Hello!
Welcome to Divya Writes, an occasional newsletter on relationships, parenting, motherhood, marriage, food, and books.
i.
I was planning to publish an essay on my blog this week. But I am hesitating, holding it back until I feel it is okay to let go. It is a personal essay and the problem with personal essays is that they are personal. Our stories are not ours alone. Our stories are intertwined with the stories of our loved ones. And it is impossible to narrate our story without someone else’s story creeping in. Then I wonder, is it ours to tell? While I think this through, that essay will continue to remain in my drafts.
ii.
I miss my former self, my pre-pregnancy self from over two years ago who now seems like an old friend - an old friend who was once close, but now it feels like we’ve lost touch. As I look through old pictures on my phone, I feel strange. It feels like I am looking at pictures of a stranger. I try to search for my former self, I try to find some hint that she is still here, in me. That she and I are still the same.
The birth of a baby is also the birth of a mother. As the baby leaves the womb, so does a part of the woman. Around when my son emerged and was placed on my chest, and I held him close, crying, and laughing, my former self left the room and I forgot to say goodbye.
iii.
My husband asked me a few weeks ago what I wanted for my birthday. The first thing I asked for was to go on a road trip. When he prodded for more, I said that I wanted to climb a hill and sit there for a while. I also added that I wanted to go to a coffee shop and sit there with my notebook and pen. When I thought about it later I realized that all that I asked for were experiences. Not objects and devices, clothes and bags, and other little things, but experiences. That is what this pandemic has made me miss the most. While it is not impossible to do these things - a road trip or hiking, or getting a coffee, I miss doing it with abandon. Carelessly touching tables and chairs at public spaces, touching my ear and my nose as I think, chewing on my thumb while I wait for my coffee. To worry about things that are not related to a novel virus. Maybe someday things will go back to normal. Until then I will miss all these little things I always took for granted.
iv.
I want to end this edition of my newsletter with a Spotify playlist: It’s called Indie India and I’ve been listening to it while working. It’s got Prateek Kuhad on it, obviously. But a lot of other great music too.
That’s all for now. I will write again soon.
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