to wear, she asks Paras. And trusts his judgement, because I am too old and unclassy! And ofcourse, life has come a full circle – now Paras is constantly on his toes, because his tech savvy nephews manage to find things he does not want us to know!

Late born or not, Paras is the best brother ever…and the age difference does not stop us three from sharing our innermost thoughts and concerns with each other – in a manner that only siblings can.

I can only imagine how much happier SRK’s house just got! 

Of Mills and Boon and TDHs!

I picked a Mills and Boon off the shelf today -out of curiosity to see what had become of the books that fired my imagination when I was a young girl. 

Nishna was horrified - that her mother, who reads (sort of ) good books - would read something on a bought bride, whose new man wants her mind , body and soul - all willing and pliant!!!! I think she was ready to disown me!!!

But the M& B bought back old forgotten memories...of dusty circulating libraries in the GK M Block market  that were packed with these books. Of authors like Penny Jordan, Charlotte Lamb, Anne Mather , Carole Mortimer and Emma Darcy.  Of titles like ‘The Billionaire takes a Bride’, ‘ Bought Bride’, ‘Dark Dominion’, ‘Forbidden Fire’ and ‘Cruel Legacy’. 

Of TDH -Tall Dark Handsome men, generally super rich, with set jaws, unsmiling eyes, a rough manner with the heroine and sarcasm laden sentences .These TDHs were the ones most of us fantasised about...we wanted to be swept off our feet by dishy , brooding, men of less words such as these! Thankfully the fantasies were not disturbed yet by adulthood..when the TDH was replaced by a gentle loving person who would take care of us and demonstrate his love too!!!

The stories were predictable. The book would be a max of 196 pages. The first chapter would introduce the heroine, her sorry financial predicament , her beautiful eyes and lovely mouth , but there would be something of the plain Jane in her. By the second chapter you met the TDH - a business tycoon, with an arrogant manner, without the conventional good looks but an animal aura about him. The drama would continue till chapter 9 -  the heroine would feel all flustered around the TDH, the TDH may have had another girl, usually a glam doll, the heroine would feel that all was lost to her, coz she had the hots (oops, they called it love then) for the TDH who paid her scant attention, or hated her or felt nothing for her at all. Sometimes, there would be TDH’s mother too, who hated/loved the heroine. And then, when the heroine decided to walk away from it all, in Chapter 10, the TDH would confess his love for her, sweep her into his arms, run his fingers through her lustrous hair and kiss her with all his passion ....ask her to be his....and they would be together - after all!!

This predictability made the books so appealing!!! During exam times, I would be a frequent visitor to the circulating library. I would get atleast four books everyday. And in between the breaks I took, I would curl into bed with a M&B. I did not have to pay attention to the story, I could skip pages, go off to sleep, and come to the end of the book in 45 minutes flat. The book would clean up the clutter in my mind and refresh me for another marathon session of studying!! The best palate cleanser!!!

I am not ashamed to confess that  I loved my M&Bs. They were my first introduction to the world of romance, of intense feelings described in words, of men that you could dream about, of the way my own romance could potentially play out! It was a world so removed from my reality - of school/college , books, exams and the lack of interesting boys/men that I could dream of!!

The influence of M&Bs stayed on in my subconscious...So when I had to co-write a YA romantic novel with one of India’s leading novelists, I divided my story into plot, chapters,  crisis and denouement in the manner of the M&B novels! I wanted my young readers to feel the same feelings I had when I read M&Bs!!

And one day - I intend to write my own M&B!!! With my own TDH dude! 

The April Project

A six week break for 13 year olds coming into grade 8 at DAIS,  an enthu mother who thinks up a plan to occupy them , an even more enthu drama teacher who agrees to guide them and a bunch of hard working mothers - and you had the April Project that culminated into amazing drama performances yesterday.

A disclaimer - I was not one of the enthu moms - even though one of my darling friends saved  a front row seat for me!!

What seemed madness and daunting in the initial days had a method to it. Kids divided into groups and some of them took charge of writing the scripts. Some went out getting permissions for staging the play in a theatre and came up against inane bureaucratic red tapism; a bunch designed the look and feel and translated it into merchandise including flyers, invites, tickets, cupcakes, book marks, notebooks, magnets, key chains and t-shirts. Then there were production managers, directors and the cast. The crew that comprised of backstage people, on cue assistants, lighting and sound guys!! The final performance was the hard work put in by all the children. 

And the plays themselves were quite a revelation - on what thirteen year olds think about. So there was one play on finding clues to get to the killer, one that discussed church vs science, one that portrayed the blend of medicine and superstition in treating disease in Africa, another that was coming of age for both the father and son who had divergent professional views and a clever take off  on the School itself. 

The scripts were brilliantly written - there was clarity on what needed to be revealed, excellent usage of vocabulary, engaging arguments and tightness in the story. What amazed me was the thought that went into the plays - these were not frivolous plays - there was meaning at many levels. Kids pick up nuances of behaviour and interaction that we think they are not capable of! And I know for sure that the kids took no adult help for this - that made it so awesome. 

I wonder how the kids  had thought up these things! Science vs religion? At 13, I had not even begun to think of these things - I was only happy going to the gurudwara or mandir for prasad and thought JC was cool. The arguments supporting both - the church and science-  were logical. I learnt the difference between atheism and agnosticism yesterday!!

Playing on superstition to drive medicine?  The play on Africa and treatment of diseases was interesting -how well meaning doctors and medical professionals can use superstition and local rituals to actually make people adopt medicine! 

Ofcourse, my son wrote the play on the conflict between the father and son on the career the son wants to take. The son leaves home and i

s successful, the father is distraught and eventually commits suicide. I think the hidden message there for us was that we must agree to what Udai wants, else, we will lose him and our lives!!!

The take off on the School was outstanding. And the way it played out was brilliant....it was done tongue in cheek, blatantly, but in such a manner that you could not hold them to ransom!!!! This was one play totally for the audience that comprised of parents and other school kids, and there was laughter all around. 

At the end of the show, when all the kids came to take a bow, I was really awed....these are 13 year olds who had done such a brilliant job! And while we think this generation is not hard working and spoilt, the fact is that they are intensely competitive, argumentative and know where they want to go!  They are well read and aware, and sensitive to what ails the world. They dream of making a difference to the lives of others. The Cool, It factor is not about good looks, but includes intelligence, spunk and humor!!! 

Like my friend says -if i was 13 again, I would crush on all these kids!!! 

Happy Birthday!

‘You want a big party or a big gift?,’ asked Praneet  and a small part of me said ,‘Both’.

Seriously, I don’t get people when they say they don’t like to celebrate their birthday. Excuses range from - ‘I am too old for this’, ‘It’s just another day’ , ‘I am getting old, what’s the fun in that’ to ‘It’s my kids time to celebrate their birthdays’. And the biggest cliche, ‘I have everything I could ask for , so I don’t want gifts’! 

No matter what my age, and the fact that I grow older every year, I love my birthday. I still feel the excitement that I felt as a young girl. Being woken up at 12  to a cake and flowers by the family, hugs and kisses from all of them. Phone calls , messages and emails from people who remember my birthday, meeting family and friends for dinner or a party, and of course receiving all the gifts! And yes, wearing something new. 

Weeks before my birthday at the hostel, there would be anxiety on who would accompany me on distributing candy. (That candy is ofcourse no longer available. It was Parle’s multi-coloured , hard boiled candy and my fav used to be the purple one). It used to be difficult to decide on which special friend to choose because the others would feel cut up. And you could tell who was friendly with you at that time - friends would dig into the bag and take a handful (or many handfuls) while the current foes would either turn away or take one! It was a day the teachers would smile a lot more at me and I would get out of trouble with less stress. Later, back home , it became a day when my friends and I would go to Nirula’s for pizza and chocolate milkshakes or ice-cream and a dinner with my big extended family.

Birthdays are something to be cherished. This is my only life as Preeti Bakshi Singh and I love every bit of it. If every day has to be a celebration, then this is the Bada-Din. The day I was born to touch people’s lives (for better or for worse) and to experience life in the manner I am supposed to. 

And every year, I thank the year gone by - because even the worst years brought something good and valuable to me. And when I look back, no year has been particularly horrendous even if I thought it was at that time. Last year was my apocalyptic year of sorts -my sister was diagnosed with cancer and there was turmoil all around. But the year was brilliant too - it strengthened my relationships with my family , I rediscovered my best friend in my sister, enjoyed the onset of teenage years of my kids and I wrote and wrote!! I found more friends than I lost and I found my peace. 

More importantly, my birthday is the one that makes me feel alive, happy, special ,loved , wanted and above all - blessed - that I have been given so much in my life. It helps me get a perspective on what I still want to do and what I need to do to achieve it. Above all, this is all I know - I want to live a life that is happy, healthy and fulfilling, surrounded by people who love me and who I love. 

So that when I am older, with a happy wrinkled face, I can look back on all these years with fondness and say - I LIVED!