What makes us click?

Do you remember watching Sabrina growing up? Practicing her signature nose twitch in front of the mirror? I never seemed to get it quite right, but it’s safe to say that I’ve always wanted to be a witch.

Why?

Is that even a valid question? Who wouldn’t want to change the world at the twitch of their nose? But, that’s a different story, for some other day.

Last night, while taking my midnight stroll something reminded me about the show.

No, I didn’t glimpse a swanky broomed miss whooshing the ebony skies.

But I spotted a beautiful black cat, exactly like Salem! He was perched gracefully on our sidewalk.

I could almost see him rolling his emerald green eyes, spewing a sarcastic retort like, “Cat got your tongue, sugar?”, when he caught me staring at him.

I’m sure you wildlife enthusiasts are thinking that this was a very mundane sighting, that I’m trying to make my little time outside the walls of home sound fantastical. You’re absolutely right! Cut me some slack, we’re still in the middle of a pandemic.

However, I do have an epiphany to share.

It has little to do with the gorgeous feline I had spotted, and more with my response to him.

I found myself subconsciously reaching for my phone to click a picture, lest he slinked away before I could click him.

It stopped me in my tracks for a moment.

Why did I need to click that picture?

Why did I need to validate the beauty of this moment with digital proof? Why couldn’t I just admire this ebony cat, instead of trying to capture its fleeting presence in my life?

It got me thinking, that as human beings immersed in a digital age, we’re never fully living our present. Rather, we’re capturing it for our future selves, or to share with others when the moment has passed, not realizing that we’ve never actually experienced the moment itself.

I’ve done this a gazillion times. With friends, food, sunsets and birds. I’m sure you must have too?

But is it right to blame this on the digital age? Isn’t that an extension of the popular refrain, “Kids these days! They’re always on their phones” ?

While it’s tough to refute this borderline universal claim, I would like to believe that there’s something more human driving our instincts to capture these moments.

Mortal life at its core is both fleeting and uncertain. Moments of pure wonder and happiness are rare. They dot our days very sporadically.

I think we choose to capture them so that we can remember. Not just that moment, but also remember the bigger picture.

When the endless days of existence get to us, these snapshots remind us about the inexplicably rich piece of art we’re part of and are extending in our own small ways.

They teach us that there’s beauty even in the mundane, we just have to pause for a moment and look around. We don’t have to wait for milestones to celebrate, because life definitely isn’t a road trip!

Chiku childhood

To my friendly neighbourhood auntie, I’m sorry I stole from you!

The smell of ripe chikus, combined with the adrenaline rush of jumping from that tiny wall dividing our homes, was just too much to resist!

I was too young to realize that the trees were like your babies.

It hurt you when I maimed them with my juvenile misadventures.

You had nurtured them. Planted them with love. Watered them every morning like clock-work. And watched them bloom a little every year. Much like you, they wore signs of a life lived. They had weathered many storms, in stoic silence and stood strong despite its ravages.

Like much of my childhood, our beginning is a blur. I don’t know how I won your friendship. How did I grow from delinquent to brunch companion? Why did you open your home to me? Was it loneliness? Or my persistence? I’ll never know.

But, whenever I try to jigsaw my early memories, it’s your walls I remember— the mosaic pebble-like pattern of green, white and black. The smell of filter coffee, and the sound of your rocking chair. And, the first time I met your kittens! They became stronger lures for me than the chikus.

Toffee was my favourite. Chikki, a close second.

(I remember arguing with my nanny, who was always trying to get me back home for lunch, that I had to go and feed them! They wouldn’t eat without me, right? I couldn’t starve them of my company.)

Your home was quiet, you never put on any music to break the silence. The TV didn’t blare its background static either. I like to think that I was very adult about my companionship. That we shared the silence. You read your magazine, and I played with my marbles. But, on reconsideration, I think you learned to keep me occupied with books and games. So that, like you, I would have something to do.

We had chikus for breakfast today, and it struck me. That you shaped the woman I am. I carry your love for kittens, curd rice and chess with me, even today. Thank you, for opening your heart and home to me. For sharing your time and thoughts. Thank you, for nurturing me like your chiku trees.

Silence

. . . . .

How does one convey silence in words?

. . . . .

These small dots promise too much. They come with the pressure of conversation, an implied attempt at meaning making and connection. But, why must we talk about it to begin with? It seems almost hypocritical to talk about silence, right? It’s an experience to embrace or evade, not something to analyze to smithereens! Yet, here I am doing just that. Using my everlasting love for words to share an epiphany about the lack of them with you.

I’ve always been chatty! And, I have no qualms about the gossip-y tinge which burdens this word. Having been through a phase in high school, where I guarded my words, I’ve liberated my tongue for eternity- she wasn’t too happy being shushed. If you know me, then you know exactly how much I love being the chit behind all the chat.

While there have been many fun conversations, there’s also a dark side to this trait. I’m terrified of silence! Car rides without music- yeah, those are hellish for me. Meditation? This hallowed nirvana has always put me to sleep. Or made my mind do some excessive and unnecessary cardio- where I connect the dots to infinity or make up mental puzzles of people, moments and motivations.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve experienced that oft romanticized silence with a dear “friend”, while we watched the sun set with a cup of chai shared between us. And, of course no one can evade the stray awkward ones among strangers- where you’re searching for the right size of small talk, oscillating between your shared childhood traumas and the weather.

But, I’ve never embraced it. Head on, like diving into the clear blue ocean.

Today, I finally did.

Steeped myself in it like chai-patti, and discovered the silence of being alone. Absolutely alone with my mind. Playing no games.

It didn’t last long!

Not, with Ronnie & Goofy barking at the neighbour’s cat, and Pappu Bhaiya commenting about their enmity. But, I’m proud to say that for a moment, the silence didn’t overwhelm me.

I didn’t feel the need to reach for my phone and fill it with an aimless scroll. Or peep at the clock, and let its hands castigate my unproductivity.

For that one moment, I just let everything be.

There’s a Hindi word for it- ठहराव. A stillness. Where you don’t seek to find the meaning of the present moment or attempt to connect it with the next.

The writer in me could be needlessly romanticizing a moment of normalcy in this age of anxiety.

So be it! I needed to record it. Cherish it.

Maybe, an older me will look back and cringe at how benign and trivial my youthful epiphanies were.

But, today I’m going to marvel in it. Savour that one moment, where I stood still while time crept on, and reckoned with the transience of me, us and the things around us.

A mere moment- soon to be lost to the hustle of everyday.