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Showing posts from 2019

Adulting?

Several months after turning 30, after over a decade of being able to vote, drive and consume alcohol (except in Maharashtra, where I’ve been legally drinking only since the past 5 years!), I can say I feel like an adult. However, before you jump to conclusions - this post isn’t going to be a rant about the dark side of adulting – the endless chores, bills and to-do lists. (I’ll save that for a post about the privileges of moving to a “developed” country, i.e. where one is confronted daily with classic cases of choice overload. Choices are abundant e.g. disposing of garbage into the appropriate bin, which of the myriad of highly specific Sunday-quiet day laws to break, what obscure cycling-traffic rules to ignore, and the like.) Adulting came to me in a big bundle, which is why I am so aware of it having arrived. The same time that I turned 30, I started to work at the organisation I had set my sights on years ago. I also moved to my very own little apartment, in a small (b

The Ugly Truth

In the times of Trump, and, closer to home – communal hatred increasing every day in India – what I am about to say is trivial. But I will say it anyway. Because it is my story. And because maybe someone will stumble across is just when they need to, and it will help them for a moment to feel less alone. A few days ago I went out with a friend. It got late, and we were at a bar. While she enjoyed herself, I realised I had had enough and wanted to go home. She refused to leave, so I left her and went home. Then I felt worried and guilty. She was alone in a new city, exhausted and had one too many drinks for me to be able to go to bed with peace of mind. So I did what any decent friend would do (I hope) – I went back for her. I reached the bar and located her flirting with the macho guy who I had already seen kiss 3 girls that evening. I asked her if she wanted to stay with him, and she said again that she just wanted to get rid of him and go home. So I asked her to leave, get

The Jigsaw

Recently some people have asked why I’ve stopped writing my blog. To me, its obvious that this isn’t the case at all. However, I see that I only wrote 2 posts last year – the least ever since I started in 2010. I am not sure why – the easy answer would be the lack of time. Of course, that is hardly ever the truth. Writing for me is and always has been a way to process experiences and feelings. 2018 though, it left me feeling drained. Not necessarily in a bad way. Just a LOT to process. A year where I moved 2 cities and 4 homes, started 2 new jobs – both very different from one another. Moving cities though always exhausting, was a breeze because falling in love with Berlin was so very easy. The work however… Berlin 2018 was just downright mad. A medium sized event is the funniest thing to work on. Its too small for you to REALLY be able to make a huge difference to its success or failure, yet its not large enough to ignore or hide behind anonymity when the crazy shit hits the