Reflections of a restless eccentric

 In the recent couple of months, I have found it exceedingly hard to write. My city and country have been ravaged by the pandemic, and I have been struggling to remain positive. My work desk faces one of the busiest junctions in Bangalore, and for the past couple of weeks the ambulances have been wailing non-stop. I hear them even in my nightmares, and I so badly wish they would stop. I stopped reading the news, I stopped looking at the bleak statistics, but somehow I cannot shut out the ambulance sounds. I shudder at the thought of all the people who are sick, and are not even able to receive timely medical intervention. I am pained by the thought of so many people losing their near and dear ones. I worry so much about my own first circle. I try to go down for a walk everyday, because it is a very fine thread that my sanity is hanging by, and that thread is this walk. Today too, I promptly stepped out with my husband around 6. We got into the lift and were instantly lost in our ph...

This has been lying in my drafts for a month now, and I decided to spruce it up and send it out into the world. Disclaimer: As I have said many times in the past, I am aware that I am quite privileged and that my problems are very first world ones. Yet, I choose to write about this for two reasons: Writing is my first and best coping mechanism, and it helps me deal with the several frustrations of adulthood that make me feel powerless. Second, it is a true and holistic picture of my life. To much of the outside world, my descriptors are superficial labels- student, wife, daughter. But to my Reader, I will be nothing but honest. I want you to know my eternal struggle to do justice to all of these roles, to see the constant juggling that sometimes leaves me drained. I want you to know that whatever you are going through, you're not alone. Close to midnight on a Sunday, you find me here, typing this out feverishly. What happened, you ask? I'm dying to tell you. Well, it started ou...