It’s been almost 3 years since I moved to London and life is very different than what I imagined it to be. I had dreamt of a high-flying job, frequent holidays, newfound friends, and perhaps even a stable relationship, my own house and the ever-elusive calm.

I lost my job within 10 months of joining, became a student again, never sure if it was the right decision, exhausted most of my savings, and now 2 years later, am at a crossroads where I have no clue where my life is headed.

I don’t have a job, college ended 6 months ago, and my post-study visa is ticking like an annoying alarm clock (without the comforting option to hit snooze). I am being evicted from this wonderful, cozy steal of a place I had found and decorated in West London (thanks to incoming tenancy laws that will make it difficult for landlords to increase rent), and I have been made to eat humble pie in my personal life. The jury is still out on whether I deserved it, though I suspect the jury is me, and I keep adjourning the hearing.

Each time I think things cannot get any worse, the universe takes it as a challenge. Now, after being a regular at the neighbourhood gym for 5 months and building some semblance of structure there, the gym this week, abruptly and permanently shut down. Yesterday, the curtains of my beautiful living room’s ceiling-touching-windows fell like dominoes, and it was the last straw I needed to update my blog.

I have gone into a super-philosophical and rumination mode. I want to fill my life with more social activities, but each of those requires time, money and energy that I seem to have little of these days, what with the relentless job applications, moping and general despair.

Don’t be fooled by my litany of woes. This is not a crying, end-of-the-world post (though looking at geopolitics, it might as well be), but a more hopeful one to remind anyone else going through a rough patch that dismal days, like all days, are impermanent.

I have realised that, despite my insecurities, fears, and the uncertainties of the world, I am an incurable optimist. And while that can be annoying on some days and unbelievable on others (especially to friends whose ears I chew off often), it’s a disposition that keeps me delusional and leaving the house when I have all the reasons not to. I’m also eternally grateful to said ears.

While we may be busy doom-scrolling and catastrophising the inconveniences of our lives, let’s not forget that we have whole villages behind us. My parents visited me for a few days, and my mom left the fridge stocked with my favourite home-cooked meals, well aware of my enthusiasm for the task. It is one of her countless acts of selfless, unquestioning love that reminds me why luck is always on my side.

*My comfort books written by she who went quite astray*

Then there are the tube journeys, constants I look forward to the most. They make me feel independent and agile, and drill the cheerful message that if I see something that doesn’t look right, I name it and trust that resolution is on the way. Only I can no longer outsource the responsibility of the resolution. I may get by with a little help from my friends, but like Harry (in the best instalment of the books), must learn that no one else is coming to save me if I wait achingly out of sight.

Camus, who clearly had his own curtain-falling days, wrote, “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”

As I stood there stunned, with one side literally thwacking the back of my head to jolt me awake from my stupor, realisation dawned – bare windows let in more light.

See it, Say it, Sorted

She wandered lonely as a cloud