Notes on turning 30
Last August, a day before my birthday, I left Providence (the city I live in) for Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I had heard wonderful things about this place and decided that it will be the perfect getaway for the weekend. And so, a ferry ride later I was in Provincetown.
Once there, I walked around, hopped onto a bike and went to the Herring Cove beach. The day was semi-cloudy but it was not raining (phew!). I lay on a beach mat, watched the waves, ate a sandwich with chips. I watched people, talked to my folks back home, then I went into the sea and let it take me. I lay flat on my back in the water as time went by. After what felt like 10-15 minutes but in reality was only two, I raised my head and looked around, I was farther than the farthest person I could see in the sea. I swam freestyle closer to the shore and this time lay on the water horizontally. The next time I raised my head, the currents had turned my body diagonally and I was slowly being carried away. But I could only let the waves carry me so far. Even when on the rare occasion that I want to relinquish control, I still want to hold on to dear life. Although the irony of letting go to that extent on a birthday is not lost on me. And then I swam back again. I am usually confident
to it swam; cleaned myself; biked to where the shops, cafes were; walked into stores; shopped for friends and my sister; let someone write me a poem. In the evening I— found a cute café & had a big dinner; walked; ate tomato soup; took a bus to Truro; made a friend; went to a beach bonfire; saw a fox; slept in a hostel dorm.
And just like that came my 30th: simply and blissfully. A day that actually began with some doubt, eventually built into one that enabled me to trust and let go. It has paved the way for my hopes, dreams and goals for the decade, to attain newer dimensions. Below are some more of my notes from the day I turned 30:
Now, reflecting back—
This day, I was poetically inclined. Clearly!
Why? I believe the impetus was there, externally and internally, that inspired me to the point of poetry. I believe that I was more of a poet when I was younger and had not read Sarojini Naidu, Christina Rosetti, Shakespeare, the Romantics, and more! For a long time my own writing was restricted to an obscure corner of my mind that would make a sudden appearance in my personal diary. No one was allowed to read it. The hasty, scribbled rants were usually inspired by meltdowns. I have grown since, an inner voice standing strong. I don’t compare my work anymore. I am here to tell my stories and that of others histories, ideas, imaginations, futures. And I will do that in the way that resonates with me the most. So with this is a promise to self of undeterred growth, that allows others around me to grow as well.The choice of a beach was not frivolous. I have a deep affinity for them, a friendship with the blues— of water and open sky, that makes the most mundane of moments quite pleasant. As I age, being close to water is increasingly becoming a sure shot way of inducing happiness, calmness and “letting go” for me. The water runs its own course. It doesn’t ask or depend, it chooses. It is as unpredictable and raging as it is calm. It is my belief that adventure and peace aren’t mutually exclusive. There is a soft spot of their co-existence. As for me, it isn’t an either/or, rather it is my choice to prioritize both.
In my side of the world a solo trip is radical. It doesn’t happen that often. At the Herring Cove beach, I remember seeing a lot of people with friends or family. I do not remember seeing anyone who was there alone. I observed some of these people, not deeply, just in the passing. Their dynamics, their conversations. Looking around, I was at ease. Believe it or not, it was the feeling of anonymity that let me relax. I didn’t have to think of being a person who is brown or Indian, or a woman, or an alien, or the other— I was just there. Just to give some context, I have felt more aware and conscious of my above identities in an emphatic way ever since I came to the States. That is not to say that profiling does not exist anywhere else in the world, but rather, this is my first long-ish stint of being in a country where I am a minority in more ways than one. So when I was at the beach laying under the cloudy sky or in the sea swimming, anonymity was not scary. It allowed me to relax and refresh. It let me be. This is a reminder to pause periodically. For in these commas and semi-colons lie the fuel for creativity, a chance at magic— which is never enough in the world. My intention going forward is to be comfortable in pausing some aspects of my choosing to make way for new ones.
Now, I have spent many a— birthdays surrounded by my loved ones and I am extremely grateful to them. Recently, struck by the loss of two very important people in my life, my definitions of celebration have changed radically. For me, celebrations are not just loud and full of dopamine. They are together, with people, and they are also when I am alone: no frills, no perspiration. I celebrate moments of sharing food or chai, walking or napping together, taking trips, journeying to see my people, being by myself and feeling happy, sharing warmth and freedom. Living independently has been a lovely change quite unexpectedly. It has allowed me to connect, share and engage with more people in a profound manner. I has enabled to embrace possibilities and be more vocal about my feelings in a strong way. Promising myself more growth, adventure, strength, love and peace, I have decided to publish a blog on each subsequent birthday in this decade of my life.
Embracing what lies ahead and looking back at all the bigger decisions and seemingly insignificant ones that have brought me to where I am, I feel okay. In a mildly ecstatic way. To end my notes on the turn of the decade-coming of age, I quintessentially want to say that have a growing list of things that I want to accomplish0— yes! But in every pause that I take, I remember that I am here, I am breathing, and that is enough.
