Saturday, May 22, 2021

Find Your Inner Peas


Past month has been so stressful that I find myself resembling Neha Kakkar on steroids. One moment I’m pumping up the sunshine and the other my spirits are so low that I can’t decide what’s going down faster – my boobs or my spirits. The cocktail of home confinement, zero socializing and incessant bad news has led to a great deal of emotional turbulence.
Watching me check my phone at two in the morning, the husband said, “You should practice mindful-ness.”

“The mind is full already,” I snapped. “How much can I fill it?”

As ironical as it sounds, taking up meditation sounded better than doing nothing. When I can stare at my balcony plants for hours, I can surely watch my breath for minutes.

So I’m in a solitary room with meditation apps and videos to morph into a serene Simi Grewal from a miserable Nirupa Roy. The background sound of splashing waves plays on the phone. Swish. Swash. Imagine you are in a happy place. Feel the warmth of your breath in your nose as you inhale. Notice the mild rise of your stomach as you inhale.
Focus on the rise and fall of your stomach.
For one, ‘rise and fall of stomach’ has become a very sensitive phrase after all the stress eating. Two, I’ve spent so much time on Instagram that gentle waves obscured by blue skies somehow take me to Maldives and Disha Patani’s bikini pictures. 

Yet, I return to my breath.

Proud of the focus. As I breathe, I’m counting backwards. Ten, nine….
At seven, I’m proud of my unwavering focus. I’m away from WA and Twitter. I haven’t checked the active cases or the TPR in last thirty minutes. For the uninitiated, TPR is test Positivity Rate and not Total Profit made by Radhe.

Feel the warm breath entering your nostrils. Rather odd, but for some reason I sense a burning smell. Must be milk on the burner. I call my husband in the next room and he sounds exasperated, “Forget milk. Forget everything,” he says. “Just focus on your breath.”
If it’s not the milk, what’s this strange smell? I can smell, right? Phew! That’s good enough for now. Back to meditation.
Inhale. Exhale.

I’m tempted to check twenty-three new WAs. What if neighbour’s oxygen saturation dipped below 90? If I’m a neighbour of any decent denomination, I have to help. Thankfully, the neighbour is fine. Inhale. OMG, there are two new cases in my tower. Exhale. Who could that be?
I continue to focus on my body. Feel the gentle sensation.

Why is the second molar hurting? It was fine in the morning. I wonder if the dentist is open because I saw his pictures from somewhere in Nainital. Gosh, how can he enjoy crisp mountain air when I’m calming the activity of parietal lobe of my brain? Nainital reminds me how much I’m missing a road trip. 

This is too stressful. I contemplate watching Season 3 of Downton Abbey? I can mute the television and find some peace in knowing if Mathew Crawley finally got married to Lady Mary. No. Are you nuts? It would be too embarrassing to burst the bubble of those who cheerily sent me to meditate. I don’t remember when I dozed off.

When I emerge from the room an hour later, two pairs of expectant eyes are on me.

“How was it?” asks the husband.
Men are totally to blame for women’s lies. Why do they ask such questions in the first place?
“It was so relaxing,” I brighten up. “I'll do it every day.”
“You must. Look at the glow on your face?”
Of course.


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