Category: I Am

A strange feeling

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I knew it was bound to happen. It probably has been happening, who knows? But when one’s partner of nearly 16 years settles into an open relationship and hooks up, and you get to know about it, it’s unsettling.

I knew he cheated on me in 2013. There are so many different reasons and there are so many different questions. But I had not had sex with another man besides him for 13 years. I perhaps languished when the sex stopped. I perhaps assailed myself with the thought that he was sexual, he wasn’t interested in it. Then I realised on my very own that he was getting off on his way to work or perhaps after.

I realised and I confronted and he confessed. The sex, truly, wasn’t the issue. It was me being taken for a fool that was upsetting, to say the least. I had always been taken for granted in many ways, this was just another straw – but it was what broke my resolve that monogamy could be had in our relationship.

I said alright. Let’s go ahead and open the relationship. I wouldn’t be able to leave him. This wasn’t a big enough reason… I’ve had a much bigger reason earlier on – and perhaps, then I didn’t want to confront the idea of me being cheated on then. Perhaps, I was in denial then. I am not anymore. So why am I still with him?

There are a lot of reasons that work for him and against him. But I cannot allow him getting off with some guy be a reason to call off 16 years of being together. He knows me, so yea, shouldn’t have that been incentive enough for me? If he knows me he would know how this would go – but I surprised both of us. I didn’t leave. I just decided it was time for me to do a little bit of soul searching and for me to go on and close this book and pick up the next in the series.

It took me a while to be with another guy. It made me realise that I was desirable still. That I have it in me to be attractive. It made me realise that I was finally succeeding in not caring about what other people thought, after all, and just be. Being monogamous was what I thought would help me see that I could find happiness with someone else. Being in an open relationship made me realise that I didn’t have to find happiness with someone else, I had to find it within me. It’s not a fucking cliche, its the truth.

So today I realised something else, I still hold on to routines. A timeline. Some time when he and I can spend together. But he chose to hook up on our time. Maybe we need to sit and talk this through. Make a plan, have a boundary? Then I think that is falling into the same cycle of creating a construct, a box-in. If one has to be free, and truly open, then one needs to just let go.

If life doesn’t work in this way, it’s time to evolve and let it take me where it goes. So I need to stop that niggling hurt from growing. Let it be. Let him be. And maybe in some time, I will be a bit more free.

Something of a Eulogy

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

“What’s the fuss about? It was just a dog, after all.” Said he.

I owe you no explanations for my grief, sir. I chose to ignore the many assumptions that played into that statement of yours. I walked away. But in my mind, reasons cropped up and I thought to myself that if I had to think and write about the reasons it would take a while, if I would have to explain things to you it would take a longer time. I would like to do the former if not for anything else but to gain some perspective to the discordancy of loss, the mayhem of death and the reason to live.

Zoe came into my life nearly twelve years ago. Imagine a child who comes into a relationship of two lovers at its age of two. The joy that a new life brings which promises a strengthening bond between two lovers who society neglects to believe as worth tolerance, much less acceptance. Just today as I was sitting with my aunts and my father, my father mentioned that a man they knew was ‘like anand and I’ – we couldn’t understand what he said at first and then we realised he was talking about sexuality. He said he couldn’t attribute a term to what Anand and I share. And he wouldn’t even if he could. Let me tell you, sir, who I loved was not an issue for Zoe. For that alone, I think she is something more than just a dog, after all. I could end right here and put an end to this reasoning. But it will make me feel better and so I shall move on.

We say there are some loves that are unconditional. But I believe that no love is without condition. Love in itself, is conditional. By saying that true love should be unconditional is putting in a condition. Conceit though it may be, you, my reader, need to think about this closely. But that is not the point I make. The point is that Zoe loved me for the food I gave her, for the games I played with her and for the love I gave back in return for hers. Those conditions are vastly lesser in magnitude than expecting one to marry for a reason, love for a reason, hope for a reason or live for a reason. She wanted me to love her back, feed her and play with her. All she gave back was love.

She loved me. Of that there is no doubt and not a single shred of uncertainty. From the moment I got her she was connected to me. I raised her from the tender age of 40 days. She grew up bossy, loving her toys, loving me. She was a Pisces, born on 1st March, 2002. She dominated other dogs. Did not much like other men. Got along famously with all my female friends and when she did become friends with some of my male friends, she loved them whenever they would appear. Some of them loved her back with a vengeance, too. There are a few of them who were terribly afraid of all dogs, but once they got to know her, she was the only dog they adjusted to and grew fond of. I would go even so far as to say, love her back.

She would use the loo of our house to poo and pee and she would only go down to play up a storm. Gradually when she realised it was alright to pee on the bushes, she began doing so. She hated cats and would chase them whenever possible. She would boss over other dogs – especially if they were walking with their owners on a leash. She was tawny like a tigress, and had the eyes of a cow. Once when I was standing with her at the entrance to a shop, a gentleman came up and said she was one of the most beautiful boxers he had ever seen. I was a proud father then. I also began tying a black string around her neck, to protect her from any form of ‘nazar’.

Zoe was my constant companion. I am a night bird. When everyone would fall asleep, she was the one awake with me. She waited for me to get to bed and sometimes when it would get too late, she would come and sit before me with an expression that said, ‘alright, dad, enough now, get to bed.’ And I would do so. She would wait for me to get up on the bed and only then jump up with me. As my allergies grew worse, and I got a terrible attack one morning, I remember her getting down from the bed and after that never asking to be put back up on my bed. I couldn’t believe it had actually happened. Later on as I got a bit better, she would climb up. I don’t know how she knew, but she did.

She couldn’t stomach pain. When she had her first menstrual cycle, she hung all limp and was in agony. We thought something had gone wrong with her, but we found that she was going through her first chums. She was spayed at four and that was the only time she went under the knife. When she turned 9 she was diagnosed with bladder stones. And I didn’t want her to have surgery because she didn’t take well to pain and I didn’t want her to go through anaesthesia at that stage of her life. We controlled the stones through diet and medication and she went back to being her playful self.

When we shifted, from our old home into a new one, when the old one went in for redevelopment, she took her time to adjust. By then, she was 10 years old. When we would walk to the old home she would recognise the road, she would recognise the compound and she would stand and gaze back at our old home which was soon to be demolished. That was heart breaking to watch because she knew that that was the place she had her best memories. She remembered and she loved.

By October 2013, she was diagnosed with degenerative myelopathy. It progressed fast and the condition of the bladder was exacerbated with the harnesses used. I won’t go into the details of the suffering, because there is no use to that – she passed away at 3:25pm, on 28th October, 2013, amidst her family.

When she died, a part of me died with her. She was my friend. She was my companion in the day and at night. She was my daughter. She was the one who did nothing but wait for me until I returned back to her from wherever I had gone. She was the one who followed me at home, until her legs did not allow her to. She loved me as much as she could, as best as she was able, as long as she lived. If there is something amidst all the pain that I feel now I can very happily say is that I love her as much as I can, as best as I can and as long as I will live.

The fuss is about the love that died with her, and the love that lives on with me. The fuss is about the friend I lost. The fuss is that there won’t be another Zoe. The fuss is that she, sir, was more human than you could ever be.

And if I could borrow a quote from a heightened mind, I fuss because death ends a life, but not a relationship.

Owl

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

I’m just a night person.

I have been ever since I could remember. In school and college, I usually would study at night.

I prefer the night. It’s calm and people don’t intrude. Naturally, since most people are fast asleep. Except those who are like me. And that’s always great.

Staying awake by default makes one meet people like one’s self. On social media, on chat, and it’s so nice to focus and not be mentally distracted while communicating with like-minded people. Most friends who are night people like me drop by and we sit the night through.

I used to teach as a living and classes happen for me in the afternoon, into the late evenings. I’m no longer a teacher but a full time, freelance literary editor and social media director. So now that I’ve stopped teaching, I do my editing and social media work during that time. Which I used to do anyway at night when I used to work as an editor part-time.

So I sleep through mornings which I have always disliked. I don’t know what it is about the sun that drains me. I have a favourite quote that goes something like this, “I am moonlight, not sunlight. I soothe, I do not burn.” It resonates with my favour. Smiling now.

Wikipedia calls people like me Night Owls. Another name for us is B-People. The study delves deep into circadian rhythms and delayed sleep-phase disorders.

But interestingly, they also say, “Some research has found that night owls are more intelligent and creative and more likely to get high-paying jobs than larks. A study among 1000 adolescents by the University of Madrid found that owls are better than early birds in intuitive intelligence, creative thinking and inductive reasoning. However, they lag behind larks in academic performance and they tend to have unhealthier eating habits.”

Which I am afraid is true. During the night time, I get the chance to read. I write. I blog. I catch up on favourite shows or watch and re-watch movies and series. I used to work on papers or lectures if there are any. I sketch as a hobby. Or work on photographs that I’ve clicked. Or some graphics and video editing.

But whatever I do, during the night, is undisturbed and focused. :)