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“...it’s not just the person who fills a house, it’s their I’ll be back later's, their toothbrushes and unused hats and coats, their belongingnesses.”    ― David Mitchell

An appropriate quote to mark two years of my grandfather's passing.

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I am lost without you. I am soulless, a drifter without a home, a solitary bird in a flight to nowhere. I am all these things, and I am nothing at all. This, my darling, is my life without you. I long for you to show me how to live again.

- Nicholas Sparks, Message in a Bottle

All is well.. In my world.

There have been times in my life where I have felt not good enough. Not for myself, not for my friends and especially not for my family. I felt unintelligent, sad and worthless. It wasn't anyone's fault - although, if at the time you asked me why I felt like that, I'd probably blame circumstances, I'd blame God, and most of all I'd blame the people who left me feeling stranded. You see, it's easy blaming others for the mishaps in your life. I can think of a few people I know I blamed constantly for "leaving me".. I consistently blamed them for the lack of trust I had in various relationships around me. I would purposely keep information and personal thoughts to myself in fear that if I shared them with another, and that person left me - they'd take a part of me with them.. And I'd be left feeling broken all over again. Such strong words there.. You can only imagine the chaos that was my mind. 

It's natural. We all go through ups and downs with our emotions, and there are times in our lives where we feel certain negativity towards ourselves. In fact, more often than not, you spend a large part of your existence not being happy with who you are, with what you look like and how your life is going. The saddest part of this is not that you felt this way, but the length of time you felt like that for. Some people feel this way for their entire lives, and they leave this world with no love or contentment within themselves. 

As it is, psychologically speaking - your teenage and early adulthood years (along with the quarter life crisis and the mid-life crisis!) are quite complicated - removing circumstances like losing loved ones and so forth - It's such a confusing time in your life - you feel unprotected, unloved (for whatever reason, even if it's untrue), anxious, insecure and completely lost. Relationships falter because of these emotions, and that just adds to the barrel of "bad things" that keep happening to you during those years. 

However, I like to think that I've gladly changed that "emo" side of me. You see, I've become a strong believer of what you put out to the world, it will give to you wholeheartedly. If you think, for instance that you're going to do really badly in your exams - chances are, you will. You'll subconsciously make it happen. Your mind is in fact, that strong. Tell yourself you have a headache over and over, and you'll get one. That kind of thing. So if you believe you are worthless, you will be worthless. You will do things that will just fulfil your mindset time and time again and lead down that spiral more. It's only when you realise that your thought process have somehow gone wonky along the way, do you make positive changes to them. 

When I look back on the last 25 years - I see a lot of darkness. And I'm not even that old. I see tragedy, solitude, anger, unhappiness and so much frustration at the life I was leading. It's not all gone away, I'll be honest. There are still moments where I find myself caught in a web of frustrations that I can't shake off. But I also know that I am well equipped with a stronger mind and a happier self to look past those negativities now.

Life is hard. It really is. At least the one I've lead thus far - it's filled with so much nonsense that you could otherwise do without. But it's so easy to get stuck in different ruts and not know how to pull yourself out of them. Overtime you realise that your happiness doesn't lie with someone else - it is actually you (I sound way too cheesy.. There is more coming by the way). Your happiness is you, it's inside you - it's not going to come from another person. Another person will mirror it, surely, and will add to it - but the contentment and ease that comes from that happiness has to start from you. Because that will depend on how you'll react to others around you; for instance, your partner could fly to the moon and bring a piece back for you, and yet you'd still be unfulfilled (this is providing you want said piece of moon of course, let's just assume for the sake of my example, you do.) and would eventually continue being unhappy. The fact is, the core part of you that is unsettled, if undealt with - will stay the same until you do something about it.

I've realised that in order to be happy, you have to take things in to your own hands. You can't blame others, and you certainly can't just wait around for people to enter your life to make you feel happy.

Humans are odd. They're complicated and on some level, masochistic as well. There's a certain buzz you get from being sad. Yes, I know - I sound doolally. But it's true - there's this strange feeling in sadness, it's like you know that you never want to feel like that again, but once it's gone - the memory of it so easily sends you down that spiral again. And sometimes, you just want to stay in that sadness. The other day, I was talking to an acquaintance about sadness - and she told me she was feeling upset and wanted to be left on her own and just wanted to delve deeper in her sadness for a while. I laughed, understanding exactly what she meant. After a while, I just stood around thinking how utterly bizarre that was. You willingly want to be sad? You want to sit alone, think about sad things and just be.. Sad? Why do you want to do that? Clearly you have to enjoy that strange buzz on some level, right?

It's not our fault though. I mean it is, because growing up - you listen to Avril Lavigne and all these other emo bands and singers that reinforce the idea that sadness is in fact, cool. There's this whole mysteriousness in being sad that you think brings you positive attention (which it does not). Being sad, after a while gets well.. Annoying. You can have patience of a saint, but at some point you'll want to shake the person in question and scream "look around you, revel in the small happinesses you have, there's nothing monumentally wrong with you or your existence. Be grateful to the life God has given you." But alas, most of the times we shy away from being that upfront and honest. I don't understand why.

I digress, as per usual. When I was younger, I remember a lot of unsettling things from various relationships around me. I recall fights, anger, financial problems and all sorts of nasty things like that. Over the years when I was old enough to understand what those events were, I was told stories of fraud, dishonesty, heartbreak and so many other sad and deeply upsetting things to do with the people I knew and loved. These stories were filled with such negativity that it inadvertently built fear within me for various situations. I was afraid of the idea of marriage of one point, and at another - of finances. But there was always a reason to be in fear of something and sadly not a lot of positivity. Now I've talked a lot about fear on my blog over the years. And it's something I've had a strong dislike towards for as long as I know. I'm guilty of it too. But I also know that fear can easily be replaced by much nicer emotions - perhaps not love, but like at least. 

When you grow up with fearful ideas, you'll only ever know that because that's what you saw/was instilled in you. Again, there's no blame here - because you only teach what you know (and the younger, learn what they are therefore taught). And if all you know is fear and sadness, well that's what you'll pass on. One of the things that stops me from being in a state of sadness is picturing myself in the future in two ways - one, where I'm completely and unimaginably happy and beaming with well.. Happiness, and the other where I'm a bit of a slump, sad and in another dreaded situation. It's actually quite powerful. And scary. It's scary to think that the negative thoughts you build now, will only get stronger as time passes - leading you to nothing else but misery. What a frightening thought, eh?

It's simple - think good things, and good things will happen. Be passionate for the things you enjoy doing and make you happy - in fact, do them often. Be desperate for good changes and for things you want to do in your life, and they'll come to you. Have faith, and be patient and overall just take things in a light-hearted manner. I harp on about this all the time - but I think we need to be more grateful for what we have and the people we have around us (rather, we spend so much time thinking about those who have gone, that we forget to appreciate those who are still around). Don't forget to exist in the day that you're in - and don't stalk the past that much. Bask in the happiness of smaller things, and forget the materialism that has become life. And most of all - don't wish for things that other people have, be happy for them and wish them more good. You'll have your own good too.

It's easy to be upset, and it's easy to make lists of everything that is wrong with you and your life. It's harder to be happy, which is ironic - but once you feel a bit of it, you'll want to be surrounded by it, you'll want to bathe in it, savour it, revel in it and most of all, you'll never want to feel anything else again. If nothing else, do it for the future you who is high-fiving you for making an effort at being happy (self five. Self pat).

It's taken me many years to fully say this without holding back out of fear that it won't last - but.. I am happy. I want to always be happy. And I will continue to be happy. The stuff around the edges, the daily frustrations, decisions to be made in the future and so forth - none of that frightens me any more. I know it's there, and I know, in it's own time - it will make sense. 

I'm happy to report that all that sadness, negativity, sourness, bitterness, fear, heartbreak and all other such feelings are a distant memory. You've been around for far, far too long.

In the spirit of being submerged in happiness, here is a song that I'm completely in love with at the moment. 

Soul

Growing up, I never really knew my grandparents much. I knew them in the sense of who they were, where they lived and what they looked like - and would talk to them often, and receive birthday cards and the like every year. I loved them regardless though. They were sort of scary to me, like authority. And since you know me, you know I don't deal well with rules at all. 

Some of the earliest memories I have with my (paternal) grandparents was when they came to stay at our house in Abu Dhabi. I don't remember our time together much, but I do remember being this happy addition to our family for the time they were there. It felt comfortable and it felt warm. Grandad's have this air about them anyway that just screams cuddly and happy, which is exactly what he was like. 

Unfortunately one of the only vivid memories I have about my grandma is when I saw her for the last time at her funeral. In fact that's one of my most earliest childhood memories in general - and not a pleasant one either. I remember not understanding much about death and not really understanding the concept that I would not see my grandma again. I felt no emotion towards it, and only felt sad when I saw my dad and uncles in tears around her. That's quite a poignant thing to see at such a young age. There were other things about her funeral that I remember - such as the smells and sounds around me. But there are so many blanks and blurs that I'm unable to fill it in. Due to this, I've only ever really known what kind of person she was through my family. I get the feeling she was quite strict, but also terribly loving. 

As for my grandad - it's going to be two years since he passed on. I knew him the most out of all my grandparents because I spent so much time with him and lived in the same town. He was everything a grandad could have been in terms of his personality and his humour. He was a vibrant and completely carefree person. I would spend hours with him just sitting around and doing odd jobs for him - like cutting his nails, taking out his (very) old passports or giving him a head/back massage. There were then the mandatory food-runs I used to do for him, for naughty gujarati snacks (fried and spicy mostly), which he would pretty much force me to buy. By telling me I wanted them. When I didn't. He was really smart! He was a massive foodie. Like my father, he also lived to eat. Health concerns could take a toss for all he cared, because he knew he had one life, and it had to be filled with great food! 

I think, what I miss about him the most are his stories - especially about my dad and my uncles/aunt. He remembered them in their childhood so clearly and fondly - it's like he was just there a few days prior. No matter what happened to him in his life, he was never sad for too long and that was an admirable quality. Of course, as the years progressed and his health worsened, he did become grumpier and uncomfortable in general.  

A specific memory comes to mind with him.. It was a couple of months before he passed away, and my sister and I went to see him in hospital one night. He wasn't doing very well, and it was scary seeing him joined to all these strange machines that beeped every now and then, until I realised that it was a heart monitor, and his heart was literally skipping beats. He was in and out of sleep and it was quiet in there. We just wanted to spend time with him so we didn't do much but attend to him if he needed something. After a while, he got up slightly and looked at my sister, piercingly and said, "do you think about your dad?" and I could feel her reaction seeping in to me, as we went back in to his bed and closed his eyes. She stuttered, "Yes, dada, all the time".. And he didn't say a word after that. He just laid there and went in to a deep slumber. There was this look in his eyes, and it felt like there was a purpose to his direct question. But we didn't know what it was, all we knew was that we felt really sad. 

My grandad never asked me about my dad. After his passing, I never once spoke about my dad's death to him and he never mentioned it to me. It wasn't a concious decision or anything, it was just not something we communicated about. All I knew was that a part of him was lost after he lost his son. When you met him though, you'd never really realise that his life was so rich with a variety of hardships and other experiences. He was a charitable man, he always did good and most of all he had this hold on our family that felt like we had this umbrella protecting us from bad storms. 

My maternal grandparents lived in India and unfortunately I didn't see them as often as I would have liked to. I do however remember them very clearly and remember spending wonderful times with them. I was also very scared of my grandad - he was like a militant person, someone who lived by rules (yes, the total opposite to what my very base is made of!) and time. He liked his routine and it suited him well. He would speak to me in English - probably because he didn't want me to butcher Gujarati any further than I would have done in our previous conversation - and it was absolutely wonderful. He was a good man. He used to tell some good stories, especially towards the evening - when we'd all sit together outside in the veranda after our dinner. He'd often just give me money and ask me to go buy treats with my cousins for the whole family - usually vanilla ice cream (you HAVE to taste vanilla ice cream in India, it's am-ah-az-aing. And I'm not a vanilla person). He was very loving and quite an emotional person. Every time we'd leave to go back to Dubai/London, he'd cry and it would move me to no end. I think I get my love for Indian snacks and picky-type food from him.

My grandma was like the fairy godmother in Cinderella. I can't give you a better description - she looked just like her, and was so incredibly loving, patient and good-natured. I never remember her getting angry or being upset when we used to go to India. And oh dear lord, her food! She was the most amazing cook in the world. Her hands had magic in them. She cooked such great food, and I remember overeating, overindulging and hence becoming over-weight every holiday. It felt like pure bliss being around her and the rest of the family when we were there - it was welcoming and so very relaxing. Also, the town they lived in remains to be one of the most calmest places I've ever visited. 

She was completely cute. Short and a bit round, and had these big eyes. I'd pull her cheeks often, and tower over her even at 12. I'd teach her bits of English and then proceed to tease her after for ages regarding something or another. My dad also enjoyed doing that, I hear! But what I remember about her was her happiness - and how hard she worked. She was a great figure of strength for my mum after my dad passed away, but unfortunately memories of her and my grandad being around aren't something that exist in my mind. 

As I grew older and learnt about my grandparents in general - I realised that their lives weren't easy. They had great stories, ones that should have been shared - over and over. They were the kind of people that journalists could sit with for hours on end. That kind of thing.

Often times, I feel like I forget that they are a part of my life. I forget that actually, I learnt something from each and every one of them in some way or another. It saddens me to no end though, that I did not get to spend enough time with them. I wish they were still around so they could witness me growing up, along with listening to all of their lives histories first handedly.

I feel a bit sombre knowing that so many big events have come and gone in my life and yet apart from my mum, the "big" people in my life weren't around to take part in them. Of course, going forward it will only get more apparent - as I get married, or have kids and the like. 

However, there is this space inside me that I know I can go to whenever I wish to - and feel contented knowing that they're all in a better place, and that they were and remain to be some of the most wonderful personalities and human beings I've had the pleasure of knowing and being related to. Now that's a great thought.

Dada and Dadi (Paternal Grandparents)

Nana and Nani (Maternal Grandparents)