Notes on turning 30
Last August, a day before my birthday, I left Providence (the city I lived in) for Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I had heard wonderful things about this place and decided that it will be the perfect getaway for the weekend. So a ferry ride later I was in Provincetown aka P-town.
Once there, I walked the road, a singular stretch that continued for a long time, so I knew that I wasn’t off-route. The day was semi-cloudy, and there was no sign of rain. I rented a bike and rode to the Herring Cove beach. Upon reaching, I searched for a nice spot in the expansive stretch where my vision could rest on the sea and the sky. I watched the waves, ate a sandwich with chips, watched people and talked to my folks back home. Later I went into the sea and let it take me, laying with my back on the water, looking at the overcast clouds. After what felt like 15-20 minutes, but in reality was probably only 2, I raised my head and looked around. I was farther than the farthest person I could see in the sea. I turned around and swam back to the shore freestyle. And this time, I laid on the water horizontally hoping that I would keep floating along the shore, within the same depth. The next time I raised my head, the currents had moved my body diagonally and I was slowly being carried away. I could only let the waves carry me so far. I swam back again and washed myself.
On-the-go again, I took my bike to the shops and got souvenirs for friends and my sister. While casually strolling along the winding path I stood in a corner to listen to a band playing on the street. Next, curiously following the clacking of keys, I saw two people sitting with typewriters and writing poems. They wrote one for me. By the time the sun set, I was famished. I found a café, the only one that had a vegetarian food option, & ate a big dinner. Afterwards, I was on my feet again to find a bus to my hostel in Truro. While waiting on the bus stand, I ate my last meal for the day, a tomato soup from a nearby shop.
Later in the night when I reached my hostel, exhausted from the day, the woman at the reception told me that they had organized a bonfire at a nearby beach. I was tempted but tired, so I reconsidered. Just then, serendipitously, another woman staying at the hostel came by to ask if I’d like to go to the beach together. Going with some company gave me some energy to give a nod. By the time we reached the bonfire was just about dying down, but enough for us to feast on some marshmallows and crackers. In the dimly lit night we saw two eyes shining in our direction from afar. Someone with better vision than mine silently exclaimed that it was a coyote. He probably inhabit nearby and followed the smell of the marshmallows. The woman I went with to the bonfire was from Boston. In the morning we woke up early to see the sunrise at the beach.
And just like that I hopped onto the next decade of my life, the 30s, simply and blissfully. A day that actually began with some doubt about travelling alone, letting go and trusting my path eventually built into one of the most beautiful memories that I carried with me. The hope is that this sets the tone for the decade and continues to shape the newer dimensions that I am yet to attain. Below are some more of my notes from the day I turned 30
Now, reflecting back on this day—
I was poetically inclined! Why?—
I believe the impetus was there, externally and internally, that inspired me to the point of poetry. I believe that when I was younger, I would plunge into poetry much faster. I had not read Sarojini Naidu, Christina Rosetti, Shakespeare, the Romantics, etc. as yet. For a long time my own writing was restricted to an obscure corner of my mind that would make a sudden appearance in my personal diary- one that no one was allowed to read. The hastily scribbled rants were usually transpired by meltdowns. I have come a long way now, with an inner voice that is stronger. I don’t compare my work anymore. I am here to tell my stories and bring to life others’ histories, ideas and imaginations. And I do that in the way that resonates with me the most. So looking forward to undeterred growth that allows others around me to grow as well.I have a deep affinity for beaches, a friendship with the blues— of water and open sky, that makes the most mundane of moments quite pleasant and full of life. As I age, being close to water is increasingly becoming a sure shot way of being happy, calm and gradually letting go of what needs to go. Just as the water runs its own course, it doesn’t ask or depend, it chooses. It is as unpredictable and raging as it is calm. It is my belief that adventure and peace aren’t mutually exclusive. There is a soft spot of their co-existence. As for me, it isn’t an either/or, rather I choose to prioritize both.
In my part of the world a solo trip will be seen as a tad radical. It isn’t a usual occurrence. At the Herring Cove beach, I remember seeing a lot of people with friends/family. I do not remember seeing anyone who was there alone. I observed some of these people, not deeply, just in the passing, their dynamics and their conversations. While looking around, I felt at ease. Believe it or not, it was the feeling of anonymity that let me relax. I didn’t have to think of being a person who is brown or Indian, or a woman, or an ‘alien’, or the other— I was just there. [Just to give some context, I have felt more aware and conscious of my identities ever since I came to the States. That is not to say that profiling does not exist anywhere else in the world, but rather, this is my first longish stint of being in a country where I am a minority in more ways than one.] So when I was at the beach laying under the cloudy sky or swimming in the sea, anonymity was not scary for me. It allowed me to relax and refresh. It let me be. This memory of this day is a reminder for me to pause periodically. For in these commas and semi-colons of life lie the fuel for creativity, a chance at magic— which we can never be enough! I hope to be more comfortable with pausing.
Now, I have spent many a— birthdays surrounded by my loved ones and I am extremely grateful. Recently, struck by the loss of two very important people in my life, my definitions of celebration have changed. For me, celebrations are not just loud and full of dopamine. Rather, they are about being joyous in company and also in solitude. I celebrate moments of sharing food or chai, taking long walks or trips, journeying to see my people, sharing warmth and freedom. Living independently has been a lovely change, and that comes with a bit of a surprise. It has allowed me to connect, share and engage with more people in a profound manner. I has also enabled me to embrace possibilities and be more vocal about my feelings. With a promise, because hope feels less committal, of more growth, adventure, strength, love and peace.
Embracing what lies ahead and looking back at all the bigger decisions and seemingly insignificant ones that have brought me to where I am, I feel a content- in a mildly ecstatic way. To end my notes on the turn of the decade, I want to say that I have a growing list of things that I want to accomplish. But in every pause that I take, I remember that I am here, I am breathing, and that is enough.
