Poornima Manco

Author

Blog

Why not me?

by

Into each life, some rain must fall. So said Longfellow in his poem, ‘The Rainy Day’. Adversity does not discriminate, it does not pick and choose its recipients. So, when tough days come your way, as they inevitably will, is there any point in asking “why me”?

It is so easy to get lulled into a false sense of security when everything is going well. But life, well, life is never ever straight forward. Sometimes it doesn’t chuck just a bit of trouble your way, it chucks a bucket load and then some.

2019 was annus horribilis for us. It started out fine and then as the year progressed, my younger daughter’s health spiralled down once again. From pain in the back that was initially dismissed as a Vitamin D deficiency, then attributed to a muscle strain, I saw my active, mostly healthy and happy child become bed-ridden and dependant on crutches, while we ran from pillar to post for a proper diagnosis. This was not her first brush with ill health. She had suffered previously from other issues, nothing life-threatening thankfully, but enough to have affected her self esteem and joie de vivre.

The end of the year saw us turn a corner very cautiously, with hope in our hearts and a little prayer on our lips. Improvement was slow and steady with a few minor setbacks thrown in, but enough for us to see a little light at the end of this long, dark tunnel that we’d been trapped in for quite some time.

Then something else happened. It was a minor allergic reaction to something, but it brought all her previous fears rushing back. For nearly five years, it had been one thing or another, and my poor child was fed up, frustrated and at the end of her tether. She broke down in my arms, sobbing, asking – “Why me?”

I pacified her as best as I could, then calmly, almost clinically, asked her, “Why not you?”

It’s so easy for each of us to feel that we are hard done by, that no one else has the troubles that we do, that our suffering is monumental, that everyone else is living the dream while our lives are a nightmare. But look around, really look around. No one’s life is perfect. That social media perfection is the gloss that hides the daily grind and grime from each other.

Years ago, my mother had taught me a valuable lesson. She’d said, if you have to compare yourself to anyone, then do it with someone far worse off than you, because at that moment you will realise how blessed you really are.

I said the same to my daughter. I spoke about X, a young boy we knew well, who is now a young man, debilitated for the last 11 years, laid low by an unknown virus, unable to walk without aid, eat unassisted and completely unable to vocalise his thoughts or his emotions to his devastated parents. That, I said to her, is a tragedy. Yet, they keep putting one foot in front of the other and carrying on loving and taking care of their precious son.

I didn’t say this to diminish or ignore her suffering in any way, but to demonstrate that the Universe hands out its cards randomly and that what we are dealt with is our lot. We can choose to accept the challenge or be buried under the weight of it.

When life throws you that curveball, instead of asking “why me” which immediately casts you in the role of a victim, ask “why not me?” because that shows that you understand that you are not exempt from life’s woes, but more than up to the challenge of facing them head-on. You are NOT a victim. What you ARE is a survivor.

I’ll close with Longfellow’s poem as a little reminder to us all that rainy days will come, but if we are patient and resilient, the sunshine will follow soon enough.

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

– H.W. Longfellow

The multiple sides of Megxit

by

Living in the United Kingdom, it has been nigh on impossible to escape the news that Harry and Meghan, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex have decided that they want to be part-time royals. What an outcry there has been! Is this a second abdication of duty, prompted by another American divorcee? Are they trying to have their cake and eat it too? And what of all of Harry’s attacks on the media? Is Meghan so thin-skinned that she didn’t realise that scrutiny was par for the course in her position?

I am no royalist, but I am fascinated by the media circus around them. Back in the ’90s when I first moved to the UK, I couldn’t turn sideways without being confronted by another headline or photograph of Princess Diana. To me, at the time, it seemed outrageous that the woman was given no modicum of privacy, that her every move was watched, papped and analysed in the minutest detail. We all know how that ended.

The appetites of the masses are fed by the salacious gossip peddled as news by the tabloids. It’s like the royal family, with all their prestige and titles, have to behave like puppets who perform to earn their keep. Whatever feelings or opinions they may have on the matter are never ever to be aired. Given time, if they’ve played the role well enough, they may well become inviolate in the eyes of the media and the masses. But that could take years, and they had better not step out of line in the meantime.

Meghan was always different. Strong, opinionated, mixed-race and divorced, this ‘breath of fresh air’ was cut very little slack right from the start. Like all other royal wives, she incurred the slurs and the brickbats that came her way. Reports of her having driven a wedge between the brothers, having made Kate cry, been a demanding diva before her wedding and regularly upset her staff making some key people quit, appeared all over the tabloids. Was any of it true? No smoke without fire, people said. Could these reports have been hugely exaggerated? No rebuttals came from any parties. And so the myth evolved.

Now, none of us is privy to what’s gone on behind closed doors. Maybe Meghan was difficult and demanding, maybe the brothers did fall out and maybe things could have been handled differently by all the parties involved. But here’s the thing: which family doesn’t have its share of problems? Arguments, disagreements, not seeing eye to eye on issues has happened to all of us, all over the world, just not in such a public way.

In a saga to rival a soap, Harry and Meghan decided to decamp to Canada. Yet, they were willing to still perform whatever royal duties were required of them. Over a meeting with her son and grandsons, the queen agreed to his request, but in turn, imposed her own conditions, the details still being hammered out. However, her tone was conciliatory, and her handling of the situation incredibly astute and diplomatic, just as any wise matriarch’s would be.

What I find astounding in all of this is just how vilified Meghan has been by the tabloid press and by the masses. How is it possible for people not to see that for an educated, independent woman, royal life could prove stifling and claustrophobic? That even the most self-possessed person could eventually let the enormous barrage of criticism get to her? That Harry was only wanting to do the best by his family?

Let’s face facts for a minute. Harry is sixth in line to the throne and knew that in time his relevance would only decrease. What’s wrong with him wanting to carve out a separate identity from that of The Crown, from wanting to establish his own credentials, and display his own personality? As for whether the tabloid attacks on Meghan were racist or not, ask a person of colour that question, not some old, white guy who looks at the headlines from his narrow perspective of white privilege and says, no, not at all!

In no way am I trying to defend or justify any single person in this entire episode, but let’s just try and bring some level-headed clarity to the situation without putting on the blinkers of our judgemental selves.

Why has Harry and Meghan’s stepping down as senior royals been more significant than Prince Andrew’s shady involvement with convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein? What about that awful, dissembling interview of his? Where are the constant headlines about that? Where is the never-ending hue and cry? Where is the persistent vilification, the denouncement, the anger? Where?

Ultimately, what happens to Harry and Meghan has little bearing on what happens to us in our daily lives, yet we watch slack-jawed, hungry for details as another family combats its internal travails, a family that we want to be ‘perfectly royal’, to have no problems because why would they, with all that money and privilege? Yet, when they do, we want all the dirty linen washed in front of us, because how else will we get our kicks? How else will we feel better about ourselves, by knowing that no one is immune to pain, regardless of status or stature?

Maybe it is time to look away, time to let them sort things out and time to let the dust settle. It’s the least we owe Diana’s son.

 

New year, New you & all that jazz

by

Every year without fail I make my New Year resolutions. Lose weight, sleep more, write more, practice patience, be kinder, be nicer etc. Some of these I manage to implement, while others fall by the wayside. Isn’t that what it’s like for most of us?

The start of a year seems to be a good time to set oneself goals. Things that need accomplishing and things that never seem to get accomplished. But there is a desire and a willingness to set oneself these aims for the future. Somehow, a new year is like a blank slate just waiting to be written upon.

2020 has a nice ring to it. It is not just the start of a new year, it’s also the beginning of a new decade. A decade which I hope is less turbulent and traumatic than the last one was, for me personally. A decade which will see the fruition of certain ambitions, the cementing of certain relationships and the sloughing off of others. And maybe, just maybe, 2020 will be the start of that.

Yet, what are New Year resolutions without a list? I am the queen of lists. I make daily ones, monthly ones and annual ones too. I derive so much satisfaction from ticking things off my list(s). There is a sense of execution, attainment and fulfilment each time something gets crossed off. So, this year, in addition to the usual suspects, I have added another challenge for myself.

This is my year of the no-spend.

Why? Well, I have been reading and hearing so much about sustainable living, and there is something about this idea that appeals to me. Mass consumption has wrecked our beautiful planet. From greenhouse gases to plastic waste, from deforestation to ridiculous amounts of energy consumption, the human race has done everything in its capacity to destroy the only real home it has. What kind of a planet are we going to leave our children? What kind of a future will they have? What can we do right now to help?

Well, we can begin by living sustainably. By consuming only what we require and no more, by practising minimalism and reducing our carbon footprint as much as we can.

To that end, I am starting with this no-spend year. The plan is that I will not buy any new clothes this year. The garment industry, particularly ‘fast fashion’ that sees garments produced, consumed and discarded at alarming rates, is a large contributor to global pollution and waste. My not buying any new clothes may only be a drop in the ocean, but it’s a start. To that list, I am also adding cosmetics and costume jewellery.

Now, on a personal front, I am very fortunate to have enough to keep me going, not just this year but perhaps for the next few years too. But, let’s face it. We, particularly women, don’t just shop to replace. We shop for fun, for fashion, for variety and sometimes, to relieve boredom. I know I do. So, I intend to avoid all such triggers and replace them with things like reading, meeting up with friends, writing my next book… you get the idea.

There is a caveat to my no-spend year. I will still buy gifts for friends and I will still go out for meals (preferably not blow-out ones) and have my ‘experiences’. Otherwise, I’m likely to become a very unhappy character indeed.

Baby steps.

At the end of this year, I will report back on how it went. Whether I managed to do it, whether there were any blips along the way, how I felt, whether I’d like to continue and alongside answer any questions you may have as well.

Wish me luck!

And oh, by the way, dry January is going well too. 😉🙏🏽

 

 

Hurry up, slow down

by

Where has 2019 gone? I mean, seriously! I know we tend to say this every year when we look back, but this year in particular, has just sped past. Scarily so! Is this a side-effect of ageing? Remember when we were children and time seemed to pass soooo slowwwwly?

So why the ‘hurry up’ in the title of this blog post? Well, it’s quite a personal thing. You see, I am now more than ever, acutely aware that my time on this planet is limited. Gone are the days of youthful insouciance, knowing in one’s bones that there are decades to follow, many many years to accomplish, live, love, party and work. Now, it’s a slow winding down to a more sedate living; less partying, possible retirement and fewer accomplishments. Not yet, I know, but not that far off in the future either.

Hence, there is a need within me to try and hurry up in accomplishing all the goals I have set myself. Writing more books, travelling to far-flung places, reading all the classics I missed the first time around, watching highly-regarded Television shows, discovering little-known gems of movies, doing more and being more. All these desires and the realisation of the paucity of time.

One could argue that no-one knows exactly how long we have to live, so really, the mantra should be to live every day as if it were your last. In reality, though, that is an exhausting thought. Who wants to spend each day chasing goals? I don’t know about you, but I have good days and bad days. Days that I want to do sod-all and days that I am at my productive best. It is in fits and starts and bursts of energy and inspiration that I move forward.

My slow down is an appeal not just to time (when has that ever happened?) but also to myself. In hurtling towards doing more and being more, it’s easy to miss the beauty of just being. There is so much joy and satisfaction to be found in sitting around a dinner table with your family, discussing the mundane details of life. Such pleasure to be had over a cup of coffee with a friend, catching up or reminiscing. So much contentment in sipping a glass of wine in front of the fireplace, sitting quietly with your partner, letting the hypnotic dance of the flames lull you into a serene state of equanimity.

Perhaps it is finding a balance between the hurrying up and slowing down that allows one to live one’s best life. So, here’s to 2020. May it be the best of both.

🍾🥂🎊

Turn back time

by

 

Oddly, synergistically even, I have started to watch two TV shows about time travel. One is the series based on the books by Diana Gabaldon, called ‘Outlander’, and the other is a new French series that Netflix suggested I might enjoy, called ‘Il etait une seconde fois’ (Twice upon a time). I’m only two episodes in on the first and partially through the first episode on the second. Although hugely different in cast, location and treatment, the premise is one of returning to the past, through some strange, magical happenstance.

As humans, we are continually fascinated with the idea of time travel, and explore this in many mediums, whether that is in books like ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’, movies like ‘Back to the Future’ or television series like ‘Doctor Who’. The ability to challenge space and time is like an itch that needs scratching to be soothed. But why are we so taken with the idea of returning to the past? After all, unlike the future, where events are yet to unfold and therefore, there is a natural curiosity to find out more, we are already familiar with what has occurred historically, and indeed, intimately familiar with our own, personal histories.

Could it be, that in our desire to return to particular places and times in our past, we seek to amend or rectify our mistakes? Could it be, that having suffered bereavement or loss, we seek to spend time in the company of loved ones, knowing in hindsight that it will not last forever? Could it also be, that we seek to reimagine ourselves in our yet-to-be-determined futures once again?

Regardless of what we imagine or seek, turning back the clock is an impossibility. As they say, time and tide wait for no man. However, there are no boundaries to our imagination. So we continue to explore, examine and extrapolate the endless possibilities of breaking through such barriers.

Let us consider though, if ever, in the distant future, time travel did become possible, what life would be like. We could be stuck in loops of indecision, wanting to continuously examine the various permutations of a given choice and perhaps, returning over and over again to change seemingly minor moments that led to momentous shifts. How exhausting that would be! Would we be pushing the rewind button on our lives all the time? Would we ever be able to live with the choices and decisions we made at any given point? Would we grow, evolve, change or learn? What a great TV show that would make!

Hindsight is 20/20 and there may be several occasions in the past that we would love to be able to return to and steer our lives differently, but learning to live with the consequences of what we decided in that given moment, with the information and wisdom we possessed back then, is what maturity and growth are all about.

The fact is that life does progress linearly, from birth to death. Yes, it’s wonderful to imagine alternatives, but really, what is even more wonderful is to take nothing we have or do for granted. The inability to change the past, and the futility of trying to predict the future, is what makes life the thrilling ride that it is.

But when reality gets tedious and boring, there is always vicarious time travel to be indulged in. Go on, enjoy yourself! It’s Christmas, after all.

Half of a lifetime

by

Today is a pretty significant day in my life. I haven’t tom-tommed about it everywhere, in fact not even my nearest and dearest know, but I have been thinking about it all day long. Today marks exactly half my life of being in Britain. This was the first day, all those years ago, that I entered the United Kingdom with a work visa in my hand, stars in my eyes and trepidation in my heart.

It was meant to be temporary, no more than three years and then I would’ve transferred to Hong Kong. Three years seemed like a very long time, but here I am, more than two decades later and it seems to have gone in the blink of an eye.

I am a naturalised British citizen now and very proud of the fact too. However, somewhere within me, an umbilical cord still binds me to my birthplace. I miss the seasons, the colours, the clothes, the food and most of all, my family and friends who still remain in India. However, Britain has given me so much as well. I have my own family here, I have many friends, my job, my hobbies, the freedom to be who I want to be, to reinvent myself, to be fearless and experimental, all of these are boons granted to me by this land.

I cannot lie though and say that everything has been smooth sailing. Adopting a new country as your own and adapting to its culture and norms can be quite terrifying. Even being fluent in English wasn’t enough at times, because my accent wasn’t right. The Indians here weren’t like the Indians in India, and I had to learn a new subset of behaviours and beliefs. Similarly, with the Britons, I had to understand that it could take years before acceptance and true assimilation could occur.

In all of this, I have learned to grow, to evolve, to change that which needed changing and hold on to that which I refused to change. My value system is Indian and will continue to be so, but my outlook has broadened enough to see the fault lines in what I left behind.

What would I consider myself today? An Anglicised Indian? I think not. The world is shrinking at a breathtaking pace. Not in terms of geography, but certainly in terms of connectivity. I am fortunate enough to have travelled to many parts of the globe, and if there’s one thing I can say confidently, it is this: I find myself falling in step with a country and a culture almost seamlessly, even if the language, currency, food and features are palpably alien.

Hence, even though I detest labels, the one I would most identify with at this point, is that of a global citizen. A hokey sentiment? Maybe. But one that feels most true to who I am today.

All those years ago, when I left home to pursue my career ambitions, I had no idea where I would end up and what I would end up doing. In twenty-odd years, I have lived a life I could only have dreamed of. A life filled with love, laughter, happiness, sorrow, career highs and career lows. I have been delighted to discover some wonderful facets to myself and been equally dismayed to find that I am also chock full of flaws. I have become a wife and a mother, I have become a teacher and a writer. I have travelled the world and I have retreated into superlative books.

If I am fortunate enough to have another few decades of life left on this planet, then all I could ask for, with humility and gratitude, is more of the same.