They Say

Most people start their mornings with a cup of coffee. Although I am more of a ‘tea now, tea later, tea forever’ kind of person, today I am going to need to conform to the accepted rules due to the unnecessary number of drinks I was peer-pressured into downing last night. My friend was convinced it was needed, for some reason. The place he chose was a teeming club, packed with every other person in the city; or at least it felt like it.

All I said was “I’m bored.” He immediately poured me drink along with a “Get a boyfriend.”

“I said I’m bored, not lonely,” I rolled my eyes. Wait, am I?

Now thinking about this short conversation soberly, the doubt popped into my head.

They say, ‘Be happy with yourself; love yourself.’ I am, I do.

They say, ‘Decide that you’re enough, wait and watch what happens.’ I can’t say I’m waiting, but I’m definitely watching. Nothing is happening.

They say, ‘Loneliness is not lack of company but lack of purpose.’ Company is absolutely not an issue. I live with friends and their friends in a happening city. My brother is my diary and my parents are some of  my best friends. I know more than just the names of my 1^st and 2^nd cousins, aunts and uncles; even now, I have a flight to catch to my cousin’s engagement party. I wasn’t even born alone; my twin brother followed me out. This morning, slurping my coffee in my kitchen, I’m physically alone after a long time. Finishing my liquid breakfast, I go wash my mug since my friend, who happens to be my apartment mate, hates dishes in the sink.

So, I lack purpose? I smirk to myself while I do my last-minute packing. I have more hobbies than fingers to count them on and a thriving career with limitless opportunities. So why am I bored?

To be honest, it’s my mother’s fault. She disciplined me such that I wake up early, though I sleep late; I have too many hours in a day. Just as the thought of her crosses my mind, her name flashes on my phone.

“Did you get to the airport?”

“Umm, on my way,” I reply as I get into the cab, not a lie. Thankfully, I do not live too far from the airport, traffic may be an issue today though.

I love travelling, Not for the gram but to observe people from all walks of life. Today, I take particular notice of their company. People usually tend to travel with family, friends or their significant others. However, the most interesting ones are those who have their heads buried in their laptops, or better books. There is something enigmatic yet obvious about readers. Are they lonely too? It’s ok because, as A.S Byatt wrote in “Possessions:” ‘Think of this- that the writer wrote alone and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other.’ There’s something oddly comforting about that thought.

My grandmother was a reader, especially after my grandfather passed away. I remember giving her Mark Twain’s “Adventures of Tom Sawyer.” She had obviously already read it but accepted my gift with a glowing smile and presented me with erudition of her own: "Twain is brilliant, isn’t he? You know they say he was a lonely man. ‘The worst type of loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself,’” she cited the legend. “Always be comfortable in your own skin and mind, darling,” in a voice made of comfort and wisdom; I miss her.

The only thing I’m not comfortable with right now, though, is this flight seat; my only company for the next 6 hours.

Since it isn’t polite to stare at random people for too long, I take out my phone and turn on my music. Who was it that said, ‘Music was invented to confirm human loneliness?’ Why would someone take the fun out of something as wonderful as music with sayings of these? Good thing we have lyrics to put the fun right back.

Like Henry Rollins sang, a great while back, ‘Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes nights smell better.’

Was he being sarcastic? Was there an alternative meaning? Just like they say, ‘beauty is in the eyes of the beholder,’ I guess the meaning of words are in the mind of the interpreter.

Distracted by my entertaining thoughts, I did not realize we reached our destination. The smooth landing felt like a calm before the storm or maybe it is just in my head. I haven’t been home in almost 3? 4? 6! months. While that maybe normal for some, it definitely is not for me.

The long ride from the airport is always dreadful; primarily because I’m so close yet so far from home but also because it is just me and my taxi driver, surrounded my honking vehicles and frustrated travelers. Very rarely are they enjoyable, mostly they are annoying or worse, dead quiet. Everyone knows what they say about the silent ones: ‘Never judge a quiet person. No one plans a murder out loud.’

This one was the quiet type, thus I turned to the most illustrious entertainer of the century: Instagram. Sure enough, the first the first post I see reads ‘Loneliness is addicting. Once you see how peaceful it is, you won’t want to deal with people.’  Creepy isn’t it?

It is said that one discovers a new side to themselves when confronted with a situation. The last time I had to deal with someone, I myself was definitely a different person. Maybe the next time I am faced with a confronting scenario,  I will  find out if I’m addicted to solitude.

I sigh a sigh so deep; I am sure my taxi driver thinks my life is crumbling. That is another worry isn’t it? What if I’m falling apart and nobody knows?

Before I can go down that sorry thought process, I reach my home.

You would think I would be greeted with a hug and some food. Instead I get a “We’re already late! Get ready! I put your clothes and jewelry out on your bed,” from my hustling mother. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey dude!” I shoulder my brother, taking a bite of his rice. While his eyes look at me and his mouth voices a “hey!” I know his mind is nowhere near his body. Wasn’t it the American Pianist, Oscar Levant, who said “Schizophrenia is better than dining alone?” I would love to give him a piece of my mind, fortunately for him, I can’t.

My dad brings me his famous chai and biscuits along with a few of his infamous dad jokes; he’s my first and only true love.

I hurry to my room to get dressed. As I get into the back seat of my dad’s CRV, I turn into a little girl again, excited to dance and play at my family’s function.

We make a grand entrance; fashionably late, as they say. I embrace my cousin and tease her fiancé; that is what I’m here for after all. My heart fills up seeing her all smiles; she deserves it.

Who would have thought she would end up with a Russian, named Putin, after ridiculing their communist rule for most of her life? What they say must be true: ‘Love has nothing to do with the brain.’ But my mind goes to what the Russian novelist Vladimir Nabokov of “Lolita” fame once said: ‘Loneliness as a situation can be corrected, but as a state of mind is an incurable disease.’

My cousin’s was a situation; it has finally been corrected, what about mine? As I’m worrying about whether or not I have an incurable disease, my Aunt comes up to me and makes a mess of my state of mind.

“Hey kid! It has been so long. I hear you are doing well at work. So, when are you going to follow your cousin’s footsteps?” she didn’t waste any time, did she?

I smile, “I think one Russian is enough in the family, don’t you?” she laughs at my horrible joke.

“Listen everyone’s worried about you. You don’t even have a boyfriend anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I am so glad you dumped that fool, but it has been awhile.”

Who is everyone? My parents clearly aren’t all that worried. My dad says, “you are your only best friend.” My astrology loving mom says, “whatever is written in your fate will happen. All you can do is try your best.” They still set me up with people but thankfully they don’t force it.

I really wanted to roll my eyes at my aunt, but since I am a respectful girl, I control my expression.

Still speaking, she says, “The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being alone.” She wants me to get married and is quoting Mother Teresa… how ironic.

I counter with a “All great and precious things are lonely right?” My English Literature graduate of an Aunt stares at me, shocked that I read and can quote John Steinbeck. “And anyway,” I continue, “single doesn’t mean lonely and relationship doesn’t always mean happy.”

Her face drops. She knows exactly who I am referring to. She sighs adding, “I guess that is very true.”

Seeing her expression saddened me. I did not mean to hurt her; her intentions were good. I try to make up for my cutting words:

 “I know you’re right, Aunty. But companionship is not something you find if you look. I don’t want to settle for someone just because I have to. It is the rest of my life we are talking about. I believe that it will happen one day; I believe in that magic. I promise I am not opposed to it. I mean, like Drake’s mother says ‘Who wants to be 70 and alone’ right? I just do not want to make a mistake, Aunty.”

Until I said those words, I didn't know they existed in me.

Her eyes brighten up. “You don’t have to settle. Look at that boy. He’s your cousin’s friend’s brother. He’s cute, very well educated, great family….”

I face palm hard enough for my nose ring to hit my septum. Family will always be family; fortunately we can’t help but love them. So, I smile and get up to go talk to that boy, for my aunt’s satisfaction, but also because I am bored.