Nostalgia: First Lancer Road

Today, I discovered that my hair clutcher is a memory object. A regular glance at this mundane, plastic accessory drowned me into a vortex of memories so strong, that the streets, the people and the sights appeared in a tumble of PowerPoint slides. 

First Lancer Road, Masab Tank. My friend and I had bought a few trinkets at a shop there after a heritage walk conducted by Haseeb Jafferi. The shop, with the shimmery bangles, neon blouse pieces and mannequins with stylish wigs, had rubbed some of its garish sparkle on me too. That is why, instead of going for the plain ones which I usually wear, I chose this. The shiny flowers of stone on the clutcher had my heart. "I will wear it when I feel fancy, " I told my friend. 

But the story doesn't start here. It started many many years ago when I used to live as a 'paying guest' in one of the houses there. How do I describe First Lancer? In the initial days, it was an assault on the senses with the prayers from the multiple temples and mosques, the narrow roads on which sewer water ran most of the year, the perpetually crowded A1 Stationery Shop. Humans, vehicles and the occasional cows moved in no particular direction, and as if, to compensate for the mess, jewelry shops displayed their finest glittery faux items at their entrances. Harassment on the streets was a regular affair, and my friend (another one) and I would hold hands and walk after sunset. 

I was more adventurous in daylight though. I remember sitting gingerly on the bench in Nasheman Hotel and having my tea leisurely. The absence of solo women and the stares used to trouble me initially, but slowly, the area and I fell into the comfortable silence that only strangers can enjoy. Threading sessions at the beauty parlour were always followed by grilled chicken from the hole-in-the-wall Dine Hill. 

It was on these streets that I had practised driving my scooter, before going all-out into the bad, mad world of main roads. I remember waiting at a traffic signal for the first time in my life, near Balaji Grand Bazaar. As I turned left with trembling hands, I was almost sure that was my last day on Mother Earth. And then, I became one with the traffic. 

There was a flower seller who used to sit opposite Agra Sweets. He used to have a wicker basket full of red roses, and a few handfuls of jasmine flowers. Every day, I used to buy one rose from him for Re 1. On some days, he used to press some 3-4 roses into my hands, and refused to take extra money. This little, daily exchange used to bring me so much joy. The flowers were fragrant and the seller chacha so kind. Today, after I have failed to spot him for several years, I regret never asking his name. 

I am filled with a strange sense of gratitude for the people who lent me space cheap because I had left a cushy job to become a journalist, or the elderly flower seller who thought I deserved more flowers. All those years, on these streets, I have dreamt, worked, drunk numerous cups of tea, walked kilometers. 

And all through these years in this city, on a street called First Lancer, I hustled and lived. 

Being an adult orphan amid pandemic

A few days ago, a friend sent me a video on loneliness, which showed the number of connections people usually make in their lives. The smallest circle was with family members where there were five connections. After I realised that I do not have those five connections, something clicked in my mind. Is this the reason behind my anxiety attacks? Right now, when the whole world is enveloped in pandemic anxiety, mental health issues are being discussed openly. One of the frequent pieces of advice you come across is : “Talk to friends and family.” However, there might be people who, like me, have lost their parents. There might be people who have to be a caregiver for a sibling.

There might also be others who have been depressed for so long that reaching out and making friends can look like an indomitable task. During this pandemic, where death hangs like the Sword of Damocles, people who have seen death multiple times might re-live the experiences once more, undoing all the hard work they might have put to restore themselves after the tragedies. There are multiple layers of fear - of death, of losing another loved one, of being seen as a weak person, of losing job, of being stuck in a medical emergency, and of returning to the same, old abyss. But yet, as Emily Dickinson had said, ‘hope sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.’

Even if you have hit the rock bottom and then some more, a dekko at the gibbous moon can tell you that there are a few things which are functioning on their own. Maybe, we can too. Even on a bad day, you can fill your mind your music and shut it for a while. You will also notice that the fragrance of cinnamon tea is still registered by your brain, and a cat’s insistent nudges force you to respond. In these small ways, you will live, and on some days, that is enough. And the best part is you will find kindness - loads of it, and you will find friends, too. Being an adult orphan and living alone during a pandemic is tough. However, there are a few things that have helped me. Hope it helps you too. 

Forgive yourself: On a few days, you might not achieve much. The food you prepared might not turn out the way you expected, or you might have missed a doctor’s appointment. Turn off the pesky critical voice in your head and rest. You can attempt again the next day.

E-essentials: Try to find digital p l a t f o r m s which you can use to buy groceries, consult doctors, receive payments etc. Once you get these out of the way, you can be assured about getting help without a n y h u m a n intervention.

Maintain a routine: This is really tough, but doing this helped me tide over my earlier crises. Eating food and sleeping on time go a long way in assuring good mental health. Celebrate progress, however small.

Find what brings you joy: Books? Food? Music? Movies? Find things which help take your mind off the things around you.

Be your own cheerleader: Being in a vulnerable spot can attract a lot of pity, attention and advice. Though you might be looking for words of comfort, a lot of things that people (including therapists) say might not resonate with you. At such times, you must stick by your own side, and recognise that you are allowed to tread a different path.

Crying: It is a great way to let out pent-up stress. Do not see it as a sign of weakness. Grieve when you need to.

Be careful about sharing your story: Not having a family will leave you in a constant state of vulnerability, seeking connection. You might open up to a person who does not care about your story, or can even take advantage of you. A good friend will give you a safe space to vent out. She will support you through actions, not merely through words.

Patience: There will be periods when there will be a lot of pain, and there will be no one to turn to. On such days (and nights), you accept your situation and wait for the tide to change.

Seek help: In the midst of this gloom, there are people who will help you. Follow your gut and seek out people who do not judge or pity you. You will be surprised by how you will always find the person you need.

Restrict social media: Cannot stress this enough. You will immediately start feeling better once you detach from the virtual world, and muster the courage to be alone with your thoughts. 

(Published in Hyderabad Express on June 1) https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.newindianexpress.com/cities/hyderabad/2020/jun/01/being-an-adult-orphan-amid-pandemic-2150932.amp