If I had to give a title to the year 2021, I would simply call it “the year that never happened”. As I am writing this piece on the last day of the year, I still do not have complete realization of the fact that the 31st year of my life just passed by. Someone please pinch me!
A series of lockdowns and bad weather days across continents would aptly define my 31. When I look back, I am unable to get over the fact I escaped one lockdown to only enter another one. I suffered through the cold winter of North America but then entered the scorching heat of tropical India with only an iota of respite. And yet I couldn’t complain. Afterall, I was all set and prepared to see my family after two and a half years of uncertainty.
As Covid became an unabated addition to the immigration package, it took a toll on my mental health. I was continuously doubting and debating if being so far away from my loved ones was any worthy. At 31, I needed validation. I needed to know if it was the impact of isolation or if I really had to find my way back to my routes.
I managed to fly from the West to the East, taking my work along with me, I visited home in the Spring of 2021. Even before I could get over the jet lag, the delta wave of pandemic hit us in the most unimagined way. I found myself sitting in an even more complex kind of lockdown which left me clueless on the spot. I was so grateful that I was close to my folks in the most difficult phase of the pandemic, but I was so terribly scared of the whole situation. It wasn’t only tragic but also traumatizing. In those two months, waking up safe every morning was a blessing, but it was also sad to wake up to a sorrowful news every morning.
At 31, I along with my family was infected with the deadly variant of the virus and felt despair more than ever. The feeling of helplessness prevailed for a long time; despite being physically present there I could not be there for some of my closest family. It was not as straight forward as calling 911. At 31, I was lost, fighting fears and insecurities of my mind, trying hard to navigate in the ugly reality but with no real contingency plan. I had a strong urge to escape it but there was no escape. At 31, I was falling back on prayers, realizing the insignificance of our tiny human lives, telling myself once again that we are all nothing but stardust in this universe.
As harsh as this lesson came, it was still an important one. So much in my face that I could not ignore it. What was supposed to be a great time with the family started to turn stressful. There were so many negative emotions to deal with, all at once. It was hard to keep them out of my mind space. But still, at 31, I was trying my best to count my blessings. The time I spent with family, despite all the stress, was a relief. The space that I had to move around the house was a luxury. The home cooked food I got to eat every day added so much love to my soul. At 31, the simplest of the simplest things in life, kept uplifting my mood.
And just when the storm settled only a little, the original instincts kicked back. I ventured into the outdoors again and found myself crawling towards the mountains. From Manali to Bir, I satiated my cravings for the Himalayas, which were long pending. Though I am finding it hard to believe myself that I missed the entire season of Himalayan trekking while being in India, I believe, it is legit to blame the mental block that the second wave had managed to create. At 31, I did feel exhausted both mentally and physically. But not so much to do nothing at all. At 31, I was gliding in the skies of Bir Billing and absorbing the gorgeous green view.
At 31, I was learning and unlearning the fundamentals of friendship. While some were getting clearly lost in thin air, some other ones picked up the flames again. And yet some managed to stay the same as they always were. All this human experience summed up graciously for me; life of an immigrant never remains the same as before. In fact, it crosses tides of unsettlement more often than imagined. People come, people go and that becomes an ultimate truth over time. At 31, I was accepting the facts of life, with grace.
At 31, winds of adulthood were also swiping in strong. I felt a greater need to take care of my health. Another fact of life striking hard. Nothing and absolutely nothing is worth the stress to burden our body and mind. But with adulthood, it is becoming evidently difficult to think less and feel more.
And yet many a times at 31, stress won the game. Getting stuck in a no-return ticket situation was making it increasingly difficult for me to enjoy my time in India. I was strongly craving for some certainty. My sleepless nights of working remotely in another time zone was becoming a drag and taking a massive toll on my health. At 31, I was fully aware that long queues outside doctor’s clinic were much more difficult than a workout routine.
Sometimes it is not easy to believe that whatever happens, happens for a reason. All we need is to have patience and have faith. As I impatiently waited to get a ticket to fly back and return to my routine, I found myself enjoying the season of Diwali. At 31, I celebrated the month-long festivities with my friends and family. I could not remember the last time I saw Delhi so lit and bright. It was worth the wait of the ticket. Especially, with our new abode in the heart of South Delhi, it all looked nothing less than splendid.
And just as the festive season came to a close, I was prepared to fly. After unexpectedly spending 7 long months in my home, I was ready to go home. At 31, I had my validations. While Delhi would never stop being home for me, what I started to build from scratch in Toronto would need more of my attention and dedication. At 31, I had reset myself to continue with my hustles.
As I hopped from one side of festivities to the other, I felt full of energy. Despite having missed the spring and summer, I caught a few glimpses of the fall season and spent a lot of time outdoors. I got back into workout mode and joined a group of lovely ladies to sweat it out every evening after work. At 31, I could see I was struggling to work out again and was determined to make it a priority for the coming year.
On the professional front, I felt happy with the steady progress, telling myself not to race too much. I met my team for the first time in one year of working with them and made some really cool friends at work. At 31, I was living the Torontonian dream of experiencing diversity. From Korean hotpots to Guyanese dance parties, from hosting Indian dinners for friends to making new Indian friends, I tried my best to keep it lively.
And just before I could say goodbye to 31, the omicron gripped me making me fully convinced that 31 was the year that never happened.
Vrinda Bhagat 