Engayging Life

I have been away from the blog for two months or so. In those two months, my life has changed for the better.

I might be a 31-year-old qualified surgeon in India. But I don’t practice surgery. Neither am I in a lucrative job – I work as an academic editor in Medicine and Biosciences, and the salary is about one fourth of what my cousins earn. And I live all by myself in Mumbai. This doesn’t augur well for my finances. I’m yet to await the final word regarding my appraisal this year and I fear that my hopes of moving into a better apartment are going to be stalled yet again.

My second profession – music – not only doesn’t bring me enough money but ends up making me spend money with regard to jams in rented jam rooms and dinner/drinking sessions after rehearsals. This has been especially true in the last two months or so. I need to probably opt out of these dinner/drinking sessions to save up some money or else I won’t be saving up any money!

Because of the various rehearsals and also because of the relatively hectic schedule at work, I have not been able to go to the gym regularly. My membership is due for renewal in April, which is around the time my apartment lease is going to expire. I guess I will have to stick to the same apartment for at least another year. The big burning question is – should I renew my gym membership? I guess I should as that’s the only investment on health that I’m making. I think I should cut out on partying and eating/drinking out as a compensation.

Music makes me happy. Very happy. That is the main reason why I’m on a sabbatical from surgery, pursuing a career in music which seems rather optimistic and utopian. There are occasions during which I get pleasantly reminded of the reason behind this sudden diversion in the career path. Live performances to a packed audience, a studio/recording session where everything seems to ‘click,’ a brilliant songwriting moment etc.

Rather more uncommon, however, is the goosebumps experience during a jam session with a band when you get everything right – when you can’t quite believe that the music that you are hearing is being performed by a bunch of people that includes yourself. When that happens, it’s like an orgasm with a loved one (I’m not talking about sex with a random person, mind you).

Yesterday, one such moment happened. It was with my new band Bad Influence. We were auditioning my friend Mik for the drummer’s slot. Mik and I are friends through our freelancing work with the band Pralay. On our menu was the song ‘Sober’ by Tool. It is a relatively difficult song for a drummer, which our previous drummer wasn’t quite able to ‘play.’ Mik arrived, played, and conquered! It sounded simply amazing!

When I left the jam room, I had a big fat smile on my face. Dear world, this is why I’m doing what I’m doing. :-)

Two days back, I got robbed. I was on a BEST bus on my way from work to the gym. I had two bags with me – the regular backpack strapped up against my back and the gym bag on my shoulder. Because I have a tendency to misplace my wallet, I had made sure that I put it in my backpack after drawing enough money from it for the ride.

It was a crowded bus and I jostled my way to the already-crowded area just behind the driver's set. I positioned myself comfortably after depositing my gym bag in a corner, and started tending to my e-mail and FaceBook. Retrospectively, I recall that there was a young man standing adjacent to me struggling for the same space that I had been occupying.

I remember that he had shifted his position briefly, for a minute or so, during the journey. That must have been to unzip my backpack and steal my wallet. As soon as I got into the gym and started undressing, I checked my bag and realized that I had been robbed. I, thanks to my psycho-pharmaceutical cocktail, did not panic. Instead, I started worrying, and started thinking of myself as a bad person.

I came back home in a very self-flaggellatory mood, but had the presence of mind to cancel all my cards. Vinokur tried to give me advice and encouragement. But I know him too well, and am comfortable enough, to not take any definitive action against my impending implosion. After a few minutes of chatting, I left him alone to pursue things that he enjoys even more – things that bring him consistent pleasure – things unlike me.

One of the first things that I did, as a punishment to myself, was to inform my date – the special person that I have been blogging about, and I'm going to title him M – that I'm canceling the date for the next day evening. He called me immediately, and tried to comfort me, but wasn't able to do much good. I insisted that we should cancel the
date.

The next day (yesterday) morning, I sent M a message telling him that I wasn't feeling better and that we are not meeting in the evening. Then I reached my office and things started to change. People, with whom I was not totally comfortable with, started talking about how often such robbery occurs and started making me feel more comfortable about the reparative process that needed to ensue. That cheered me up. I immediately sent M a message about the turnaround and suggested that we might still meet in the evening.

During the day, I went to one of the banks that I had an account in and started the process to get a new debit card. I drew some money and bought myself a new wallet – a physical entity in my life that reminded me that things weren't all that bad and that I'm not a bad person.

At 5.30 pm, I got a call from a person who had found my wallet in the drain near my gym. He asked me to meet up at a certain place in half an hour. I went there in a rickshaw and met this guy. I got my wallet back – everything intact but the money, including the change. I was so happy to get my license, PAN card, and my medical registration ID – three things that would have taken months to renew/replenish.

To celebrate, I decided to skip the gym and meet M early. I was relieved and feeling much better. We went to dinner at a restaurant called Sheesha. Over cherry/mint-flavored sheesha/hukka, we had a wonderful conversation about the entire incident and why it had triggered such a heavy negative feeling toward me. And then we stumbled on the truth – my childhood!

Practically every day in the tender-age period, I was subjected to things like 'Kris, you aren't a good person!', 'You deserve to be punished!’, 'All the bad things that happen to you is because of the bad things that you do, because you didn't respect elders and God!', 'Kris, look at your cousins. See how good and obeying they are? See how they pray and go to temples. If you don't do all this, you will be a bad person all through your life'. This and more such stuff. Everyday. Every conversation.

This was the reason why I had started hating my home. This was the reason why I was a wreck, an introvert, an angry, obstinate child. This was the reason why I had no friends until I broke out of the shackles in med school after interacting with patients, who talked to me and respected me, who were proud of me. This was the reason I'm scarred for life.

Vinokur's childhood was scarred by his father. M's childhood was similar to Vinokur's, but probably less severe in intensity. I am scarred similar to Vinokur, but my scars are hypertrophying with every passing day, I think. And the psycho-pharmaceuticals aren't helping that much.

Is being in your middle age supposed to be like this? It seems to be a time when all you seemingly do in your life is worry, and when everything you do seems like a chore. Those fun things — going to a movie, reading a book, catching up with friends, taking photos and sharing them — everything becomes tasks that you wished you didn’t have to do. Even hobbies — especially if you have made them into an unfulfilling unforgiving profession — aren’t enjoyable.

Probably, it is a phase of life where the amount of hope dwindles, and the amount of expectation, from your friends, society, and you yourself, overwhelms you. In addition, it’s when you tend to make lists of things to do and tasks to accomplish and check a majority of the items off because of lack of time and money. You also would wish to overcome insurmountable barriers because you see others achieving them with ease.

Your life seems stuck at a place which is unpleasant to you, yet not unbearable, and you do things to please others — others who you care for, or who you don’t, who are often at a much happier place in life. You see childish foolish folks around you everywhere you look, who seem to be happy, much too happy for what they deserve, and you wish for a moment as to why you couldn’t be so innocent and naïve.

To add to this, almost everything that you end up doing had to be done because if you don’t, something bad will happen as a consequence to you and to others, who often, almost coincidentally, seem to forget life is not a one way street. Everything seems to be stuck at an unfortunate point in your life, and its easy to find fault every relationship that you have had — be it friend, family, lover, and those with the other people in your head.

Even if I had a time machine, I probably can’t use it to good effect — I hate my past, I dislike my present, and I’m scared about my future.

For the last year or so, I have had the desire to start going to a gym again - again, because, during a brief stint of 3 months or so two years back, when all of us from Shor Bazaar were deluded enough to believe that we could all quit our livelihoods to chase our musical dream, we had all joined a gym and gone there for a month or so, and I had lingered on for a couple of more months. All through out this “plump” phase of my life, I had longed to re-start something healthy, something that would get rid of my ever-growing love handles and paunch.

One of the three reasons that I was intimidated was – two reasons are based on the lack of adequate dispensable income – is that I thought I could not stick to a diet that you are expected to follow once you start working out in a gym. The other reason, of course, was the expenses associated with joining the gym. The third of course was the doubt as to whether I could find enough time and motivation to go there regularly – as regular are almost daily.

So, last month, a lot of money came in – guess what, through music! Yes, both Shor Bazaar and Cirkles are increasing my dispensable income enough for me to think about gym, a new phone, iPod etc – and I decided that enough was enough. Impulsively, almost instantly, I decided to join a gym. On the first day of deciding, I was supposed to check out a couple of gym in the locality. This, of course, barring the one which is right next to my apartment building, on top of the supermarket, which happens to be the biggest (and apparently the most expensive) gym in Asia.

After work, I went to check out the first gym, which is about 10 minutes from my apartment. My budget was around 10 K for an annual membership. In less than 10 minutes, I signed up for the gym after a guided tour and a fantastic package deal offer. I signed up on fourth of April and I have had a really wonderful time at least until now. If anything, I am sticking to the diet in the most practicable way – that should help me restore some health to my ageing body.

It is ironic that I started this new “health” trip almost as soon as I started to have my own mini-bar, the pleasures of which are less available to me now, by choice. But then, this is all of longevity and health, and being a doctor I think I need to portray an image of health and wellness. Yes, here’s to a year of physical activity and healthy eating, the after effect of which will hopefully be a less flabby, more muscular body!

So, yesterday I was at a posh club downtown to watch my friend's band Airport' perform - (I was at Zenzi Mills for all you bitchy Mumbai-ites). They were supposed to start at 9.30 pm. I, like a turd of bullcrap, thought that they would start on time. I mean, which band starts on time anyway - excepting Shoonyas perhaps, but we play at cheapass pubs which have strict time regulations etc.

As I walk in 15 minutes early, I meet my friends (aka the members of the performing band) who are just coming back from their apartment wearing nice fashionable clothes, with gelled hair and the just-got-out-of-the-shower look. Mind you, I'm wearing out-of-fashion boring cheap jeans and a Levi's faded black tee shirt, and slippers, and I look as tired as an old hooker. I exchange my pleasantries with my friends and we all walk in the pub.

We reach the first tier - the place where the gig will happen - and my friends start tuning their guitars and stuff. I look around and I see a group adolescents looking at me expectantly. WTF? How the fuck does a relatively new and upcoming, albeit talented, band have such a desirable fan base - a bunch of idiotic teenage wannabes who groove to silly disco music, wasting their parents' hard-earned blood turned into testicular sweat/intermammary cleft sweat money!

Then, my friends leave for the outside to catch up with their pre-requisite body nicotine levels while I, like a fool, stay back to play with my PDA. And then I realize - there's a fucking b'day party going on! The teenagers are doing mindless shit - like having a competition to decide who falls down to the floor while all of them start spinning around like tops! Jesus Fucking Christ! Give me a break!

I can't fucking believe my loser-of-the-millenium luck man. What am I?

So many things to write about, but so little time. That's the story of my life. In a nutshell, however, I can catalog it here. Here goes...

• I'm back to being up and down. I'm going through a change of medications (antidepressants/antipsychotics/mood stabilizers etc.), perhaps I'll soon reach a stable baseline.
• Twitter is back into my life. I'm tweeting more than ever. If you are a horny gay male bird wanting to mate with me, follow me or my alter-ego Krishna.
• I'm watching plays and hanging out with friends more often.
• I've finally started having my own mini bar at home. I have started out with whisky (Royal Stag), vodka (Sminnoff classic) and beer (Kingfisher Blue). If you are hunky enough, funny enough, or hung enough, please saunter into my apartment after informing me - you might just have the quiet drink of your life.
• I have decided to not move out of my present apartment. That, ufortunately will happen next year. Or so it seems now.
• I'm planning to join a gym! Yeah, I need to get my waist from the present 31 to past 29!
• I've planning to buy an iPod. I want a gigantic storage space for music/videos/movies. iPod Classic?
• I'm making plans to upgrade (in the next 6 months or so) my existing phone (Sony Ericsson P1i) into something even better! I am looking for QWERTY smartphones preferably with huge touch screens preferably on the Android platform. The options that I'm currently considering are as follows:
  
  
  
  • Motorola Milestone (or Droid)
  • BlackBerry Curve 8520/BlackBerry Bold 9000
  • SE Aspen/SE Xperia Mini Pro
  • LG GW 620
  • Others? (Please suggest)

It's hard to even think that, just a few measly weeks back, I would have scornfully laughed at the post that I've just started writing. That's how life changes - so fast, so furiously - to grab your balls at the most unpredictable junctures, sometimes so tenderly, and sometimes so painfully. To my unbelievable good fortune, my life's balls have been licked, swallowed, and sucked tenderly almost all throughout out by my post-depression coming out phase.

I have almost forgotten how I was those few weeks back, when I would break my head in despair as to why I should not enjoy life as it blooms in front of me. This is despite my eternally optimistic and romantic tendencies, which make me forgive even the cruelest of people who have hurt me in the most grueling ways. The mantra is simple -seize the moment, live the present.

How can you be oblivious of such a simple, seemingly obvious principle? Well, by missing out on the treasures that life offers during phases of meekness, stupidity, and of course, depression. I
guess if you have ever gone through a phase when you realize that you did not get to meet the love of your life just because you did not search an online personals site three years earlier (than when you eventually meet him [or her for that matter]). This hits you hard when you also realize that during this period of extra time, you could have perfectly figured out a life that you have always dreamed about. Once such things are experienced once, you should ideally not repeat your mistake.

Similar stuff - you don't meet a potential spouse who has been living in the same city, who you would find perfect, who would find you perfect, just because either of you decided to not hang out in social situations through this period. When you meet him (or for that matter, her), you spend your entire time wondering why, why, why didn't we run into each other before? What could have happened had we done that? Whatall did we miss? Would you get it all back through another person, in another version of your desired present?

It's ironic that I can compare - it's also weird that I choose to compare - this particularly serious life situation to something as trivial as a common cold. When you are fit and fine, do you ever miss how your nose feels unblocked, how your throat and larynx are so well lubricated as to make swallowing, talking, singing so easy, how your mouth tastes nothing but the materials you want to eat, and how your body feels great without aches and pains? You don't. Not until you
have the dreaded coryzal attack.

I hope I will choose to read this post when I am acting stupidly and not enjoying and engaging life!

I always wonder an acceptable quality of life (QOL) is? Is it intimately related to lifestyle and comfort? Are both the same?

In the last two years of my life as a struggling bachelor/artist, I have passed through the 'virtual' worst possible scenarios. Hunger, poverty, infestations, debt, depression, separation, and a helluva lot more. All through this period, I have seen and sampled many a level of 'living' - almost all of them being socially superior to mine. Most of these instances made me feel insecure, and apart from occasional fugues of mania and appreciable amounts of alcohol in blood, nothing has helped me much from feeling miserable.

Then came the real shit - depression. And even further down the lane came therapy.

Now my perspective has changed. The long and short, the broad and narrow, the deep and superficial, have all ceased to be a ghastly blur. I have started to think rationally and perhaps have started planning - maybe not to the extent that would be considered prudent at my age. I have goals to aim at and landmarks to achieve.

For example - renting a decent one BHK (one bedroom, hall, kitchen apartment - for you non-Indians), occasional partying, a few movies, a relaxed time during weekends, progress in music and editing, holistic improvement, avoidance of wasting time, occasional indulgence, a complete (albeit cheap) wardrobe, vacation, solitude, quietness, enjoying art... The list could go on and on.

Two questions remain:

1. Is this what quality of life means to all of you? I pose this question to my readers.

2. What has changed?

Is it my graduation? Is it the thrilling experience at my job (it's been about a year since I started working)? Reaching the over-hyped landmark of 30 years of age? Therapy for depression? The gradual but progressive weaning from being an eternal optimist/die-hard romantic? Completion of a circle of life? The bitterness of fate? The irony of existence? Love?

The first gig that we had after my trip to Kerala should have been one that I should have remembered ever so fondly for the rest of my life. But sadly it wasn't. Shoonyas were playing at the same resto-bar at the Marine drive and it was Not Just Bad By The Way (pun intended totally). First of all the name of the venue is far too long. Secondly, it's a little cliched as you might have noticed in some of the pictures that I had posted elsewhere on the internet.

It's just lack of practice. Don't worry, not I nor the band have lost our zing. We would be back with a bang. The only thing that was memorable tonight was this hot looking guy who jived with his friend/spouse for our rendition of Beatles and Doors. I wished I could simply knock down the wonderfully dressed woman and join him. Shucks, I had to play the stuff for the jiving to happen, right?

It was disappointing but these days, I don't let myself get disappointed with musical misadventures. Judging by the kind of skill that I have got, I think I have to expect a lot more of those. In the bottom of my heart, though, I know that I'm talented enough to not repeat the mistakes too many times.

This time last year, I was at a great restaurant in Bandra having a party with almost the who's-who of my life then. Life was great. Vibrant, full of hopes and expectations. My friends Dr. R., Sandy, E-boi, Xander, Parry, his girlfriend - all took turns to wish Vinokur his birthday.

Tonight, I sit at my computer trying to wonder what really went wrong. I feel like run-down by a train - a train of responsibilities and challenges that I was not able to keep up with.

Today's exam was the worst ever in my life. Apart from being reporting about half an hour late for the exam thanks to a slow wrist watch, I couldn't answer even one question out of the 9 ones with any semblance of quality. I think any of you (non-medicos) would have fared equally with me in this test. Needless to admit, but my confidence and self-esteem, upto the barest of minimums, has been deflated. Anyone, any fucking person in this world can defeat me now.

As expected, the only fun of this month has passed. It was the gig at Not Just Jazz by the Bay - Shoonyas gig, that is. These are a few pics.

Have you ever felt scared of reality? I am beginning to suspect that I am. It is easier for me to be at my computer chatting with my friends and Vinokur than going out there and being with real friends. Damn, it’s easier for me to be with myself and write on this blog and be with virtual friends too. Is this something that I’m going to get used to as I’m growing old?

I think it’s the levels of stress and hurtful things that I’m avoiding when I’m being with real friends. Real people could hurt you by their vicious comments which are almost always uncalled for. On the internet, people seem to be serene and a lot funnier. Besides, the stream of thought seems to relate too. Obviously you see snidely remarks online as way. But somehow or the other, there is this coating of well-mannered humor in there.

The easiest way to get around to facing the god-forsaken happenings of reality is by using humor. Most people would argue that humor is the best defense mechanism. It helps to get used to it. For me at least, laughing at practical impossibilities is the only way to deal with them, when I can deal with them. Most of the times though, nothing really helps. That’s when I think of getting anti-depressants.

Anyway, in a weird way, the two bands that I play in fit to the analogy between reality and virtual bliss. Of course, they both are ‘real’ bands with living musicians playing ‘real’ instruments. But there is a big difference.

‘Noise Market’ is much bigger and hence more of a pain. Despite the members being funny, it feels more work than pleasure. There is a sort of impending burden when there are scheduled practice sessions or recording session. I fully expect to get hurt and feel bad during sessions with them. Yes, we have a recording label and have cut an album and we are going to be celebrities if things go well. But this professional attitude has definitely taken almost all the ‘fun’ out of being in the band. Since we indulge in original stuff, there is a lot of ego and there are always more arguments and misunderstandings. In short, it feels like real life.

Shoonyas, on the other hand, is almost comical and purposeless. We hardly indulge in regular practice. We don’t have any formed agenda for our future. Of course, there is a lot of talk about how we should become bigger on the scene. But nothing comes out of it. The songs are entirely covers (until now). Hence, work-load is less as well. But it is always fun. Even while goofing up, there are hardly any edgy moments. There is definitely less ego and less pressure.

Tonight, as I type in, my life feels so much better. Why? Maybe because there wasn’t any Noise Market stuff going on - just a fun-filled practice session with Shoonyas.

You know something, I think my blog isn't worthy of this much of my attention. I do a lot of posting and commenting and criticism and other shit. I hardly get any comments and stuff. I have in fact changed my blog's header to a supposedly 'cute' picture and still no comments?

I actually did some research online to estimate how much my blog is worth. It came out to be some 560$ or something. That has at least temporarily saved my ego.

I'm still hurt. It will take some time to recover. You know, I'm an attention seeking, narcissistic arse. I need to be acknowledged and stuff.