My blog is an adult!

 

Eighteen years. That’s how long I've been pouring my thoughts, emotions, and life stories into this blog. It feels surreal to think back to where it all started, a simple space to express myself, yet it has become so much more over the years. This journey has been a reflection of who I was, who I am, and who I continue to grow into.

When I first started, I didn’t think it would last. Blogging was my way to vent, to process emotions I couldn’t quite articulate in conversations. What I didn't realize then was that it would turn into a lifelong companion, an evolving diary of personal growth, challenges, and triumphs. Every post, every word, carried a piece of me—sometimes raw, sometimes polished, but always true.

The early days were filled with uncertainty. I wrote hesitantly, not knowing who might be reading or if my words even mattered. It even took me a few months to finally publish my secret blog, and some of my other secret blogs still remain a secret—even to me. Back then, my posts were mostly happy, light hearted, with stories about my travels and funny incidents at the office, my dreams and yeah my thoughts too. Perhaps I was that happy, carefree kind of girl then. Then there were a blog tribe - a group of virtual friends I made through this blog. We visited each other’s blogs and talked in the comments. We tagged one another and even gave out awards. This was before the days of Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I think Facebook was the first culprit in killing the long-form style of communication. Shorter, more frequent updates took over, and pictures replaced words. But with that change, the intimacy of our long stories was lost, and many bloggers disappeared.

But as time went on, I discovered something powerful: my words weren’t just for others. They were for me. I learned that writing was a form of self-discovery, a way to navigate the whirlwind of emotions life constantly throws our way. I remember in one of those desperate moments after Acchan passed away - that was the first time I wrote an emotional post. It was during one sleepless night, and even though I tried to delete the post immediately I woke up the next morning, my tribe was already there, consoling and supporting me.

In these 18 years, I’ve written through some of the highest and lowest moments of my life. From the joy of new beginnings to the most heartbreaking losses, each post reflects a unique chapter. The beauty of blogging is that it’s all here—raw emotions, unfiltered thoughts, and every evolution of my being. Some posts were written through tears, others with a smile. But each one holds a memory, a moment where my thoughts found a place to live outside of myself.

I think that’s what keeps me going. Knowing that my words, however fleeting the moment they were written in, serve as markers of time. They remind me of my resilience, my capacity to feel deeply, and my ability to move forward. Blogging has been my way of making sense of life, of giving structure to the chaos of emotions that so often overwhelm.

As I look back on these years, I realize that blogging isn’t just about sharing thoughts—it’s about connection. Not just with readers, but with myself. Every post I wrote was a conversation with the person I was at that time. And now, I can revisit those conversations, see how far I've come, and understand the person I continue to become.

Here’s to 18 years of words, emotions, and self-reflection. Here's to the stories yet to be written, and the emotions that will continue to guide them. Thank you for being a part of this journey, whether you’ve been reading from the start or just stumbled upon this post today. My blog may be a personal space, but it’s also a shared one—and that’s something truly special.

Here’s to the next chapter. I’m ready to keep writing.

Remembering a dear friend and his memories

 

When I got a message from a friend about some unconfirmed news on Sunday noon, my vision blurred and my head started spinning. I messaged her back, saying she might have mistaken the name or person, but she said the news was about him. She said she would confirm it, and never have I ever hoped for something to be fake news more than this. Unfortunately, she confirmed the news soon after, and I felt numbness a creeping all over me.

Who was he to me? A colleague? A senior? A friend? A mentor? A brother? An advisor? A family member without blood ties? I have no clue. Technically, we were colleagues who worked together in the same team for less than a year. He was my first mentor in the industry. I was assigned a complicated component that loaded hundreds of libraries and ran into over 50 laks lines of code. At a time when Google wasn't the go-to entity and programming mastery was book-based, it was difficult for me to even understand the existing codebase which had umpteen objects lifecycle and interactions, let alone make changes to it. Every time I went to him with a question, he would direct me to some seniors. I was timid, apprehensive, and not so fluent in spoken English, but he made sure I approached them and got my doubts cleared. He would watch me from a distance until it was done. Later, we always joked about it, and I used to tell him that as a mentor, he didn't teach me anything. He would say he made me self-sufficient...

There was never a dull moment when he was around. He had this uncanny ability to turn every situation and every sentence into a laughing riot, even in board meetings. He was always the one who understood the rules and knew how to use it. At SCS, we had official working hours of 8-5 or 9-6, and he followed the 8-5 schedule. But most of us came around 10 and stayed back late, especially because our counterparts were in Munich and Vienna. We had a German manager who once asked him whether he could also do the same. He was strict about his work-life balance and said no. When the manager was insistent, he joked that his landlord would close the gate at 6 PM and he couldn't stay back late. The manager, due to cultural differences, didn't understand the joke and repeated the same reason in a board meeting, causing quite a stir.

Personally, when I was not ready to get married, he was the one who talked me out of it and encouraged me to be open. When I finally agreed to meet a prospective guy, he even advised me on how to approach the meeting and what to say and not say from a guy's perspective. When that person and his family turned out to be difficult and started making demands even before finalizing the marriage, I lashed out at him, saying that it was only because of him that I had to go through this. He responded by saying that one person is not representative of the whole world and that there would be others who would be a better match. Even though I refused to go through any more 'prospective guy-seeing ceremonies' at that time, his advice helped me to be open when I met the next guy years later, with whom I am now married.

When my parents passed, and I felt totally lost and alone, he was the one who helped me avoid slipping into depression. His daughter was only a couple of months old then, and he made sure I spent time with her to distract myself. He and his wife would come home with their daughter every single weekend, spend some time with me, and take me out for dinner. He would often become a hands-on dad, giving his wife a break while she and I went shopping. This continued for weeks, months, and even years. I am sure it wasn't easy for them, with such a small baby, to spend this much time on me. We only broke this tradition after I got married and moved to Kerala briefly. Once we moved back again, we used to meet up now and then. Even for Ram, he is among the few of my friends whom he knows quite well.

Unlike most of my friends who invested in property early on, we were two people who never felt the need to own a house in Bangalore and were happy in our long-term rented home. When the topic of buying property came up, we wanted to buy land and build a house ourselves rather than buy a ready-made flat. His family and I looked at a couple of plots, thinking we would buy nearby, but we finally decided it wasn't worth the headache. So I was surprised when he said they had finally bought land and were building a house recently. After 25 years, he finally completed his dream house and moved in two months ago, ticking off a major item on his bucket list.

In 2020 Jan, when we planned to move back to Kerala, we met up and even planned a trip to Europe that summer. He was usually not a travel person like me, but this time we made elaborate plans - His Wife, me and Ram on where to visit, while he and his daughter focused on where and what to eat. Unfortunately, COVID struck that year, and our travel plan didn’t materialize. With COVID and our move happening in the midst of that, we couldn't really catch up, although we made some short visits to Blr in between. So, finally, last Christmas, we decided to meet at his home in Kerala. Little did I expect that would be our last meeting, and my next visit there would be to say a final goodbye to him.

He was the most caring person without making it obvious. When his wife took a break after their daughter was born, he used to say it was a good decision, as the daughter grew up to be a happy child. But after that, he gave his full support to help his wife rebuild her career. Just as I had parent-like figures in my landlords, he also treated his landlords as family and often visited them even after they moved from the house. Sometimes he reminds me of my father when he brings a box of sweets every time he visits home. For his memorial service, his dad talked about the CCTV he installed and how he checked it all through the day—to see whether the gates were closed, whether the kitchen was active or even made sure the bills were paid as soon as it came. While talking to our friends about his passing, everyone had the same thing to say: how he helped them in one way or another. I checked his last message and phone call, and even that was about helping someone who was looking to get back into the industry after a break. 

He was always the one who treaded the unusual path. Just a couple of years into the industry, he took a break to pursue an MSc in Mathematics for the love of the subject, cleared the NET, and taught for some time. Then he rejoined the industry, and at one point he had two offers—one from Microsoft and another from Intuit, which was a startup at the time—he joined as the fifth employee of Intuit (this was just after the dot-com bust when startups were not so sought after) and has been part of it for the last 20 years. Now, at the age of 47, he has left for another unexpected exploration. Perhaps this is also his way of going up there and pioneering something new.😪

PS: He was very concerned about his and his family's privacy, so much so that he stayed away from all social media and even ignored Google search recommendations. So I have deliberately kept all names out of this post.

Reviving the Vibes

What are you supposed to feel when an event that you have been planning and working hard on for over a year finally concludes? A sense of relief, knowing that all the hard work and meticulous planning have paid off, or a sense of emptiness or loss, as something that has been a significant part of your life and routine is now over? I know it's natural to experience a mix of emotions, and I am trying to figure out what it is.

I never actually planned to study engineering. I had joined for a BSc course even though I got a reasonable rank in the entrance exam. But fate had other ideas. I was lured to join B.Arch., which at that time was only offered at REC and CET. I agreed because architecture is something I have always loved (and still do). So, I took a TC from Vimala College to join REC Calicut. However, during the joining process, when my mom learned that B.Arch. at REC didn't have accreditation at that time, she vetoed the offer and made me take EEE instead. This change was kind of a last-minute decision. But once we returned home, I guess when she started thinking about it, she began worrying - ragging, electrical labs, hostel life, distance, and so many other "issues," and she forced me to shift to GECT. To cut the long story short, I gave my parents an authorization letter and said, "Do whatever you want." That's how I got a second TC from REC Calicut and ended up at GEC Thrissur, which was hardly a kilometer from my home.  They had also joined me in Electronics, which was trending but a subject I always hated. Until then, I used to study the subjects I enjoyed and scored well, but once I joined engineering, I did reasonably well only in the first semester, which didn't have many electronics subjects. After that, my grades started slipping. All I did was open the book for the first time the day before exams and read whatever I could until the exam started. It was a time of feeling a bit lost, frustrated, and uncertain. Our class was away from the main building, and being day scholars, all we did was get off at the Vimala stop, climb over the wall to reach the ADS classrooms. The moment there was any strike or free class, we did the same climbing and scooted at the first instance. I frequented the Vimala College canteen more than the GEC canteen. So during my college days, I hardly knew anyone, not even my own classmates, let alone batchmates. Probably that was the reason I never connected or felt like visiting the college after I graduated.

In fact, it was during our time in Bangalore that I connected with most of my own classmates and some other batchmates and developed friendships. When the discussion about our 25th-year reunion first came up in our class group during the Covid lockdown, we were only thinking about an ECE get-together and nothing beyond that. As part of that, we had planned some giving-back ideas and had contacted the department as well. So when Sanjeev contacted me to volunteer to collect the contact info of my classmates for a common group get-together, I was quite passive. But I took it up as it was a fairly easy task since we already had a class WhatsApp group where most contacts were readily available, except for two people who are still elusive :( After a couple of months, he formed the SPOCs group and invited me to join, which I was quite resistant to. Even though I used to be active in cultural clubs and NGOs during my early days in Bangalore, I had totally withdrawn from all such activities after the passing of my parents. Probably the only event I planned and executed after that was my own wedding!

I tried to pass the responsibility to almost everyone in my class, but no one was ready to take it up, and that's how I ended up in the SPOCs group. We were a group of mismatched individuals, many of whom had never met before. Initially, we had a lot of discussions and many active members. But as days and months passed, most people got busy with life, and the active members were reduced to just a few.  Even then, we had a dedicated lot who took responsibility and executed it to perfection. We worked and coordinated from different countries and cities, yet managed to stick together for close to a year without any major incidents, which is a great achievement in itself. I never thought I would make new friends at this age, especially from GEC, and I think that is what happened. I got to know a bunch of pure, selfless souls who radiated positive energy, and who I can now happily call friends—the ones I missed meeting during the college days.

Now that the event is over this weekend, everyone seems to be on a high—not just the SPOCs, but also the batchmates, the faculty, and the invitees. We are receiving compliments that the event was planned and executed so well. Even the college authorities and the alumni association are quite happy, as we are the first batch to have given the highest contribution back so far. That's when I started wondering what it is that I am feeling. Is it a sense of nostalgia and a desire to recapture something valuable from the past?  The event was named "ReVibes" which evokes feelings, moods, and atmospheres that are intangible but deeply felt, making the idea of reviving them particularly appealing. Maybe it's also a time for my own rejuvenation and return to a more vibrant, energetic state. Hopefully...

The Black Shirt and The Chase

 

Today, I encountered an issue with the polling process. Yesterday, I had downloaded the voting slip on my office laptop which I couldn't transfer to my phone because of security restrictions. I assumed someone would have dropped the slip at home letter box as is the case usually since the house is locked. But upon arriving home late last night, there was no sign of it. So I tried downloading it again onto my phone, but unfortunately, the website was down today, leaving me without the slip at the polling booth. Despite the efforts of the polling agents to locate my name, they were unable to find it. They suggested I look for someone wearing a tucked in black shirt outside the booth who might be able to assist me faster. Upon exiting, I searched for the individual in the black shirt but couldn't locate them and so returned home to retrieve the slip from my laptop. Upon my return to the booth, I spotted the man in the black shirt, wearing white pants, which reminded me of a funny incident from 25 years ago.

We were in our 7th semester and had signed up for the IES exam. At that time, we had no idea about its difficulty or seriousness; it was more of 'our seniors are taking it, so we'll do the same' mentality. Most of us in our class had signed up, with all the enthusiasm of clueless adventurers, and we had planned to travel the previous day to Ernakulam, where the center was located. I believe someone in the class had booked a couple of rooms in a hotel, anticipating a large group. However, on the day of the exam, only four people showed up - two boys and two girls. This was a time when even interacting between girls and boys was enough to raise eyebrows, and staying in a hotel would have been scandalous. So, we decided not to go to the hotel, and our classmates left, leaving only me and my friend behind.

My friend called her dad and explained the situation. Naturally, he wasn't too thrilled but told us to wait in the station to see what he can do. He then managed to coordinate with one of his colleagues in the Ernakulam office to assist us. So when we called again, he instructed us to look for someone wearing a "black shirt and white mundu(dhoti)", and we were to go with him. We had no idea who he was, his age range, or how he looked. By then, it was late evening, and darkness was setting in, making us increasingly uneasy about being alone at the station. Obviously, this was before the era of mobile phones, so we waited at the station looking for our knight in not-so-shiny attire and eventually spotted an elderly man dressed in a black shirt and white mundu. Assuming he was the person we were supposed to meet, I stayed back with our luggage and my friend approached him. However, the old man seemed frightened by a girl approaching him with confidence. He began walking faster, with my friend following him, and he paced even faster. Somewhere along the way, she lost the chase and the sight of him and we were wondering what to do. There was no way we could call back home again and admit that we had lost sight of our 'savior'. Luckily, our actual rescuer showed up eventually and whisked us away to a convent hostel, where we stayed for the night.

The case of mistaken identity and "the chase" became a source of legendary tales in our circle for a long time. Unfortunately, this incident also meant we were denied permission to travel for any future exams or placement calls, which were centralized in Ernakulam at that time.

Hachi - The gentlest soul I have ever seen

I'm not exactly sure when my attraction to Golden Retrievers began, but at some point along the way, I decided that if I were to own a dog in the future, it would definitely be a Golden. Once, I even came across an ad for Golden Retriever puppies and reserved one, but I couldn't proceed with the purchase because my landlord vetoed the idea of me having a puppy when I was living alone. During my teenage years, I had a pet that was given to me as a gift. However, at that time, we had no idea how to properly raise a puppy, and she ended up being completely untrained.(The reason why you should never ever 'gift' a pet to anyone..) That was my only experience with a pet dog until then. Once I got married, Ram's family had 7 dogs, and he was also feeding many more on the streets. So when I told him about the Golden Retriever story, he said we would have one. Additionally, I felt more confident about having another pet because of his expertise.

However, once we moved to Bangalore, I saw news about lab-released beagles, which was the largest batch at that time. These poor creatures had been kept in solitary cages, subjected to daily drug testing. The release from the labs was a significant shock to their bodies and minds. When they emerged, they lacked confidence, were anxious, and knew nothing about the world outside the laboratory walls – soil, grass, stones, leaves, or sunlight were all foreign to them. Rehabilitation was a challenging process that involved gradually exposing them to the world, patient socialization, and dealing with frequent setbacks. We were so heartbroken listening to the story that we felt compelled to adopt one. Despite being with us for six months, Diva remained fearful and anxious. However, she seemed to improve when we took her back to our hometown and introduced her to our other pets. Seeing her struggle to adapt to human interaction and learn how to be a dog, we decided to adopt a second dog. By then, I was also aware of the issues within the breeding industry and had resolved to adopt from a shelter. When we approached the counselor and expressed our preference for Golden Retrievers, they were uncertain if a breed-specific adoption could be arranged. But, just a few weeks later, they informed us about Hachi, who had been abandoned by his previous owners. Hachi, around 3-4 years old at the time, immediately stole our hearts from the moment we first met him. Despite being abandoned, he exuded an undeniable warmth and trust.

Once he came home, we thought he might dominate Diva, but the total opposite happened. He was always the gentle one, even when Diva stole his food, bed, or snuck in while we petted him. It wasn't long before Diva started observing Hachi's behavior, and began trusting us. Hachi's gentle nature extended beyond the humans in our home. All cats and kittens seemed to instinctively trust him, finding comfort and playfulness in his presence. 

 

His ability to connect with others, regardless of species, showcased the depth of his empathy and compassion. A couple of months ago, we had a fully paralyzed dog named Amy, with very limited movements. Hachi, who suffered from arthritis, found it difficult to get up, especially in colder months, and usually required assistance. However, one day, when he seemed to have improved slightly, he got up on his own, walked up to Amy, and lay down next to her with his paws on hers, probably to comfort her.

Hachi was everyone's favorite, despite the competition from the many four-legged species we shared our home with. He had a fan following in the neighborhood we lived in; he was adored by groomers and veterinarians alike due to his friendly and obeying nature. Just as Hachi was everyone's favorite, everyone was his favorite too. We also felt he might have been searching for his original owner in all the people he met. It's often said that dogs become heartbroken when separated from their owners. Despite his love for people, he also made sure to give space to those who didn't like dogs or were scared of him due to his size. How he understood it instinctively was just amazing.

He loved car rides, which was a blessing for hodophiles like us. The moment he saw us packing, he would be all charged up and ready to go. We often wondered why someone would give up such a fine dog like Hachi, and we joked that the only reason might be his never-ending love for food.

But as life often unfolds, our time with Hachi was not infinite. He had various health issues which finally claimed his gentle soul, leaving a huge void in our hearts and home. He was with us for over 7 years, and it has been 3 weeks since he passed away, yet we still feel a profound sense of loss and sadness. Sometimes we wonder, while he was literally a dream pet one could ever have, were we the best family he could have gotten? Would it have been better for him to be in a family with just one dog so that he could receive all the attention? Did our move back to Kerala limit his options for receiving the best treatment? Did our elder care responsibilities limit the time and attention we could give him in his final years? However, we won't get any answers to these questions, and they will linger forever in our minds.

As we bid farewell to our beloved Hachi, we hold onto the legacy of his gentle spirit and unwavering love. Though he may no longer walk by our side, his presence will forever be felt in our hearts as we cherish every precious moment we had with him.

The Chains of Colorism

 

Photo by Alexander Suhorucov:

I just watched a counterpoint debate featuring a dancer Kalamandalam Sathyabhama, and I went back to the clip where the controversy erupted. It is astonishing to learn that even in this so-called progressive time, how vile some of her remarks were. She says, "Some of the performers' complexions are dark as a crow, and even their own mothers would not want to look at them." "People have different opinions. If an artist thinks a black-skinned person can perform Mohiniyattam, it is their opinion. But for me, the performer should be fair-skinned.”

It's disheartening to see individuals in positions of influence perpetuate harmful stereotypes and reinforce old-fashioned notions of beauty based on skin color.

I guess what she doesn't understand is the deep wound she is inflicting on someone else, not just the person she referred to but probably many kids who do not fall in the 'fair-skinned' category. By equating dark skin with unattractiveness and implying that it detracts from one's artistic abilities, she not only undermines the talent and dedication of countless performers but also inflicts deep emotional wounds on those who do not conform to her narrow standards of beauty.

Listening to her words, dripping with contempt for those whose skin did not meet her arbitrary standards of beauty, I couldn't help but feel a pang of familiarity. As someone who has personally experienced the repercussions of colorism, I understand the lasting effects it can have on one's self-esteem and sense of worth. Growing up where fair skin was prized, I'm all too familiar with the hurtful comments and comparisons that clouded my childhood.  My mother, with her extremely fair complexion, was the epitome of beauty in the eyes of our community. People often remarked on our striking resemblance, except for one glaring difference – my skin color. From a young age, I was aware of the disappointment and pity on their faces when they realized I didn't inherit my mother's fair skin. The comments were relentless, "Ayyo, ammade color kittiyillallo" (so sad she didn't inherit her mother's color), they would sigh, their words like daggers to my fragile sense of self-worth. "Chinnakkuttide mol karutha kutti aayallo" (the girl is dark-skinned), they would whisper, clearly showing their disappointment in every syllable. There were also comparisons with my fair cousins so much so that  I have always felt  unattractive and unlovable.  It's hard to pinpoint exactly when the seeds of self-doubt were planted, but societal prejudice played a big role. It took a long time to start overcoming those feelings, even if only partly.

So, to Kalamandalam Sathyabhama and all those who believe in the toxic myth of colorism, I say this:  true beauty lies not in the shade of one's skin but in the depth of one's character and the resilience of one's spirit. We must challenge these biased ideas and strive towards a more inclusive and equitable society where every individual is valued and celebrated, regardless of their skin color. 

And to those who feel judged by societal beauty standards: Do not allow others to dictate your worth based on the melanin in your skin. It is not your skin color that defines you but rather the strength and resilience that lie within. You are capable of rising above the narrow confines of societal expectations.

By making diverse voices heard, showing representation in every way, and creating a culture where all kinds of beauty are accepted and valued, we can start to undo the damage caused by colorism. This will lead to a better future for everyone.

The Gorgeous Mess of Life

PC: https://www.pexels.com/@polina-kovaleva/

It's February, and a whole month has passed since New Year's. I am someone who keeps multiple to-do lists throughout the year—mostly for daily tasks, work, personal projects, etc. During the New Year, the planning process reaches its peak. Last New Year's Day, I had planned multiple tasks in my daily todo which I successfully completed and felt a sense of accomplishment. Alas, just before the day concluded, I spilled some boiling milk on me and ended up with a second-degree burn, which took a while to heal, sending all the to-dos for the rest of my days/weeks berserk. So, this year, I was more cautious and set monthly goals. However, the entire month of January saw me falling ill and feeling extremely tired and the to-dos kept piling up. Now as I sit here contemplating the beautiful chaos that is my life, I realized that's how life is. It has a funny way of piling up pages and pages of incomplete tasks, half-baked plans, abandoned projects, unfulfilled dreams, journeys that never took off, and ideas that never saw the light of day. It's a messy set of ambitions that were momentarily sparked by passion but faded into the background as life's responsibilities took center stage. However, I can't help but appreciate all the different experiences that have shaped me into who I am today. We are all such gorgeous messes, aren't we?

But you know what? There's a certain kind of beauty in our messiness. It's life's way of keeping us humble, reminding us that perfection is overrated. It's in these messy moments that we discover the raw authenticity of our existence. So, here's the thing – In the midst of this beautiful mess, let's not forget to be kind to ourselves. It's okay not to have everything figured out, to have dreams at different stages, and to be a mix of what we want and what holds us back. Here's to embracing the chaos, to being okay with the messiness of life, and trusting that things will get better. Those ideas that never saw the light of day? They might be dormant, but they're not dead. Maybe they're just waiting for the perfect moment to shine. Life has its own way of unfolding, and sometimes, the best is yet to come.

Here's to us – the beautifully imperfect, wonderfully messy souls. May our incomplete tasks serve as a reminder that we are constantly evolving, and our unfulfilled dreams fuel the fire of possibility. Let's be kind to ourselves, celebrate the mess, and trust that life has a way of treating us to some pretty awesome surprises. Cheers to the beautifully imperfect journey we're all on!

2023 Reflections

 

I was going through some of my older posts from decades back and realized I had forgotten about many of those incidents. These posts serve as reminders of my journey as a person. So, I thought it's probably a good idea to reflect on the year gone by – a rollercoaster of emotions and experiences that defined this year.

Probably one of the significant decisions I made this year was to pursue a 2-year MBA program from BITS Pilani. Quite a few people asked me what the need for it was and if it's even possible to cope with the pressure when the days are already tough with a full-time job and demanding elder care/pets care/home care/plant care responsibilities. I think the answer goes back to September 2009 when I was accepted for the EGMP-XV batch at IIMB. The admission date was Sept 11th, and the classes were commencing from September 21, 2009. But it was on Sept 10th that my life changed when Amma passed. After that, as most of you know, it was a wild ride. So, it was more about getting back to an unfinished task that I wanted to do than anything else. Now that I have completed two semesters and am at the halfway mark, I have to say it is not at all easy but worth the trouble. It is kind of a transformative journey that challenges me to step out of my comfort zone, develop resilience, and cultivate a mindset of continuous improvement.

Another change is shifting home to another city (Kochi). When I moved back to my childhood home, I was happy or thought I would be happy in the place where I grew up, where I could be me, with people who knew me from childhood around. But how wrong I was - you are residing in a place that holds so many memories, especially when those who created those memories are no longer there. It is a bittersweet experience, filled with both nostalgia and a sense of loss. Every room seems to whisper stories of your childhood; each corner of the house is a portal to a time when life felt simpler, and your parents were your anchors. Their favorite chair, their room and lot many other things - when you are surrounded by the physical remnants of their lives, which are now reminders of the void they've left behind. Sometimes rediscovering old family albums, stumbling upon handwritten notes and letters can bring a smile amid the tears. It's a delicate dance between acknowledging the pain of loss and finding joy in the precious memories stored within the walls. Sometimes I've had arguments with Ram because some of the changes and the need to adapt the space to our own life can bring about a sense of guilt, as if we're altering a sacred space. I've been leaning towards the idea that it might be better to keep it as a visiting place rather than a permanent living place. Time will tell how this decision fares.

I hadn't been putting much effort into connecting with people after the weird experiences during the orphaned stage. Other than the ones who were my support system and connected with me constantly, I wasn't looking forward to connecting with others for the last many years. However, I've come to realize the importance of forging meaningful connections and the positive impact they can have on my life. So, I'm making a conscious effort to change my approach now. I'm actively seeking opportunities to connect, communicate, and build lasting bonds with others (not an easy job for an introvert),. It's a shift in my mindset and I'm hopeful that by actively engaging with people, I'll not only enhance my social connections but also enrich my overall experiences and perspectives. Thus, it's been a year of reconnecting—from old PUC classmates to engineering batchmates, extended families, and even new friends from other communities.

I was reading one of my favorite authors today, and she writes, '...the end of a year should be filled with congratulations, for all we survived... And a new year should start with promises to be kinder to ourselves, to understand better just how much we bear as humans on this exhausting treadmill of life.' So as we turn the page on 2023, let's remember the times we laughed, the moments we learned, and the instances we grew. Of course, there's something magical about a fresh start, and 2024 holds the promise of new beginnings. As we embark on this journey, may the upcoming year bring not just new opportunities but also a sense of peace and good health. Let's take a deep breath, embrace the memories, and step into the future with optimism.

Balancing Care and Life!

Recently, the renowned Malayalam filmmaker and screenwriter, K G George, passed away in a retirement care home. Following his demise, his family, especially his wife, faced significant criticism and cyberattacks from fans and the media for not caring for him at home. He had suffered a stroke a couple of years earlier, and his family has stated that they meticulously researched and selected a retirement home with a strong reputation for specialized stroke patient care, with doctors readily available. Their primary aim was to ensure he received the best possible care, not abandonment. It is indeed saddening that the family had to endure this unexpected wave of societal judgment and criticism during such a painful time.

Taking care of elderly parents is a difficult and emotionally demanding task that isn't straightforward. It becomes even harder when you live far away because you may not be physically present to provide daily care. Most of my friends are currently dealing with similar challenges as our parents' generation is getting older, with most of them now over 65 years old. Even if the elderly person is healthy, catering to their needs can be challenging because mentally, they may still feel they can manage their lives as before, but their aging bodies may not agree, leading to a struggle.

Caring for a loved one, particularly as a primary caregiver, comes with significant challenges that can impact the caregiver's own life in various ways. Below are some of the experiences that me and my mom had to overcome when my father was critically ill. While each family's situation is unique, there are common challenges and issues that families often face.  Although I'm not an expert, here are some of my thoughts on how to navigate these situations.

Emotional and Mental Well-Being: Witnessing a loved one's decline in health can be emotionally and mentally distressing, especially when you've known them as a strong person all your life. As caregivers, we may feel sadness, frustration, guilt, and anxiety, which can lead to burnout and mental health problems if not managed effectively. Therefore, it is essential to prioritize self-care, seek emotional support, practice stress-reduction techniques, and ensure that we take regular breaks to recharge and manage our well-being.

Physical Health: The physical demands of caregiving can take a toll on a caregiver's health. Lifting and assisting with mobility, managing medications, and providing personal care can be physically challenging, leading to exhaustion. Prioritize personal health by maintaining a healthy diet, regular exercise, and getting enough rest. Seek assistance from others or professional caregivers for physically demanding tasks.

Gender Roles: In many Indian households, caregiving responsibilities are primarily shouldered by women, which can result in a disproportionate burden on female family members. It is important to involve other family members and encourage a fair distribution of household and caregiving duties.

Time Management: Caregiving responsibilities can be time-consuming, leaving us with little time for personal pursuits, work, or other family commitments. Develop a structured schedule that involves multiple family members or professional caregivers. Prioritize tasks and consider delegating responsibilities to others.

Career and Work-Life Balance: Many of us have to balance their caregiving responsibilities with full-time jobs, which can be physically and emotionally demanding. This can lead to burnout and a strained work-life balance. Communicate with employers about caregiving responsibilities and explore available workplace support, such as flexible work arrangements or employee assistance programs.

Lack of Respite Care: Adequate respite care options are often lacking in India, leaving us with little opportunity to take breaks and recharge. Therefore, it is important to seek help from friends and family members to provide respite care, or consider hiring a professional caregiver to provide temporary relief.

Social Isolation: The demands of caregiving can often lead to social isolation. We may find ourselves with limited time and energy to maintain social connections and engage in activities outside of the caregiving role. Make an effort to maintain social connections even if it means seeking support from friends and family to free up time for social activities.

Uncooperative Patients: Caring for a patient who is uncooperative or resistant to care presents significant challenges for the family. It is important to respect the patient's dignity and autonomy while offering choices whenever possible. Seek their preferences and consider making adjustments to the care routine.

Stigma Around Institutional Care: There is often a stigma associated with placing elderly family members in institutional care, such as nursing homes or assisted living facilities. This can make it challenging for family to explore alternative care options. Educate skeptical family members about the benefits and necessity of institutional care when it's in the best interest of the elderly person. 

Financial Strain: Last but definitely not the least, caregiving can have financial implications, as it often requires hiring professional help, purchase of medical supplies, home modifications, or even reduced work hours or career interruptions to provide care. Seek financial advice to create a budget and explore available resources to manage caregiving-related expenses. 

Breaking Silence, Shattering Stigmas: Women's Health Awareness

 

I had thought long and hard whether to write this. In fact, this was a post I had been contemplating from my active blogging days more than a decade ago and finally got to write it now. This is to share my experience living with Polycystic ovary syndrome/ Disease  (PCOS/PCOD) which is a common endocrine disorder affecting women of reproductive age.  It is characterized by hormonal imbalances, irregular periods, and the formation of multiple cysts in the ovaries. It is a precursor for other serious conditions including obesity, type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular disease and endometrial cancer and its prevalence has been on the rise in recent years.

Teenage Turmoil

 My journey with this disorder began during my early teenage years. My mother had a transferable job, and during my teenage years, she was working outside the district, coming home only on Sundays. During one of her visits, she sat me down and explained about the menstrual cycle and gave me instructions on what needs to be done which according to her I might experience soon. The very next month I got my first period and managed it exactly as I was instructed. I also informed mom about it, and she was glad that she educated me just in time. But one thing she missed telling me and I was not aware of was that this bleeding would stop after a couple of days. Then one day I fainted and was rushed to hospital. A blood test showed extremely low HB count and that was when everyone around me realized I was bleeding heavily for 4 months straight! And that was just the first instance of the turmoil I had to endure in the coming years. Doctors were also new to this symptom at that time, and I was put on multiple experimental medications just to stop the bleeding.

 In a society where anything related to menstruation was considered taboo and impure, all the difficulties had to be hushed and endured silently. I remember the struggle I had in school during PT classes which I had no strength to attend but I could not take an exception as I was not comfortable talking to my teachers about it. Moreover, it was difficult to explain to others what I was going through, when I did not fully understand it myself. Then there was this excruciating pain that kept me awake all night and made me miss classes (even exams). After countless appointments and tests that spanned over 2-3 years, I was finally diagnosed with PCOD when I was 15 years old. The internet was not as prevalent then and so I had to turn to medical dictionaries to understand what it meant. Knowing what I was dealing with gave me a sense of relief, but it was also daunting to learn about the complexities of the condition.

Adulthood Challenges and Finding Support

The irregularity of my menstrual cycles made it difficult to plan my life, whether it was pursuing career goals or making social commitments. That was the time I had discovered travel as a passion, but it was difficult as I was unsure of when the heavy bleeding or pain would strike again. The unpredictability was frustrating, and I could not help but feel like I was missing so much if not for this situation. It was like putting my life on hold with no end in sight. (Though I have to say I have managed a lot of travels still with the condition)

The Internet gave me more insights into my condition but also amplified my fears, apprehensions, and uncertainties. That time I also realized I am not the only one in this space unlike what I had thought initially. I have close friends/relatives in the medical field and still it took me a decade even to talk to them about my experiences and that was a big relief. Slowly I told some of my travel mates so that they were aware of my difficulties during our trips. Sharing my stories and experiences provided a sense of belonging and acceptance and reminded me that I was not alone in this battle.

Symptoms of PCOS:

PCOS presents a range of symptoms that impact various aspects of a woman's health. Irregular menstrual cycles, often accompanied by missed periods or heavy bleeding, are a common hallmark.  Many women also grapple with weight gain and obesity due to insulin resistance, which may lead to an increased risk of type 2 diabetes. Conversely, excess weight can exacerbate insulin resistance and other PCOS symptoms. Polycystic ovaries, detected through ultrasound, are characteristic, but not all women experience this feature. Excess androgen levels contribute to symptoms such as hirsutism and acne. Mood disorders, skin issues, and sleep disturbances can further complicate the PCOS experience. Women with PCOS are at a higher risk for cardiovascular issues due to factors like obesity, insulin resistance, and metabolic syndrome. Irregular periods can lead to changes in the uterine lining, increasing the risk of endometrial hyperplasia (excessive thickening of the uterine lining) and possibly endometrial cancer.

It is important to recognize that while these symptoms are prevalent, not all individuals with PCOS will experience all of these issues. The diagnosis of PCOS is typically based on a combination of symptoms, physical examination, and diagnostic tests such as blood hormone levels and ultrasound. Treatment and management of PCOS can vary depending on individual circumstances and goals. Lifestyle changes, such as adopting a healthy diet and engaging in regular exercise, often play a central role. Medications may also be prescribed to address specific symptoms, such as regulating menstrual cycles or managing insulin resistance. If you suspect you have PCOS or are experiencing related symptoms, it's recommended to consult a healthcare professional for proper diagnosis and guidance. 

Managing PCOD and Acceptance

To manage my PCOD, I relied on a combination of medical interventions and lifestyle changes. Birth control pills helped regulate my menstrual cycles and reduce the heavy bleeding to some extent. But I also realized that lifestyle modifications played a crucial role. Regular exercise became a part of my routine, and I focused on maintaining a balanced diet to improve my overall health. While these changes did not cure my condition, they helped in managing the symptoms and reducing some of the emotional burden I carried. I also realized any change in my routine, food habits or even my mental state also adversely affected the condition and I tried to keep up with my routine whenever I deviated.

Living with PCOD has taught me the importance of self-love and acceptance. The societal notion of "good" is often intertwined with perfectionism and the pursuit of flawlessness can paralyze us. There were times when I blamed myself for not being "normal" or 'perfect' like others, but over the years I have come to understand that PCOD is not my fault, and it does not define my worth as a person. It has been a challenging journey, but I have also grown stronger through this experience. I try to be kinder to myself and acknowledge that my journey may be different from others, but it is still meaningful and beautiful in its own way.

While PCOD continues to be a part of my life, I refuse to let it hold me back. Through the years, I have learned to navigate the difficulties, finding strength in my struggles, and discovering ways to manage this condition. If you are going through a similar experience, know that you are not alone, and together, we can support and uplift one another on this unique path we walk.

# PCOS Awareness for a Healthier Tomorrow