When was the last time I went out without having to visit the washroom - at least twice? I don't remember. Initially, it was a chance event. Today, it is the norm. I have adjusted my routine around this habit so that I am usually ready twenty minutes before the scheduled departure, utilizing rest of the time to address 'exigencies' - which I am so sure they will arise that they are no longer exigencies!
One of the first things I do upon entering a building - be it the lecture halls/research blocks back in college, my coaching centre now, Metro stations where I board and alight - is to carry out a thorough survey of the restrooms: location, hygiene, usability, so that I have data ready to be able to take decisions in dire situations after a thorough cost-benefit analysis. This has become second nature to me: whenever I go to any mall/restaurant, while others scan the shops/menu/people, I scan the layout for restrooms. And this alertness has served me well.
A few months ago, when I had to visit the doctor on some other grounds, my father courageously broached the topic of my 'motions' with the doctor. This was a great leap forward because for us Indians, specially the middle-class, motion and 'some other' issues are either embarrassing or taboo to be discussed in public! The doctor wished it away saying it is just a lifestyle disorder and came up with generic suggestions like exercise and proper dietary habits.
However, I have meditated upon this issue and have come up with my own half-baked diagnosis. This issue - despite there being tangible evidence - is more psychological than physical. I have observed that the exigency arises mostly when I have to meet someone, attend meetings or go out to eat - all social occasions, involving inter-personal contact with a wide range of people and opinions. Here, I propose a theory: this increased sensitivity is due to anxiety - of meeting actual people than conversations over social media/phone, of exposing ourselves to others' judgment. This anxiety itself is a result of us becoming more entangled in virtual spaces, more isolated in echo chambers of like-minded people and reinforced opinions. In me, this anxiety manifests through the stomach. In others, it may take different forms. (Such theorizing is also a great leap forward!)
You, Reader, might ask why I am writing about my tummy tantrums here and forcing you to read it. As the title reads, it is a 'whim'. You are free to close the tab anytime! Why am I writing about my imperfections anyway? Primarily because I am neither famous nor important enough for others to write about me. Besides, it would be too narcissistic if I went on writing about my talents, skills and everything else that is nice. I am modest! So all I am left to write about are my imperfections.
Among other things, I don't know how to ride a cycle and except for a few fleeting moments so long ago that it could have been in the previous life, I have not attempted to either. Neither do I know how to swim, despite having joined classes when I was in Class 3 or 4. My exit from those classes was so dramatic that it is part of family folklore even today! But then, that is a story for another day, another post. Today, let me tell you a story which will make you believe in God.
Dogs have a special affinity towards me. I have been chased multiple times, despite trying to maintain a respectable distance from them. People tell me that dogs sense fear and hence, attack. However, I find that to be victim blaming.
Everytime I go to my uncle's house, I make sure I call them to announce my arrival - so that they can shoo away the dog that usually sleeps inside their gate. That day, I stood waiting across the road for my aunt to clear the way for my passage. For whatever reason, the dog decided to chase me. I ran around screaming incomprehensibly before making my way inside. My uncle coolly remarked that I have a good voice!
The next time, I decided to up my game plan. I strategized that I would go further down the road before making the call. Usually, the dog went right, after exiting the gate. I would be waiting a few feet away - on the left. After it was a considerable distance away, I would run up to the gate and go in. The strategy was foolproof, I believed. However, I decided to add another layer of protection. While walking along the road to their house, I began praying to Gods that I don't usually believe in, (or so I profess). I took my position and called up. Lo! The dog was nowhere in the picture. It was only after I was comfortably inside the house that the dog entered the gate. The atheist in me wants to believe it was a mere coincidence. Perhaps. There is no way of verifying it, though. The next time, I might try the same strategy - to see if it works. But then, I would no longer be a believer, would I? How does one realize God without belief? Isn't God nothing but belief?
Again, you might ask why I am writing this while discussing about imperfections. What else is being a convenient atheist? Believing in the existence of God or rejecting it - both require tremendous courage, which I do not possess presently. Until I able to muster that conviction, I must accept this, just like my other quirks. After all, these are as much part of the self as every other positive attribute we take pride in. Our personality is a sum total of all these elements. We yearn for perfection. We must. However, perfection is not an event, is it? It is a process. And the most important part of this journey is appreciating and embracing our imperfections.
One of the first things I do upon entering a building - be it the lecture halls/research blocks back in college, my coaching centre now, Metro stations where I board and alight - is to carry out a thorough survey of the restrooms: location, hygiene, usability, so that I have data ready to be able to take decisions in dire situations after a thorough cost-benefit analysis. This has become second nature to me: whenever I go to any mall/restaurant, while others scan the shops/menu/people, I scan the layout for restrooms. And this alertness has served me well.
A few months ago, when I had to visit the doctor on some other grounds, my father courageously broached the topic of my 'motions' with the doctor. This was a great leap forward because for us Indians, specially the middle-class, motion and 'some other' issues are either embarrassing or taboo to be discussed in public! The doctor wished it away saying it is just a lifestyle disorder and came up with generic suggestions like exercise and proper dietary habits.
However, I have meditated upon this issue and have come up with my own half-baked diagnosis. This issue - despite there being tangible evidence - is more psychological than physical. I have observed that the exigency arises mostly when I have to meet someone, attend meetings or go out to eat - all social occasions, involving inter-personal contact with a wide range of people and opinions. Here, I propose a theory: this increased sensitivity is due to anxiety - of meeting actual people than conversations over social media/phone, of exposing ourselves to others' judgment. This anxiety itself is a result of us becoming more entangled in virtual spaces, more isolated in echo chambers of like-minded people and reinforced opinions. In me, this anxiety manifests through the stomach. In others, it may take different forms. (Such theorizing is also a great leap forward!)
You, Reader, might ask why I am writing about my tummy tantrums here and forcing you to read it. As the title reads, it is a 'whim'. You are free to close the tab anytime! Why am I writing about my imperfections anyway? Primarily because I am neither famous nor important enough for others to write about me. Besides, it would be too narcissistic if I went on writing about my talents, skills and everything else that is nice. I am modest! So all I am left to write about are my imperfections.
Among other things, I don't know how to ride a cycle and except for a few fleeting moments so long ago that it could have been in the previous life, I have not attempted to either. Neither do I know how to swim, despite having joined classes when I was in Class 3 or 4. My exit from those classes was so dramatic that it is part of family folklore even today! But then, that is a story for another day, another post. Today, let me tell you a story which will make you believe in God.
Dogs have a special affinity towards me. I have been chased multiple times, despite trying to maintain a respectable distance from them. People tell me that dogs sense fear and hence, attack. However, I find that to be victim blaming.
Everytime I go to my uncle's house, I make sure I call them to announce my arrival - so that they can shoo away the dog that usually sleeps inside their gate. That day, I stood waiting across the road for my aunt to clear the way for my passage. For whatever reason, the dog decided to chase me. I ran around screaming incomprehensibly before making my way inside. My uncle coolly remarked that I have a good voice!
The next time, I decided to up my game plan. I strategized that I would go further down the road before making the call. Usually, the dog went right, after exiting the gate. I would be waiting a few feet away - on the left. After it was a considerable distance away, I would run up to the gate and go in. The strategy was foolproof, I believed. However, I decided to add another layer of protection. While walking along the road to their house, I began praying to Gods that I don't usually believe in, (or so I profess). I took my position and called up. Lo! The dog was nowhere in the picture. It was only after I was comfortably inside the house that the dog entered the gate. The atheist in me wants to believe it was a mere coincidence. Perhaps. There is no way of verifying it, though. The next time, I might try the same strategy - to see if it works. But then, I would no longer be a believer, would I? How does one realize God without belief? Isn't God nothing but belief?
Again, you might ask why I am writing this while discussing about imperfections. What else is being a convenient atheist? Believing in the existence of God or rejecting it - both require tremendous courage, which I do not possess presently. Until I able to muster that conviction, I must accept this, just like my other quirks. After all, these are as much part of the self as every other positive attribute we take pride in. Our personality is a sum total of all these elements. We yearn for perfection. We must. However, perfection is not an event, is it? It is a process. And the most important part of this journey is appreciating and embracing our imperfections.
