simply being and wanting to watch the northern lights (and more)

after an 11 hour workday, amidst a restaurant that was just 10 mins away from its last order, 3 of my colleagues and i were speaking about how we’d wish to pass. I refuse to write about how this conversation came up & I will not answer any questions on it either, but on hearing my answer about how I’ll be okay with this life ending only after I’ve witnessed the northern lights with these eyes, my colleague said “wait till you watch the northern lights, and you’ll find more reasons to live.” i sat there speechless for what felt like 2 hours completely absorbing what I just heard. once while listening to one of my favourite podcasts, I paused it, and wrote what one of the guests said- “it is easier to see the beginning of things, and harder to see the ends.” up until the time I graduated, I’ve never looked at living the way I do now. Whoever told me (and it’s a long list, because most people did) that getting an education or getting through college will prepare you for what’s next either hadn’t seen what really comes next or had outsmarted the phenomenon of adulting.

None of my textbooks have taught me that a humongous part of living is growing up and is about leaving things behind, one after the other until the only thing you have left is yourself. None of my teachers have taught me how to digest bitter truths, especially when they come from people you think are closest to you. I can write a ridiculous amount of pages about how hilarious & overwhelming it is to spend each waking hour with yourself, but I’ll spare myself the rewind and write this essay instead. Today, I met a friend from my hometown right after work & was reminded of how far away I live from the feeling of having a plan with a non-work friend in this city. What surprised me however was how underdressed I was for 13° in a shirt that was practically paper thin with a jacket, no layers, no shawls, just braving the cold, without even slightly shivering, while my friend was all dressed up in her winter wardrobe which was newly taking shape. While eating my favourite dinner, she was asking me how I’m doing in the ice cold winters, I answered, to my own shock that “it’s much warmer now, last month was really cold.” Ironic as it is, it’s a warm feeling to see how the winter is growing on me.

My brain surprises me with the sheer amount of tomfoolery it has in store, more intense with each passing day, but I can’t stop thinking about how I thought I’d never survive the cold, never be truly happy, and a part of me would always miss home. After I reached home #2 tonight, I wondered (almost scared) about how my life would’ve been if I’d never left. I’d never know what it means to truly find myself, I’d never have to threaten Uber drivers and make them get me to work on time and I’d never be at a coco ichibanya eating veg curry after a long work day.

A couple years back, in college, I volunteered for a mentorship program and the founder there had told us ‘there’s someone out there who’d kill to be where you are right now’ within the first 10 mins of the orientation and more than me offering anything to my mentees, the program taught this girl to dream.

The 2020 me wanted to do everything in her power to have a major in economics, have a steady source of income, and live a life which, back then was a dream. I feel imposter everyday as I walk towards the lift, but in retrospect, I see a 3am, 2 more modules, 1 more assignment & a 0 hours of sleep and what makes me belong (apart from the fact that literally everyone in the apartment I stay at works at the same office complex) is only the fact that I’m making my past self proud. One of the most impending realisations I had as a young adult recently is that I’m allowed to be in love with two cities at a time.

There are days when I feel like I’m definitely more creative than looking at numbers for a living, there are days when multiple things consecutively going wrong lead me to believe that the rock bottom is above me and it terrifies me more than anything to comprehend that there’s a slight chance I might not like the life I’m working so hard to build, realising that the trips I took on a whim, once, sometimes twice within 30 days were definitely a way of escaping something (I still don’t know what) but what makes it bearable is these tiny moments of simply being- smelling fresh laundry, coming home to a clean room (which you tidied up before leaving), in the living history of a heritage walk, in the tiny laughs from a long work day, in the slow sips of iced coffee and the soft moonlight under the qutub.