Posted in Personal Stories

Exploring our Personal Spaces


It has been almost three weeks now since offices shut down, schools closed and shelter in place directives were declared to urge all county members to stay at home. This was also a time when within the duration of a few diurnal spins – the economy came to a sputtering free fall in one swift blow.

Life is going on, but we have quickly unlearned what it means to be human in the context of modern living. If you care for your community and city – stay away. Human touch is hazardous. Withdrawing from the community and staying at home has become the communal pact for survival.

The compromise dawned on us like the five stages of grief. First it was denial, then bargaining with the status quo, until we were at an acceptance of what we’ve lost. In the past, our personal places had always been a part of our daily mad rush to do things, but not really at the center stage of our existence. Over the last few days, they have become the entire universe of where we exist.

And with this , dawns a new awareness of the personal space around us.

I now know that the sixth tile in the flooring of my kitchen creaks when you step on it while leaning on the counter. And discover a nest with shrill croaks of invisible birds just outside my balcony that intensifies in the afternoons. I am aware of the harsh golden glare that sunset would bring on my favorite work spot in the living room, and I would have to take my work ( and laptop ) elsewhere  as soon as the clock strikes 5. 

I can now calculate that the ascending tempo of the whistling wind outside our cathedral ceilings is a prelude to a draft picking up. The kitchen windows would start rattling , so it’s time to close the patio.

The common wall of our townhome exposes us to filtered sounds from other personal spaces. I now know that my nameless, invisible neighbor gets agitated in the afternoons and plays Nirvana’s “Never-mind” on a nonstop loop until nightfall settles his ( or her? ) nerves. We joke – this grunge fan doesn’t seem to be taking social distancing too well.

The bookshelves have become the new muse – luring me with unfinished books which were waiting for an opportune time to be completed. I now look forward to Friday evenings as a way to context switch into a weekend when my home would magically switch from being a workplace to a  place of leisure. Work and Life have congealed into one unified endless flatline.

The empty streets with weak signs of public life outside fill me with anxiety. Is it my imagination , or are the sirens of emergency vehicles becoming increasingly frequent over the last few days ?

On the very rare and essential scenarios when we step outside – I am now acutely wary of every cough , sneeze and sniffle around me.  Every surface is analyzed for the possibility of carrying a deadly virus that would apprehend and wreak havoc on our lives. We innovate maneuvers to avoid touching doorknobs, crosswalk signs, shopping carts .. any bug smeared common surface at all costs. And then we come home and wash hands like the Macbeths.  

Personal spaces have become inviolable bubbles – it is dangerous to step outside them. And yet, like a whiff of wind that suddenly blows in your face – they continue to surprise with new experiences.

This bubble is starting to grow on me. Ahem. well ..Who knew our personal spaces could be alive with such vibrant details now?

Photo by Naomi Hébert on Unsplash

Posted in Personal Stories

Good Morning


The view from my window is an ordinary one. Right outside, there are wiry branches of this tree which has lost all its leaves. I do not remember if the leaves were lost in fall or this tree has been stricken like this most of its life. 

I look beyond these dry branches and at first sight , there is darkness and the sky is silhouetted with varying shades of black and dark blue.  You can see an outline of the Cupertino hills far away, dotted with tiny specks of lights – like fireflies. 

Except that they are houses with real people .  Million dollar houses nestled in the slopes and carpeted by dense woods and popular trails. And as I observe closely, I can see thousands of them – or perhaps those are streetlights. It is hard to tell. 

The Silicon Valley is a valley in the true sense. Take any major freeway or expressway, and you would be able to view hills hugging the horizon. Like this one from my window, where the summits  manifest themselves even in complete nightfall.

But in a few minutes, everything would change.

The sun would rise, and then darkness would be transformed with light. Shades of black and dusk blue would suddenly morph into a multitude of colors.  The light would reveal endless details in the landscape before me – like nuggets of surprises to color an ordinary day.  I have been looking at this view for many months, but every time there is a new detail which emerges, 

Like somewhere between me and mountains ranges before me where there is a house which has two very tall palm trees in it. They stand out and  next to each other like an Eleven. Is it a sign ? Or like the moments when the sun strikes the houses nestled on the hills, and they sparkle back!. Figment of my imagination ? Or solar panels striking the sun’s rays at an angle ?

Every night, the world outside dies and awakens in the morning with these brilliant details. 

My spot on the couch by the window connects me to two different lenses of the world.

As the light fills in and wakes up the world outside me, I can hear stirring sounds from the rooms inside. A trickle of water in the sink.. the faint hum of the microwave singing with morning coffee..the pitter patter of little feet ..  tiny fingers that tug at your hair with sleepy good mornings .. The warmth of love enveloping as my dear ones wake up , and embrace a new day

This is the moment my reverie is broken. There is work to be done, to do lists to be completed. Moments of reflection transform into “military moments” – as I began planning my day ahead , identifying and attacking hurdles, problem solving, 

Like I said –  yet another ordinary day ahead.

Photo by Danielle MacInnes on Unsplash

Posted in Personal Stories

The Cross Walk


It was a bright new day in an unfamiliar country. Fresh off the boat – just a day into the United States, I stepped out with the toddler in tow for a walk around the neighborhood. There was a huge park right in front of our house, surrounded by roads and cars whizzing past. The sights and smells were new – as we were beginning to get accustomed to life in a new country. We didn’t know how long we are going to live here, nor realized what it will take us to blend into life in this habitat. All that we knew was that we are here… and let the adventure begin…

So coming back to the story –  I am taking the girl out for a walk. She is 14 months old and I am using a stroller to move her around. Both of us are soaking in the new world we are in – me being particularly overprotective and motherly about it. At that time I had moved to the country without a job – so both mother and daughter had plenty of time to kill during the day. It was lunchtime, and with the help of Google maps and some fuzzy toddler translation, we zoomed down on a local restaurant to have our lunch in.. The trek began and everything was hunky dory until we reached an obstacle that we have to cross to reach the other end – a road!

Now normally, you wouldn’t consider crossing a road a huge hurdle, right? You will say – Ah, just wait for the light to turn green, and you can cross. Yay!!.  I thought so too.. waited for the light to turn green and some pedestrian sign to show up – but it never did. The light did turn from red to green, but the cars continued to zip past.  I waited and waited.. then we got a bit uncomfortable. At this point, I am getting more and more worried – How on Earth do people cross the road in California ??

As all humans do in situations like this ( to not look foolish )  – we observe around us and try to copy what everyone else up to. And that generally helps you get to the answer to your question.  So I patiently prevail and bide my time…

The light turns green again. I see this lady in high heels hurry up and stand right next to me. The traffic is a bit slow… she furtively glances on both sides of the road and then quickly sprints across it when no car is in sight.   I’m half in a mind to follow her, my muscles tense for a split second..but I stop.  My instincts tell me that something is wrong –  That most certainly doesn’t seem to be the right way to cross the road in a civilized country! So I dig my heels to prevent myself from dashing behind her. The kid is fidgeting in the stroller — and I’m still hanging around.

A minute passes by and this dude comes along – casual jeans and hoodie, half whistling under the breath. He presses a button on the lamp post beside the street and disappears into his phone. I am observing him very carefully ( and pretending not to) – by the looks of it  – he definitely seems to be on to something. And lo and behold.. a blinking white man ( the pedestrian sign ) started flickering on the other side of the street. Today, it is a very familiar sight for me, but at that time it seemed like a sign from the heavens! A blinking pedestrian sign accompanied by an intermittent beep emanating from the lamp post across the street – and I know that we have been saved. Hallelujah… Now we can cross the road!

As I look back to this day – this was not a life-changing moment. It was a run of the mill experience – my first learning out of the innumerable discoveries to follow.

But it taught me a very significant lesson – To listen to and trust my Instincts. 

I mean – it is a marvelous thing – how the brain makes snap decisions – trustworthy/not trustworthy, good/not good, Safe/not safe… The instinct of recognizing dangers and steering yourselves into safety has been bored into our heads so immaculately over millions of years and is certainly something that the human mind can neither explain nor ignore!

 

Image credits: Unsplash.com