Building habits, bit by bit

Yesterday, after I finished my post for the day, a habit that I’m trying to build after years of not sticking to writing every day, I got down to work on Seesaw.

It’s another habit I’m trying to build. Working daily on my own music, with the intent of making at least small steps in finsihing things. Not necessarily getting done with one song in a day (as some electronic musicians seem to have the habit of), but more like setting an achievable goal (every night) and achieving it.

So I’m quite proud to say that I finished the song as a draft production, and it has come out surprisingly well. This basically means it is yet another song that I could choose to professionally produce and release whenever I get around to doing it.

As usual, I shared the song with the three people that I share my works with, and all three had shared positive (varying levels of) feedback about it. The most positive one came from my ex-colleague, and hers felt more like how I had felt about the song. So I chatted with her a bit about the song and the whole creative process.

That’s when it struck me that I could write a blog post about the song, the process, and the habit that I’m trying to build. Here it goes.

Seesaw has been in my life for about 8 weeks. It was born on the day before my knee surgery. An idea had seemingly floated into my brain, inspiring me to grab the guitar to write a hook and record it on my phone.

I remember having checked out the recording after dinner at the hospital, before Jay would leave for the night. It still had it. It had me. It had the potential of being a catchy song that would easily find its place is my top 10 dance/pop discography.

I came back to it on the second week after surgery, when I was finding it difficult to sleep one night. By then the melody for the three parts of the song was set in my head, and it was easy to write lines of the right meter to fit it.

The next day I sang it for the first time, and it was a bit of a let-down because I wasn’t getting the poppy punch that I was hoping it would have, right out of the gate.

Cut forward three more weeks, and I was able to sit at my music work desk for a long enough duration to start working on my productions. Mind you, I had a good excuse to not work on this song. My pop bass was away with my bandmate, who was sub-bing for me during my recovery period.

Yet, somehow, picking up the bass that I generally use for thrash metal gigs out of storage, I started laying down the parts.

The guitars were simple. Clean Telecaster with middle-of-the-neck riffs with a lot of syncopation and muting. Drums were too. Straight up one-two kick and snare with hats. A pickup loop and claps for the chorus. Reverse cymbals for transitions.

Keys were more difficult. I needed some nice sounding pads and a gentle arpeggiator. Pads were a disaster and eventually went on mute. The arpeggiator was found after a few hits and misses. Then came the bass.

For producers/musicians out there, if you are wondering why I’m tacking bass the last before vocals, I really don’t have a good answer.

The best I can come up with is that when I lay down a bass groove after the other elements come in, it's almost like I’m jamming with a band, just like how I would in a real band. That seems to give me enough freedom to loop and come up with some bass line ideas, one of which will eventually make it to the song.

It wasn’t easy at all. Because of some damned pick-up, earthing noise I have at my desk with that bass. It was frustrating at best, and over the course of three days (not consecutive by any means), I had three versions of the bass line, each noisy in one way or the other.

Of these, the last one had manageable noise and was groovy enough for me to want to sing the song in the way that I had always imagined it. That’s how I had left the session three days ago.

So when I wrapped up my post here and opened the song session, I had no idea that it was that groovy. Also, before sitting down to write on the blog, I was jamming some songs on a new acoustic grand piano VST I had downloaded (Autograph Grand; thank you, Spitfire Audio).

Since I’m about a year into playing chords on keys (it means that not proficient at playing piano), I had to slow my chords down so that I made fewer mistakes, which also forced me to sing the same melody in diferent ways.

Finally, I had hit the right vocal texture for Seesaw. Then I tried the vocal texture on the guitar at the right speed, and it sounded good. So much so that I came up with a backup vocal hook that had the potential to fix my arrangement as well.

Voilà, in about an hour, I had done the vocal tracking and done the basic mixing. Then I did some more editing for getting the dynamics of the arrangement right and did a quick master, before cranking out a mix-down.

My first listen on my MacBook Pro speakers was a disaster. Terrible cut-through noise from the bass (instrument) over the bass (line). It had sounded so good on headphones and on the monitor speakers!

A couple of listens on some bluetooth earbuds eased my anxiety, and the song did sound great in the choruses, especially the second one, which had the new backup vocal hook glueing everything together.

By the time I was in bed, adrenaline was high, and I was expecting another night of difficulty in falling asleep. But I had some podcasts as lullabies and despite sleeping 2 hours later than my schedule, I did get a decent night of sleep.

So, after a terribly busy workday, featuring me doing a lot of re-reviewing things—because the original review’s comments were ignored—I was left with choosing to take a break from the new habit. I am tired. I was tired when I had the option of not sticking to the habit-forming habit.

I resisted. I went back to a song that I wanted to improve on. And I started the process. Before I had my dinner. That’s because I knew that I ought to give myself an early night of sleep.

So, here I am, after dinner, feeling the first waves of sleep, finishing this post, proud of having two habits with unbroken streaks.

Tomorrow will be a challenge because Jay and I are headed out to the country house over the weekend, after a late-evening physical therapy session. I do have to wake up real early and get my reading and exercise done before a whole workday and the evening shenanigans.

I’ll wish myself luck, but I’m fairly confident that I’ll keep the street intact, for I can choose to write for both. Maybe I can write about what I wrote for my second habit. We shall see tomorrow evening.

Two flashbacks and the present

Today was good despite it being terrible. Good because I was able to accomplish things despite some situations being totally stacked against me.

I had my regular therapy this morning. It was interesting because of the parallels that I’m drawing to the twins Rahel and Estha in the book ”The God of Small Things” by Arundhati Roy. In a nutshell, that book has somehow captured a bunch of experiences (including traumatic ones) in my childhood, and by reading it, I have kinda relived them and also gained perspective on how things are like for kids in Kerala.

I also realized that the twins are kinda my friends now. Imaginary or not, they are likely to understand and feel the stuff that I went through. Roy’s writing has also inspired me to get back to trying to write my own stories. You know, that thing I keep on trying to make happen, but it hasn’t yet. More on that later.

Sometime later in the morning, I decided that I’m going to take it easy with my physical therapy exercise schedule. Like taking the leg day off, and in my case it is literally taking both the leg days off.

Must have been the beers last night. Oh yeah, I did walk (cough, cough) over to a watering hole last night. Met up with friends from a team that I’m no longer working in, but sure I’m working with.

Why the italics and coughing, you ask? Because I limp/hobble instead of walk.

Okay. But why? Rather, how? And what physical therapy? What’s going on?

Well, well, well. I guess it is time to lay it all out here.

Nine weeks ago

Did I tell you that I’m very much into motorcycling? If I hadn’t, I really should write about it. It’s been going on for a couple of years. Serious stuff. Bought a Honda CB350 two years ago. Bought all the safety gear. Started riding long and regular. More like a mental feat than a physical one. Meditative and awe-inspiring. More on that later.

One bike is not enough for two riders with distinctly different everything, including riding style, temperament, and preferences. The second rider is J, of course. Yeah, he’s also into motorcycling. Pretty much has always been, but has finally turned a corner in terms of doing motorcycling seriously.

This meant borrowing someone else’s bike. Thankfully, my friend and band mate is a sweetheart, and he has been lending his bike for the last two years. But this was tiring, primarily because I had to pick up the bike from his place, which is about 1.5 hours from my place (in Mumbai traffic) and that added about 4 hours of extra ride time on an otherwise 10- to 12-hour riding days.

The solution was simple. Get another bike. So we did. But it was a bit of a rush, and the monetary transactions didn’t go through on the night of the first long ride with J riding with all the newly-bought safety gear.

So the night before, I did my 3-h schlepp to get my friend’s bike. And so we did what we have been doing for a few months.

But this time it was J’s ride. And my friend’s bike isn’t as fast (or safe) as mine. And I ride slower and safer than J. And J rides my bike. I can’t fuck up J’s first big ride. So I ended up making a risky decision with my friend’s bike jamming its brakes on me.

But wait, I was wearing protective gear, right? So no scratches on me. The bike’s got a few, but minor. But then what happened?

So I buckled my knee in an effort to quickly get back on the bike. The incident did happen on a very poor part of the road to Mahabaleshwar (it’s a gorgeous hill station on the Western Graters, approximately 200 km southeast of Mumbai), and there were trucks around, with one kinda heading toward me. So I must have panicked.

Long story short (not really, right) I had multiple-ligament tear of my left knee. This was about two months ago, and I underwent arthroscopic repair two weeks after the incident. Done by my junior from my alma mater, but not at the alma mater, but at a private hospital. Because it would be easier for J to take care of me.

It was painful. Especially the first two days and then in the first two weeks, and so on. J took care of me. Even during the difficult times. I was difficult to be with, and it was difficult for me to be with others, but it worked out.

I was on crutches or hopping in the first 6 postoperative weeks. A week ago, I started using a walking stick. You know, one of those modern ones.

In the 7 days since, I have tried to find excuses to step out of the apartment and walk. The newly unveiled Metro 2A did give me motivation, and so did the walk to the bar to meet my friends and have a couple of beers.

Cut to present

So yeah, I took it easy. My excuse was that I had other problems to solve. Like my relatively expensive MacBook Pro throttling every time I do anything related to video capturing or rendering. I have been in touch with both Apple Support and Logitech Support (cuz the camera’s from Logitech), and despite them both being helpful (or trying to be so), my problem remained.

So I had to figure shit out myself. And I reckoned it was a good enough reason to take it easy.

Also, I had a bunch of walking/hobbling to do. I had an off on Republic Day and my surgeon (my friend) was free to meet, and I wanted to see if he thought I could expedite my recovery.

So instead of doing physical therapy, I watched art lessons on YouTube. Got inspired.

Wait, what? Art? Since when?

Six weeks ago

I was in pain and I couldn’t do the stuff that I used to. So I decided to revisit sketching and painting (watercolors). Revisiting because I used to sketch my lecturers at Medical College, apart from sketching cats.

I (re)started small, but since then, I have gone on to purchase some basic/serious sketching/painting material. I even have a fanny back with art supplies. You know, to pain rocks and stuff on the go.

So far, my primary subject is Blu. In fact, just before I started writing this, I was sketching yet another bust shot of her.

Just like the 1.7 billion people around the world right now, I’m learning almost exclusively by watching YouTube. It’s pretty cool, I’ll say. The video medium does help especially in this case as I watch time lapses of the experts doing art.

Cut to present

So on my way switching between three lines of trains (two Metro lines and a suburban/local), I sketched. On the way back too.

I felt good. Sort of taking pride in listening to art instructors say stuff like, “sketch every day”, “fill up your sketchbook”, “take a sketchbook with you wherever you go” and all that jazz.

But that’s not the only thing. My surgeon/friend concluded that I can indeed start going a bit more aggressive with my transition to full weight-bearing, i.e., without assistance. That’s just great.

In between all of this, I did manage to grab dinner at the Mallu restaurant where I used to grab lunches/dinner when I was at my alma mater, mentoring my surgeon/friend. That felt nice.

And then I come back home and go through a complicate list of steps to try and un-throttle the MacBook Pro. Didn’t/hasn’t worked out. So my only way out seems to be a factory reset. And if that doesn’t work, oh lord, I don’t even want to think that I might need to buy yet another machine!

So in between all of this, I thought I should listen to my instructors’ advice, but on something that I haven’t been spending time on—writing.

And that’s why I’m writing—and presumably you are reading—this.

My life, in a nutshell

So my friend Ray asked me a seemingly innocuous question on Whatsapp.

Ray: "Hey buddy, what's happening?"

This is my rant as a reply:

"I'm busy with a bunch of things. Work, music, boyfriend, socializing, reading, learning, etc.

I have recently started following politics because of the increasingly worrying situation in India for minorities--sexual or otherwise. So I've subscribed to Indian Express, Mint, and India Today on my Kindle. That's about an hour of reading and comprehending/framing opinions.

Plus, I'm part of a book club. We just read Still Alice by Lisa Genova (about a middle-aged researcher diagnosed run early-onset Alzheimer's). The other members and the discussions are very intellectually stimulating.

On the side, I'm reading Harry Potter series, Dune (Frank Herbert), India: A History (John Keaye), etc.

Music scene has been busy with two bands being really active. One of them (SpaceHuggers), in which I'm the primary songwriter, is planning to record an album. So that's a lot of preparation and working on songs.

Work goes on as usual.

Plus, when you are seeing someone for a bunch of years, socializing with the respective friend circles also becomes a lot of "work." That takes up a whole bunch of evenings.

In the middle of all of this, I'm trying to find some time for myself. For example, I watched today's match. :)

Sorry for the rant but I had fun summarizing my life to you.

How it all went wrong today

Today has been a bad day. It started off well. I woke up early enough, made coffee, had a quick shower, and headed to the office. Although it was dull and murky, it wasn't raining on my rickshaw ride to work. I had the usual roadside idli breakfast and reached work just before my reporting time. The first hour went really well, when I thought I did well to finish the work on an assignment. Then it all started to go wrong.

First it was the constant barrage of interruptions. Junior editors asking me doubts, the project managers constantly shuffling and changing work, people randomly coming up and stopping by, work-related e-mail and instant messages on your computers. I know multitasking is not efficient, but how the hell do you ask people to stop interrupting you? One could argue that being interrupted is a given in a work environment similar to mine, but I don't think that still doesn't explain why people don't think of ways to establish guidelines to streamline all of this.

And then the personal life interruptions started to mount. Messages and e-mails from my sister and Jay. I simply cannot seem to ask them to stop interrupting me. They probably are having an easy day--well, at least I know that sister was taking a day off to recover from an upper respiratory infection--and they want to share it with. Or so it seems like. I don't want to be rude, but it still does make me stressed and anxious. Usually, my afternoon catnap does wonders. It did today too. But after that, the constant stream of interruptions kept me on edge all evening. How I wish I could just block everything and just do my work.

Then the day became worse. Unnecessary wait for the rickshaw, heavy rain on the way with me getting partially wet, crazy traffic--all of this when I was trying to reach my apartment in time to receive my guitar amplifier from someone that my friend was sending it with. In the middle of all this, there was a playful, teasing Jay, at the other end of a Whatsapp chat. Eventually, I let him know that I would appreciate if he would be a little more understanding and less teasing when things are not working out for me. I don't think he completely understood but there was a temporary relief from the frantic texting.

Then I walked into my building to screaming kids, as usual. I walked into my apartment to find that the maid hasn't come in an done the cleaning. Eventually, I learned that my friend was not going to be able to send the amplifier after all! I was so edgy by this time, that I felt that I need to have dinner and go to bed early. So I dial the restaurant downstairs to only find out that there telephone line is engaged for almost half an hour! In between all this, some more texting with Jay. Eventually I got through to the restaurant and got some dinner.

I tried to read a book for a bit but the most annoying ads in between overs on the cricket broadcast and the screaming kids on the corridor did not let me concentrate. Then I had dinner and I felt slightly better. Jay tried some philosophy on the fucked-up-ness of the world on text. That's probably not what I wanted. Eventually, he asked me if I would like to have a phone conversation. A usual, I refused because I felt that we would have a very edgy conversation. It was hard to make him understand why I must go to bed early.

I watched the last few overs of the test match while sorting out my medications for the next few weeks, putting the cocktail of pills in my monthly pill box. I realized that I was relatively short of one of the six I was on. That means that I have to go get another prescription from the shrink and go to the pharmacy and beg for them to give the drugs to me! Aarrgh! The only other things that I can imagine that could have made this day worse are losing my wallet, getting dumped, and have multiple limbs amputated in a road traffic accident.

I want this day to end. Please.

A conversation with Vinokur

It's been almost four years since I broke up with Vinokur. The phrase "broke up" seems harsh to describe what had really happened. Maybe I should paraphrase it as transitioning from a phase in our relationship to another phrase, where the balance between friendship and affection is different. Although it was initially difficult for both of us (I think) to remain in touch with each other and be each other's best friends, like we were during our romantic relationship, we maintained contact, albeit sparse, in the initial few months.

The conversations that we tended to have usually started with a background of him needing some advice from me regarding his health problems or me needing him as a friend who I trust to confide in during the darkest phases of my depression. Yes, even now, Vinokur is one of the few people that I trust well enough to expose my precarious mental states during crises. However, despite us hanging up almost every time saying something like, "That was very enjoyable. Maybe we should do this more often," we hardly seemed to be able to keep our word and only Skyped once every couple of months or so. This has been severe since early April, when my present phase of depression kicked in. As the usual trend during such phases, I have been avoiding conversations. However, this time around, I've been avoiding Skype conversations as well with almost everyone, including my faithful confidants. In fact, I think I have had only three or four brief conversations, one each with Blummer, Mickles3, and Billiards, but none with Vinokur.

So two night's back, Vinokur wrote me after posting a photo of me on Facebook, which got a lot of reactions. I have also been off of Facebook since early April and all I get are notifications in my email. So I didn't know which photo it was and what the reactions were like. Vinokur had simply written, "Will you have time to talk?" When I receive such messages from him, I usually end up worrying whether there is some big problem in his life that he needs my help with. That's how my mind makes me think. That is, it makes me think that the only reason why someone ever would want to have a conversation with me is because they cannot help avoid it.

My apprehension was slightly alleviated after I told Jay (my boyfriend) that Vinokur had written me. As always, Jay calmed me down and said that may be Vinokur simply wants to talk with me. May be he simply misses you and wants to get back in touch with you. Along with that, Jay forwarded the aforementioned photograph on Whatsapp. Vinokur had taken that photo at a market near our apartment when he visited India in 2008. I felt relieved to see the photo--my fear of something wrong happening in Vinokur's life forcing him to have a conversation with me seemed less likely.

We finally had our conversation last night, and it lasted almost four hours! Just like the good ol' times, with the only pleasant change being that I was sipping a nice blended scotch the whole time. It's amazing how we can sustain a conversation over such a seemingly long duration. We talked about everything--such as, his health, my health, my depression, the books we were reading, the things we were watching, the podcasts that I wanted him to check out, why I'm not being on Facebook (because of it being intimidating, something that I posted on Reddit and got a few interesting and supportive responses for)--in between spells of laughter and linguistic lessons (from him to me). It felt really good.

Anyway, during this conversation, I introduced him to the concept of mindfulness meditation* as well as the other measures that my shrink/therapist duo are employing in their efforts to get me back on track. Within a few hours of us hanging up, almost serendipitously, I received a link from him which seemed to tie up several things that we were talking about last night. More on that below**.

It may seem strange to others when I confess that I get a lot of strength and courage out of such conversations/interactions. In fact, this entire series of events--from Vinokur posting a photo of me to Facebook to the conversation that we had about me not being on Facebook--may eventually lead to me thawing myself out from Facebook hibernation! Wish me luck! Also, thank Vinokur and Jay! :)

*If you are unaware of mindfulness, I strongly recommend that you check out this video of a Google talk by Jon Kabat-Zinn, the guy who made meditation mainstream in the world of modern medicine.

**I have written in detail about what this link is about on Neverlast. Here's the tweet that Tumblr sent out after I posted it. If you are interested in psychology, you may want to check it out, especially if you have had problems with depression and anxiety.

People do not like to be alone - a scientific fact - If you are like me, having grown up in a relatively... http://t.co/c5h2Z89pA7
— Krishna Kumar V. (@krishna_kumar_v) July 27, 2014

The Eight Qualities of Cultured People - from Brain Pikcings

If you haven't come across BrainPickings.org, this is a good time for it. I was introduced to it by Jay, my partner. Every day, on Brain Pickings, I come across such interesting articles of creativity, books, philosophy, better ways to live our lives, etc.

Today, for example, I stumbled on an article: Anton Chekhov on the 8 Qualities of Cultured People. Most of the article resonates with me and my principles. However, the following points need further mention:

They respect human personality, and therefore they are always kind, gentle, polite, and ready to give in to others. They do not make a row because of a hammer or a lost piece of india-rubber; if they live with anyone they do not regard it as a favour and, going away, they do not say “nobody can live with you.” They forgive noise and cold and dried-up meat and witticisms and the presence of strangers in their homes.

My myriad of idiosyncrasies, neuroses, and depression prevent me from being able to follow this advice.

If they have a talent they respect it. They sacrifice to it rest, women, wine, vanity…. They are proud of their talent…. Besides, they are fastidious.

This is very true for me. Even in my relationship, I sacrifice many things to my love for music and learning.

What is needed is constant work, day and night, constant reading, study, will…. Every hour is precious for it…. Come to us, smash the vodka bottle, lie down and read…. Turgenev, if you like, whom you have not read.

This, I'm able to do - not for reading, but for learning and working on my music. My friends, especially Jay, complains that I drive myself into too much stress with this. I disagree. This is how I do what I do best - try and reform myself and my skills.

My Triumvariate Balancing Act While Floating in the Ocean of Depression (2013 - a Year in Review)

Exactly 365 days back, I was happy - or I felt that I was. I was in the initial stages of a promising relationship, life was good, and I was under therapy. I thought I had everything under control. Finally, it was time to see whether I was dependent on my pharmacotherapeutical crutch.

Prompted by my shrink, under the umbrella of my "real" first short-distance long-term relationship, I decided to take the chance. Under the shrink's guidance, I tapered myself off of medications, with almost total compliance. Things seemed okay. The relationship, thanks to its realness and rawness, was giving me a lot of scope to test my endurance and limits. So was work, with the management at my office seemingly destined to stretch the employees to their physical and mental limits. In such phases, I get into the mode of trying to better myself, and I pushed myself harder. I thought I was doing well, coping enough to hang on to my biochemical mileu by very shaky threads.

In tandem, something else was happening. Under the pretence of the need for "space" in the relationship, whic was triggered by the frequent arguments, fights, six or seven 'almost-break up's, I started spending more time by myself, with my guitars in my apartment.  This, not too surprisingly, resulted in a rejuvenated phase of songwriting, thanks a lot to the freshness added by my new partner in musical crime.

This was the silver phase of an otherwise gray 2013, during which time I had the cushion of the remnant unmetabolized/uneliminated drugs in my body, along with a relatively acquiescent phase in the relationship. It lasted for a few weeks, two months at the maximum, after which the monster was unleashed. The feelings reminiscent of childhood and adolescence were back - fear, apprehension, exaggerated startle response, insecurities, self-loathing, self-esteem issues, excessive tendency to punish myself, self-blame, almost-delusions. So were behaviors, including anger management issues, rage, raising voice, and abnormal conversational mode. All this was made worse by the incredibly long hours at work daily, which seemed to get worse as the year progressed.

Around my birthday on the 7th of November, a series of events led me to my first real nadir of depression in about 18 months, driving me to consider whether it was worth living while being miserable and causing others to suffer. On a Saturday night, when almost everything around me, and everyone who I was communicating with, seemingly suggested that I was a worthless piece of shit, I decided to call up and check with the only person that I thought I could trust – Vinokur.

Of course, he was not aware of what was going on. But thankfully, I got the answer. That gave me the validation that I required. Within 12 hours, thanks to the persistence of my boyfriend, I visited the shrink and I was put on temporary medication. I went on to undergo a comprehensive psychological test, the results of which suggested a plethora of psychological issues, including post-traumatic stress disorder, childhood abuse, depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety-related, and stress-related issues. In a blood test, I was found to have Vit D deficiency and hyperlipidemia, and an ultrasound of the abdomen revealed fatty liver.

At the moment, the shrink and I are planning on a comprehensive treatment plan, including behavioral therapy, meditation, counseling, and pharmacotherapy. In addition, I am in the process of consulting a physician for the management of hyperlipidemia and fatty liver. As I write this post, I am in the middle of my first real vacation after February this year. I am at Meherabad (off of Ahmednagar, approximately 6 hours from Mumbai) with Jay, after having invited by my friend Billiards. The calm and quiet of Meherabad along with the lack of work-related stress has been working for me, reinforcing my views that the countryside may be the long-term solution to my depression. Anyway, I hope this will mark a period of gradual improvement.

Plus, I realize that the pharmacotherapy, which gave me a very "feel good" period from mid-2012 to mid-2013, had handed me a very unproductive, in fact, disastrous, phase as a musician. I regret that it took so long for me to realize what was happening. In the last few months, I have tried my best to reinstate my career as a musician. Although the addition of rehearsals and related affairs add to the stress in general, there is no way but try to ensure that I follow the path that gives me most creative pleasure and satisfaction.

Here's to a very productive 2014, when I must juggle the three repsonsibilities - work, music, and relationship - while ensuring that I cope with my depression.

Merry Christmas

I can't believe that it's been over 6 months since I last posted a note on this blog. I sincerely apologize. Just so you know, I had my last major bout of depression in early April 2012. Life has almost come around a whole circle in the succeeding 8 months or so. I'm at a very happy place in my life at the moment. Knock on wood!

So what happened in that period? The lack of motivation to share thoughts, which comes bundled with the package of depression in the brains of people like me, was the reason in the first three months. I cheated. I mean I lied, or, maybe I should say, I didn't come clean with the truth, in the last few posts. This was when I was really struggling to comprehend what was happening to me.

Supposedly, I was happy. I was in a promising relationship, had ongoing projects with three bands, one one of which looked like it would fulfill my dream of cutting an album, and my work-life was going smoothly. From out of nowhere, it hit me. I fell flat on my face and the people closest to me chose to give up on me. Within no time, I was dumped my my lover, rejected by one band, kicked out of another, and stranded by the third.

I was dazed and confused but I managed to not crack down under adversity, thanks to some excellent friends, who stood by me and saw me through, and of course, to my new shrink. Thank you, Billiards, for spending so much time with me on Skype virtually every night for many months. Thank you, Sujit, for helping me find a new shrink, which made me turn the corner. Thank you, my work colleagues, for providing me with the wonderful environment where I spend most of my awake hours. Finally, thank you Mr. Psychiatrist, without whom, wouldn't have known what it is like to be really happy.

The new shrink, almost magically, brought in a radical transition by switching me to a new medication and guiding me to cognitive therapy. He suggested that I should be weaned off of the previous psychoactive cocktail (low-dose combination therapy with escitalopram, clonazepam, and haloperidol) and started me on bupropion. Along with that, he guided me to http://depressioncenter.net, which gave me the insight about cognitive therapy - I meticulously maintained a mood diary for about a month, which enabled me to find out what were the real triggers, and thereby find the root cause of my negative thought cycles.

Sometime in late July or early August, I started enjoying life like I have never before. I guess I had more time for myself with most of my responsibilities as a musician, apart from my that as a solo performer, having vacated my life, and I started watching, following, and reading stuff that interested me and I started looking forward to spending time by myself. I restarted socializing - dating, drinking out, going for movies, etc. I also was able to get rid of my guilt to spend money for myself for entertainment and leisure. By September, I was dead sure - the period comprising the last three months or so was the happiest that I had ever been.

Then, in October, out of nowhere, I met three interesting men - all three attractive, single (well, technically, at least), and interested in me. All three are so different and yet seemed to offer me something that I had never experienced in Mumbai - dating. Although I'm good friends with all of them, I have spent most of the last two months with one of them - Jay - and it has just been a wonderful experience.

Thus, on the eve of Christmas, I sit by myself, content and happy, albeit missing Jay, hoping to spend the New Year's eve with him.

Merry Christmas.

Stay calm and hug a bear. Trust me, that works.

A Friday To Remember (part 2)

(coninued...)

We got back on stage and played a short acoustic set. After that, we invited our friends and a talented bunch of musicians to perform a few songs. They invited our drummer to play with them for four songs and invited me to play drums for the fifth song. I started the song slow and I gave a shoddy performance behind the kit. But it was all mean in fun and I didn't want to take all the negativity forward to my set of three songs, which included 'Torn' by Natalie Imbruglia, 'The Prayer Inside This Song', and 'What I Have Lost'.

I introduced 'The Prayer Inside This Song' as a song written by my ex-boyfriend (Vinokur) in 1968 when after he had a hangover with cocaine. One guy in the crowd jumped out of his seat and asked me 'Your boyfriend?' I nodded. Later, I was introduced to him and he said that he was gay and was happy to see someone from the same 'clan'! The set went okay, I thought - my voice was a little tired after the first set with the band. For a show without a proper soundcheck, I think the performance was good.

Later the band took over once more and we did a five-song finishing set, at the end of which the crowd started requesting for more. For some odd reason, Dr. R and Jay were in a hurry to leave - they didn't even hang around to say a proper goodbye. I went back to my apartment with my date to have a drink and a lovely conversation which was sprinkled with a couple of private (special) performances of my songs. We slept really late. We woke up late and had coffee at home and breakfast at the Mucchawallah Dosawallah. Then I saw him off in a rick.

That capped a wonderful day of ups and downs where I think I succesfully managed all three major facets of my life. I tag this as a #win.

A Friday To Remember (part 1)

Yesterday was a classic day when I was called to combine all three facets of my life - work/music/gay socializing - in a manner which would envy most.

I woke up late, thanks to a late-night rehearsal, which resulted in me taking my pills later than usual. I had a hectic day at work with reviews of trainee assignments and a separate document to edit. At the end of the day, I was called in for an unplanned discussion about a client complaint on an assignment - one of the rare times I fucked up at work - that dragged my eventual departure from office even more.

I was late for soundcheck for my gig at Not Just Jazz By The Bay with Cirkles (Shoonyas). I messaged my bandmates to let them know that I was running late. Ironically enough, I reached the venue the first. I was a little anxious because I was performing a few original compositions of mine (for Ideat Savant). Ideally, I would have liked to soundcheck my set, but the band soundcheck got so delayed than we finished it at 10 pm, just 15 minutes from the starting time.

I was surprised to see my friend and shrink Dr. R and her husband Jay turn up for the event. It had been about a year since I had talked to them and I didn't know when to start. After pleasantries, I consciously tried to avoid the converation drifting to my depression and career choices. I must say that I was relatively succesful.

I was expecting a gay friend of mine, the date from the New Year's Eve party that I had attended to turn up as well. He didn't have company and since my old friends had turned up, I thought of hooking them up with my date. He arrived as were finishing our first song of the day. I beckoned him over and I suggested that he hang out with my friends, which he evntually ended up doing. I don't know if he would be comfortable, but I was hoping he would.

Well, our set-list got a warm response, and we played an electric set really tight to get a rousing applause from the crowd. Unfortunately, our vocalist was struggling with a sore throat, and we took a break after an hour and 15 minutes on stage. The break was rather long, and I took the opportunity to catch up with my friends and the date. We had a nice conversation and I introduced everyone to my bandmates. (continued...)