The Unabridged Version of a Rational Emotional Mind

Hi, I am Sharlin. It’s been one year since I joined the PhD program at the Department of Social Work, University of Delhi. And this is a typical Tuesday in my life. 6.30 am: Wake up Spotify is linked to my alarm so I wake up to a random song I have in my favorites’ playlist, an almost perfect start to the day. Brushing and bathing later, I drink a glass of warm water first thing in the morning. Six months ago, I came across a book called the Artist’s Way by Julie Cameron. It calls for two regular practices to keep the artist in you alive. 1. Write a page of absolutely whatever comes to your mind (It takes me about half an hour to get through this) 2. Take yourself out on an ‘artist date’ once a week, doing things you like for fun and to reconnect with yourself. (Still struggling to be regular with this, but when I do, it’s the best time) 7.45 am: Get ready Getting dressed doesn’t take much time because I usually end up deciding what to wear the previous day (an absolute game-ch...

It’s been exactly a month since I made one of the most crucial decisions of my life. I stood in front of (what felt like a billion) people facing God and promised to have and to hold this one man for life! That was day 0. Thirty days later, I have things to say. Lessons I learnt; the life I gained. But first – some facts: 1. Mine was an arranged love marriage that took more than a year to make, giving me and my partner ample time to get to know each other and for our parents to bond. 2. Both of us were raised in similar life circumstances, allowing us to relate and agree to many aspects of leading life. 3. Since our first meeting, we have intentionally discussed our family, career and life goals.   4. Our priority was to allow our families to take the lead in planning the wedding which saved us as a couple enough time and space to focus on life after the wedding day. The wedding day was fun, extremely eventful to say the least. But thirty days into the reminiscence, here are a ...

It’s been ten months since I joined my PhD program and it seems like sufficient time for me to talk about my experience so far – specifically about…my menstrual cycle! I have been an academic girlie my whole life, but I never quite realized how much my hormonal cycle was affecting my work productivity, till I joined for PhD. The most salient feature of any PhD program is the need for self-discipline and the volume of creativity to get through any work assignment that comes one’s way. This means that for the first time in 25 years – I was the true master of my own time. I believe this is the reason why in over a decade of being declared a woman, my brain never registered signs of my body backing down, each time I was close to my periods. Having a factory-set routine can really numb these signs. I was proud of myself for being able to travel four hours a day, work eight hours, six days a week and then make it to church every Sunday. But ever since last October, when my body finally had...

Art immortalizes humans - The creator and the muse. It is the single most intangible legacy. More than material possessions collected as precious treasure, passed on from one generation to the other, the things humans envision in their minds, create with their bare hands and leave on this planet leave a mark so indelible that the echoes remain for centuries to follow. I am sure Shakespeare and Beethoven were just enjoying their talent come to fruition when they made those masterpieces. Who knew that centuries later, you and I would be studying them in school, and listening to the remixed music on Ig reels! Why have these thoughts possessed my head? I was listening to music, the playlist shuffling songs without much of my volition. A song started playing, deep baritone voice on a piano ballad. It’s someone I never got to know any more than a passing acquaintance. I have been more of a fan than a friend. The song hits hard every time I hear it. Why you ask? It was his swan song. Unin...

First love feels like taking a bite of chocolate for the first time in your life That feeling gets etched so deep into your being… You can never really recover from it… Nor can you find that feeling again   More often than not, this feeling is fleeting Never to last a lifetime Only memories of that first taste of madness…   We keep wandering…desperately searching for that familiar feeling Never to really find it…anywhere again   But then one day there comes, An unexpected turn of events Something new… A sweetness that coats our tongue Reminds us of that first taste of addiction Of madness, of childhood   A different version of that familiar feeling We no longer pine for familiarity We relish in this newfound feeling It seems worth the effort Worth the wait Worth a lifetime…   Lucky are those who find this feeling… Luckier still, if that feeling stays!

My sister texted me from the other room today. It was a hilarious conversation as always. But then, staring at her name saved on my phone I realized – We don’t have nicknames! We are the one-name and one-name-only gang. I'm not sure how many of you reading this will relate. But Charlotte and I have had to wait three seconds into someone calling our name out to know if they wanted to talk to Lin or Let! The other ‘perks’ of being born with no loving nicknames our loved ones called us is that we got ridiculously attached to our names. Now this does not mean we never got our fair share of nicknames or accidentally mispronounced names! Over the quarter century, I have spent on this planet, in chronological order, I have been called – SST, Lin, Ms Thomas, Shar, Sherlin, Shalini (a go-to for tele-callers), Shalu, Sharu, Sheru, Shera and my personal favourite – Sara. How I got my name is a conversation starter I often use to break the ice with new people. Let’s just say it was a commu...

It’s the last day of Men’s Mental Health Month for the year. I wasn’t meaning to write anything until now. But in the last few days, I saw a couple of my closest men break down and open up to me that I wanted to say something to document this moment and this cause. I am a woman. I cry a lot. I was raised being exposed to a single male influence a.k.a. my father, no brothers or close male friends till adulthood so I haven’t really known what bottling up emotions feel like. Now, that I have grown older, been in close proximity of men with varying heights of emotional walls, I can safely say that I am exposed enough to give my two cents on the matter. So here goes… Dear men of my life (and of the world?), I am sorry you have always felt the burden of protecting and providing for the people in your life that you never got to take a second glance at your own wishes and desires. I am sorry you were raised in a way that prevented the child in you from fully feeling all the emotions a hu...

 This weekend my family went through a major life update and I realized something! You see, I come from a place where emotions are not expressed, the way they show it in popular media. There are no 12 a.m. birthday wishes and celebrations, no hugs and embraces, no ‘I Love Yous’ being said every wakeful moment. What is there, is love... Love in a form that I never realized existed until now. Love in the form of toiling away for your sake. Love in the form of showing up in ways only they can. Love in the form of doing things for us in ways we never expected anyone to do for us. It’s the quiet love. One that does not use elaborate words or gestures to express itself. The one that is consistent, reliable and, ever present. Love that feels like a cool gust of wind on a warm summer day.  I am loud when I love. There are hugs, handwritten letters, random gifts…What happens because of this is that I have a bias towards people who show love the way I do. I am sure all of us feel that w...

 I am home, about to embark upon a journey of a lifetime and life is throwing so many curveballs my way that I could arguably only wallow in self-pity. But this is where I had a call with an elder sister I never had and she gave me the most touché yet often forgotten action I could take when life does not go our way. And that is what I want to tell you today! The act of choosing joy…an active striving to choose things and people and activities that give us pure and unadulterated joy, especially when circumstances are not going our way. This is very different from the toxic-ominous positivity that the world has made us believe in. This is not a covered up illusion, but an acknowledgement that life is shit, but we are consciously choosing joy and in that way, choosing ourselves. Now, how do we really choose joy? Step 1: Acknowledging our circumstances I have briefly mentioned this already. The idea is simple – to take a cold hard look at life and figure out what we can and cannot cha...

I woke up from a lazy long drawn slumber From my air-conditioned room to my air-conditioned office I travelled In my air-conditioned metro… Delhi crossed a half century on the degree Celsius I enjoyed my vanilla ice-cream with banana bread My sister and mum experimented today… In my office my students greeted me I decided their fate with my red pen Evaluation day it was for them… Posted a few stories on Palestine Oh the comfort of breaking my silence In the safety of my nation… Chai pe charcha after work My students ask me about my scholarship Maheena ka itna itna I say… I take a sip from my cup The chai-waala toils away… There is so much disillusion around me Am I supposed to pray or run away? Hide or continue with my day… Is this enough? What would suffice? How am I supposed to act? Can I even do something? I don’t have the answers I hope I find the answers…

In twenty-five years of my existence on this planet, the one thing I have struggled with the most is grief –losing friends to circumstances, family to death, loved ones to choices, opportunities to fate and parts of myself to time. Losing myself I started calling growth, in the hopes that I am becoming a better version of myself with time. Losing opportunities, I called destiny, that life has something better, more meaningful for me. Losing family I called time, circle of life complete with fond memories left behind. But losing friends and loved ones…I struggle with that even today. When someone who knows and owns a part of your soul suddenly becomes a stranger, that realization can be gut-wrenching. But now I know better, and that is what I want to share with you today. See my problem was looking at people who entered my life as investments. I put my time, effort, love and care into you, and you remain in my life as a person I hold dear. When you decide to leave, you take away eve...

It is 11 am on Friday the 15 th of March, 2024. About an hour ago, I got a call from someone completely unexpected. It was an employee from my former organization. I wondered, ‘Why is she calling me?’ I picked up the call. We exchanged pleasantries. And then she told me why she had called. About a year and a half ago, during my initial months as a new employee, I had a field visit to her centre. I recognised the need for something to be executed which would prove useful and with her support, I developed a training program and that region became the pilot for it. Cut to a year later, the core team appreciated the initiative and it was implemented across the program. I had to leave the organization before I could see the fruits of our labour. But when she called today, all she had to say to me was thank you for helping her with it and paving the way for better representation of her work when accounted for. Now, I am not writing this to toot my own horn. This is more of a gratitude t...

Three weeks ago, I finished reading JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series for the first time in my life. I am not sure what circumstances prevented me from picking up this series growing up, but I am so glad I finally did it. And in doing so, I learnt a very important lesson for life. But first, let me share how I felt immediately after finishing the series: “ It is 7.52 pm on a cool February evening in 2024. I am sitting here typing my heart out, although my brain is quite blank. I have done it! I finally entered the world of Wizardry and Witchcraft, but I can’t say that I have left it unscathed. There is an indelible mark on my chest now, maybe a little too late given my age, but finally, it is here. When I was a kid, I didn’t have access to fiction like most of my counterparts did. The library was my only hope! I remember finishing every bit of folklore and fairytales I could find while I was young. But the world of JK Rowling somehow was left untouched, that is till the beginning of...

A random thursday (2.43 am) I wake up to the sound of a child wailing her guts out. I am travelling east for the first time, on a train I have never travelled in before.  "The child has been crying for a while", someone said. I haven't gotten up from my berth yet, half asleep, I listen. An elderly man is talking to the child now, the TT I conclude. I remember his voice. Last night, he had kindly offered us to continue finishing our dinner as he checked through the validity of our reservations.  "Aapka naam kya hai?" (What is your name?), he asked.  "Preeti"* I hear the faint, and feeble voice of the child.  "Aapki mumma kahaan hai?" (Where is your mother?) "Pata nahi" (I don't know) The child continues to wail and sob in loud voices. Nobody moves, including me! The TT continues to speak, in a stern yet soothing tone, "Acha chalo, abhi aap yahaan so jao," pointing to an empty berth, "kal subah aapko hum biscuit aur...

When I was twelve years old, I was introduced to the world of youth meetings and conferences as part of my church activities. Since I was quite young, I would happily follow along with my fellow bhaiyas and didis to all these events. These events would most often be held within the city, yet quite far for what a twelve-year-old could fathom. During one such conferences, in the far off distant lands of Gurgaon a.k.a. Gurugram, I was a part of an incident, though minor in the grand scheme of things, really changed how I viewed myself and my life. See, as a twelve year old, I was just slowly starting to build my personal identity and trying to find preliminary answers to the question - "Who are you?" So on this day, the facilitator, an achen (priest in Malayalam) from the nearby seminary held a small game. He asked all of us to close our eyes and raise our hands whenever we felt a minute was up from the second he said "start". The mathematical me counted to a sixty ...

I have never held a baby in my arms. You see, I have two rules: 1. never do anything half-heartedly, and 2. never do anything without preparation. Holding a baby for the first time? No amount of will or preparation can ever make one ready for it. And that is why, in my fear of dropping this fragile human body mid-air, I have never held a baby. That was until a week ago! I was out and about in the beautiful city of Vellore, visiting an after-care school as part of my field visit. I always introduce myself as Sara in such spaces. Sharlin is just too difficult to remember, I have learned. So, on that fateful evening, I did the same, introduced myself as Sara, and carried on my routine of interacting with the kids present.  It was not until I was done with my work that the teacher of the class told me that her newly-born two-month-old is also named Sara. I was beaming at the information, and so was she. I didn't think much of it until I had to leave. And that is when the fateful thing ...

It's been a week since we have entered the new year of possibilities. Our spirits are high, our convictions stronger than ever, and we are riding the high that comes with this new season. I am closer than ever to my quarter-life crisis. This puts me in a place of abundant reminiscence. During such a period of walking down memory lane, I could not help but recall the many people who have come and gone from my life in these two-odd decades I have spent on this earth. And this is what I want to talk about today. How every person we meet are there in our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime... The fruit that falls off the tree: Some people come into our lives to fulfil a very specific purpose. Most often the reason is some inevitable lesson we need to learn to grow and become our best selves. Such people are like fruits that fall off the tree. We get to enjoy their company and presence for a short while, but as they fade away, all that is left is the seed of the lesson we were me...