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Would you hold my hand..if I saw you in heaven? I’ll find my way through night & day..beyond the door, there’s peace I’m sure: A Love Letter

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Angry, Heartbroken, Lost, Relieved.

True Life: I Don’t Process Grief. I pretend nothing ever happened & run to take care of the person who may have been affected the most, and then one day, I feel personally victimized by the Regina Georges of the Kübler-Ross Model & explode all over my nearests & dearests. Here is a hopeful attempt at not having that happen this time around..mostly thanks to my “baby” brother’s influence. “Just write it out”..the Shiv Vaishnav version of UNK. This isn’t for clicks, likes, or shares. This is for my family..& for all of my hearts that are hurting right now as much as I am.

My Ba’s (grandma) letters were legendary. Coveted hot commodities that the whole family would earnestly hope to receive when there happened to be a big event in their lives. The only reason I have ever thought of rushing to get married was so that I could get one of those handwritten scrolls of love, advice, and strength from my best girl. Now, she’s gone..& it’s time that I wrote a love letter to her instead.

Dear Ba aka My Miss Universe,

I’m mad at you. You weren’t supposed to leave me..ever. The educated part of me seems to have disappeared because all I can think of is that you were supposed to be way past chronological aging and live longer than even me. Back to back strokes at 88 and you were up and writing and walking and feeding your crows. Triple hip fracture surgery at 92 and off you were strolling around Gamdevi like you were still 80. You spoiled us; I selfishly thought you were indestructible & that no one would dare take you away from me. 100 was so close & I had already planned everything we would do together for that big day 6 years from now. And then you left more than 6 years too early. And then you left without me. And I’m mad at you.

Married nearly pre-pubescent in a time where women were uneducated, timid, and there solely for procreation, you did more than give birth to 6 children. You taught those children the importance of character, dignity, self-respect, & especially a sense of humor. You taught them the difference between truth and falsities, you gave them principles, you taught them empathy, you showed them how to live with honor. You educated those children, you disciplined those children, you taught them how to be open-minded and open-armed to one and all, and you gave those children unconditional love that I’m sure I’ve seen in every mother, but just somehow not like your special magical kind. And those children have passed along the priceless lessons to theirs and those kids to theirs and so on. You have a strength and a will power I have never seen in my entire life and I’ve been blessed this whole time to be able to feel it and witness it and have pride in it. And I’m mad at you.

You taught me how to not be afraid of fear. You taught me that a woman could do anything with the iron will that you made so infamous in our world. You showed me that tenacity and a pure heart are all you need to get through this life. You made me see that action is greater than intention. You expressed the unbreakable bond between a mother and her daughter and gave me the gift of having that particular relationship with both you and my own momma. You showed me that freedom of speech is more than okay, that it is necessary in this life. You allowed me to see that respect is earned by the life you live and the unselfish deeds you do. And I’m mad at you.

You sang to me more sweetly and with more talent than Lata Mangeshkar ever could. You held my hand when I slept next to you in a single room with a ceiling fan; you being willing to turn on the AC for me even though you knew you’d need extra chaadars (sheets) for yourself. You stood over a hot stove at odd hours because your grandkids wanted only your thepla, no one else’s. You gave me a miniature Hanuman Chalisa because I told you I was suddenly afraid of flying but I’d do anything to traverse the 10,000 miles to see you & to this day, when I’m on a plane I pretend that Hanumanji is holding the plane up & leading it safely to its destination. You told me that marriage isn’t the be-all and end-all because in the words of Beyoncé, “All the women who independent throw ya hands up at me.” (you said that part a little differently than I wrote it just now).  You also told me that I deserve love because I have the capacity to give love..and that’s all you really need (that, and a non-ass significant other). 😛 You tried to read the English headlines of The Times of India while I tried to read the Gujarati headlines of Garvi Gujarat and we both succeeded because we are both stubborn and persistent and obsessed with learning new things. You made sure you lit the deevo (lamp) every time I left Bombay for protection and for safe travels. You knowingly let me walk into a flying cockroach because you thought it would be the most hilarious thing, and it was..to you. And I can still hear that jingly giggle as you watched 17-year old me flail about in abject terror, you mischievous child in a geriatric body. You let me play in your saris..the one I still sleep with..the one I made sure always stayed with your fragrance still lingering within the threads of the feather-light fabric. The sari that used to comfort me for the past decade & a half..the same one that now half-comforts me and half-tortures me as of this week. And I’m still mad at you.

I feel like Voldemort. Like my soul has been torn into multiple pieces, but without the darkness or the whole immortality situation..& definitely not on purpose. You always had blind faith in your Kanha that he would lead you where you needed to be and where you would be peaceful..& you left me and mom during Ganeshotsav..so I’m kinda mad at Them all right now too, for tainting mom’s favorite time of the year. But I must get by and “move on”..at least that’s what they tell me. I think what I’m going to do instead is just listen to your voice in my head over the past 3 & a half decades..& be confident and safe in the fact that you will lead me to the place of acceptance without the anger or bitterness of losing one of my best friends in this universe. I’m a little less mad at you.

You loved me like I love you..limitless-ly, abundantly, inimitably. You have finally been granted your last wish over the past few years..to be yourself again; free, independent, strong, and angelic. Your legacy is something that will last long after my own last breath because all of your 6 children, 14 grandchildren, and 18 great-grandchildren and so on will make sure that no one in any lifetime forgets Ramaben Chimanlal Gandhi, and more than that, no one will ever tarnish this future lifeline that you have built. I miss you more than I can express in any possible medium, and your Krishna only knows when I will be able to return to Bombay again, let alone to your home and your room. But all I can give you now is this..

I love you immensely, Miss Universe. In this and every other life..past, present, & future. And..

I could never be mad at you.

Love,

Siddhi

Today’s Wisdom: “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world & me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another & not to me.” -C.S. Lewis

Today’s Interlude:

 

 

 

Today’s Feelings..

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It’s been one of those weeks of self-doubt, frustration, stress, unprofessional idiots, regrets, and dealing with a lot of back & forth about what to do & where to go from here. This piece by Rudyard Kipling (it’s for us daughters too!) is exactly what I needed to feel like Aaliyah..and dust myself off & try again.

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“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!”

-Rudyard Kipling, If: A Father’s Advice to His Son

Today’s Feelings..

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I have had this up on my wall in every room I have ever lived in, from home to college dorm to medical school housing, serving as an important source of wisdom for the past 18 years. Thank you for your skill of pen & strength of woman, Dr. Angelou. Rest in Peace.

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 “I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, & it will be better tomorrow.

I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, & tangled Christmas tree lights.

I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life.

I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.”

I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.

I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.

I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.

I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one.

I’ve learned that every day you should reach out & touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.

I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn.

 I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

 -Dr. Maya Angelou-

(April 4, 1928 – May 28, 2014)

ALL THE SINGLE LADIES: FLIRTY 30’S VS. DIRTY 30’S

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Hope, Happiness, Furor, Independence, Strength, Love.

If there’s anything that Sex & The City has taught us single 30-somethings in NYC, or any city for that matter, it’s that whether or not you’re anywhere near finding your Mr. (or Mrs.) Big, the dating scene will provide you with much fodder to talk about over brunch with the girls. The constant he-said/she-saids, the will they/won’t theys, the should I/shouldn’t I-s often turn Sunday afternoon mimosas into Monday morning hangovers.

Most days I feel like a combination of Taylor Swift, a Disney princess, & Daria. None of the looks, some of the grace, all of the snark..in one messily wrapped romantic present; using both meanings of that last word. Other days, I feel like an old lady who’s running out of time. All of the above are valid. As a 32 year old person who has been single for the past 7 years, you’d think I’d be missing being in a relationship. The truth is, I’m more content than I have been in a long time. That’s not some bitter-but-Beyoncé-esque-independent-woman sentiment either. At this point in my life, I just feel like I would like to concentrate on myself; my career (big change from medical school to fashion designer), my family (whom I have neglected in the past when consumed in a relationship), my nephew (who is my lifetime Valentine), and just my own overall well-being. Now, if I were 18-23 years old and saying this, everyone would be lauding me on my thought process & how I’m “so mature, that’s a great way to find yourself and see what you want out of life!” but at 32, the same people are literally distressed for me; “Oh wow, don’t you want to have children? Aren’t you worried you’ll be alone & seek companionship when it’s too late? Time is running out! Let me set you up, I know this friend who knows a friend!” No. Sorry. I do not want to meet some random human that you know through your boss’ secretary’s dog’s groomer. Time is not running out. I’m 32! Hopefully I’m not about to disappear tomorrow; I survived the End of the World in 2012 after all! Yes, children are important to me. I want little mini-me creatures running amok in the world causing hilarity and absurdity in the lives of the population more than anything else in the world, but there are options. We don’t live in the age where single parenthood, freezing eggs, surrogacy, etc. are not available to us. Not to say that I want any of those things, but though I do want to be happily married someday, I don’t think a husband is the be-all & end-all of my world. For those who know me, you know my favorite woman of all time besides my mother, grandmother, & godmother, is Mindy Kaling. And you know what, unsurprisingly enough, she said it best:

“I would love to be married. But it’s not a necessity like the way that I feel I need & want to have children. It would be wonderful to have a husband, & I would feel blessed to do it. But I would feel sad for the rest of my life if I had no kids.”

Plus, between trying an online site & finding a couple of nice guys who weren’t quite my type & some who were more arrogant than Charlie Sheen on a tiger blood rant, and making myself “more available & approachable” by going out to various events (aside from the bar scene, FYI) and nearly being mauled by someone else’s face on mine with the witty inebriated pickup line of “Whatever, can I just kiss you now!?,” the dating scene isn’t all that savory right now in my experience. Flirting has turned into what I like to call “dirting;” the new wham bam thank you ma’am of the current supposedly adult-ish generation, but without even the facade of genuine interest.

There are plenty of think pieces, blog posts, hell, whole books dedicated to “the single 30-something,” & most often, they are directed towards the single 30-something woman. I tried a Google image search using “single 30-something women” to find a picture for this post & except for pictures of SJP, Cynthia Nixon, Kim Cattrall, & Kristin Thomas, all I saw were pictures of sad lonely women, a headline of Kim Kardashian saying “I Thought I’d Be Married By Now,” & a book titled something like 30-Something, Why Am I Still Single? I relate to NONE of the above. And this isn’t some feminist rant, but come on! All of my friends are working, traveling, creating..living..single or otherwise. They aren’t sitting & wallowing in their singledom, they’re enjoying it, & some want to keep it that way forever while the others are dating or content in the belief that “it’ll happen when it happens.”

Basically all I have to say to those who keep asking me when it’s going to be my turn, today on Valentine’s Day, and every other day is this:

Bitch, don’t kill my vibe.

Today’s Interlude: Michael Bublé, “Haven’t Met You Yet”