Raabta

"I don't believe you ever get closure on anything. Things leave a permanent mark on you."

Allison Anders

Relationships can be fickle.

One day things can be fast and loose; the next, things are radio silent.

Sometimes it's that lightning strike of a connection that disappears just as quickly as it flashed in your life.

Other times it's a blizzard that inundates you for days on end and yet slowly but surely dissipates into nothingness.

The continuity between it all is that at some point that presence is not permanent - fleeting at best.

Why do some people just fizzle out of our lives?

Have you ever watched a sparkler (Phool-jari) burn itself out? There's that initial spark of blinding light, followed by sparks flying in all directions in the most simple and yet spectacular fashion, and soon enough what is left is a burnt carcass of something that used to literally/figuratively light us up.

That's what this whole happening of someone fizzling out of your lives is synonymous with. There's a mutual attraction and suddenly you're talking until the middle of the night, like 3AM, cheesing hard over the mutual love for Jane Austen or Faiz as your Phone casts a blue glow on your face. Every time you get a text message your heart flutters, your face lights up, and you are filled with this inexplicable excitement. They've said something witty and you are more than eager to respond to keep the harmless flirtatious banter going. Somebody taps out eventually and the next day happens.

The conversations are always so enthralling, whether they touch on topics of depth varies, but no matter what you are drawn in.

Then, one person gets busy and stops responding instantaneously.

Interest subsides, discouragement sets in, and that vivacious energy between you before ... all but gone.

You stop talking regularly.

Maybe you accidentally get a Snapchat sent to their entire friend's list. You respond awkwardly before realizing they put it on their story.- impersonal and kind of obnoxious.

Weeks go by, and you see them on Instagram living their life. For a split second, you wonder what went wrong, what they're up to now, and if you should reconnect. Rational thought shadows those ideas and you continue scrolling or unfollow them, never to be heard from or thought of again.

What's the causality of these relationship casualties?

Maybe it's the medium.

Texting, messaging, snapchatting, liking, and the rest.

There's this instant gratification we get from it all.

Does it matter who does it for us or why?

Could be a yes, and it very well might just be a no.

Having people readily available at your fingertips means that access doesn't have the same significance that it used to.

Beyond you know caring about the person you're having a conversation with, there's no incentive to give a damn.

They'll still be there if you text back now or later - unless they won't.

When that shift happens from live responses to whenever you feel like it that inconvenience factor comes into play.

Are they actually busy or are they no longer interested?

What did I say wrong?

You have to know that not everyone puts the same amount of emphasis on the connections we have. You hope people value you as much as you do them but when there's no gravity to the connection it's bound to float away. You have to hold it down, and ground it in something real. You have to talk and meet up in person. You have to set specific dates with times and locations. You have to actually go.

People are complicated.

People are simple.

People are simply complicated and complicatedly simple.

Thinking about why we get so preoccupied with just some people who leave and their aftermath brings up the idea that may we care about having someone to talk to, maybe the who doesn't necessarily matter.

Are we able to flesh out what impacts us so deeply when we fall out of contact?

Is the concern specific to the person or is it the connection itself that we enjoyed?

Making the distinction is important but at the same time maybe the two are inextricably linked. Everybody wants someone to pay attention to them. Those desires come and go. Some people need it more than others. For a while, it feels good to have someone as engaged as you are on the topic of you - and vice verse.

Especially when romantic connections can abound but that one-of-a-kind spark is a rarity. Those sparks oftentimes though are not sustainable. And sometimes there's no plan to keep that fire going.

Unless intentional ways of nurturing the flame and keeping the person in your life are made, it's doomed to fizzle out.

Who is to blame? Does it matter? It's probably both of us. The fizzle is mutual.

In the grand scheme of things, We could take charge and talk about going from daily communication to constantly miss one another. We could ask what is going on and mention how we feel.

Do we like what's going on and want to explore this?

Do we put ourselves out and be vulnerable?

It's all up to us. We have choices in how we act. We can enjoy the connection for what it is or we can cut the cords. We can feel good, have fun, smile a lot, and move on.

But,

"Vulnerability is the birthplace of connection and the path to the feeling of worthiness. If it doesn't feel vulnerable, the sharing is probably not constructive." 

~Brene Brown

There is a constant feeling in our culture that we might be missing out on something better, therefore, we rarely commit to a decision that we can’t back out of if something better comes along. However 

"There's a higher form of happiness in commitment. I'm counting on it." 

~Claire Forlani

Single and Fabulous, exclamation point.

The world we live in is different than it has ever been at any other point in history. The people who live now are existing in a unique time and space. Our beliefs, practices, and cultural rituals have changed over time as well. Things that used to be the norm have now fallen by the wayside. Even the ways that we talk about some phenomena has changed. In this day and age what does it mean to be single, and what does that status say about you? 

"My alone feels so good, I’ll only have you if you’re sweeter than my solitude" Warsan Shire

There's nothing like succumbing to a trend and getting on board with what seems to be a majority of your peers. Dating apps and the medium of social media as matchmakers - what a world to live in. What are you looking for? It seems like such a simple question, complete with pre-made responses for you to select but maybe it's not that easy. Am I on this romanticized the twenties/thirties long journey to find my soul-mate, my perfect match, or my other half? Am I looking for something casual - friends with benefits, Netflix, and chill cuddle buddies, or hooking up? Am I looking for platonic friends, like-minded young people to bond with, or special interest pals to pursue a hobby? I don't know and yet I really do. I'm not looking at all. I'm not in search of anything or anyone other than myself. I'm not in the market to get hitched, jump the broom, or tie the knot. I think I want to love but on my own terms, of my own production, and the kind that can always be with me - not taken away at a moment's notice. I want safety, security, and comfort that comes from me. I want to love me. Maybe I'm not doing this whole single thing, right?

What does it mean to be single? The media portrays us as, according to heteronormative ideals, as hunters on the prowl in search of a mate either for the moment, for a while, or for life. Men are the hunters and women are the hunted - yeah no, that sounds uncomfortably like the disturbing ways in which rape culture, entitlement, and sexism are perpetuated. Queer that binary a bit and apparently it gets even more sexual. Queer folk is portrayed as hypersexualized beings seeking and willing to get NSFW hot and heavy with anyone with a pulse. That's not right either - that continual demonizing and marginalization is both dangerously limiting of narrative and not representative of every experience. Does being single mean constantly clinging to apps like Tinder, OkCupid, Bumble, or Grindr? Is it perpetually looking for the next best thing in an endless pursuit of "the one" while simultaneously disregarding what/who you might already have with you? Is it a quest for perfection or rather an egotistical game to be played with people, their feelings, and their lives? Is being single necessarily a bad thing? The pressures of others around us coupling up, incessant familial inquiries, and a media bombardment of #relationshipgoals, OTPs, and "ships" give us unrealistic expectations of what we should be doing with our single selves. What happens if we turn off all the noise and listen to not our hearts but our minds and bodies?

Does being single equate to being unwanted, undesirable, hell - even unlovable? Are we just damaged goods pushed to the back of the shelf? Are we the leftovers when everything and everyone worthwhile has already been taken? I refuse to believe any of that. Being single can be both my choice and by circumstance. I wish sometimes people spent more time with themselves than with others. Serial dating, constantly going from relationship to relationship, and relying on others for self-worth and self-esteem are not healthy habits. Being single means knowing yourself and clarifying your values before committing to anyone or anything else. It's making sure you still get to be you regardless of who you're with or for how long. It's holding on to you. It's having a fulfilling love affair with yourself - in spite of what may come and go. It's a status, not a curse or something deserving sympathy. I came into this world single and was content with that for so long - I'm sure I can do it so long as I need to lest another comes along to change that. 

Some people want stability and a long-term relationship, some people want spontaneity and the post-coitus euphoria of sex, and some people are happy and whole all by themselves. What is terrifying about a person who wants to choose themselves, whether for now or forever? Why do we think there's something wrong with them? What does that say about us as people, and as a society? Why are you so obsessed with me with love and what anyone else does with it? I think we might be in love with the idea of love and may not actually care about where or who it comes from, whether it's healthy and benevolent, or it's reality. It's the love story, the great romance, and going to the ends of the Earth for ... love - not a person, their heart, or their soul, but this feeling, this amorphous thing, this ... this ... love. It's an addiction. It's a perversion. It's unreal. I think knowing our intentions, what we want, and what we need are all very different things. Are we chasing down love just for love, or are we looking for someone for us to genuinely love, and for them to authentically love us? Are we in love with the idea of someone and are disappointed when they turn out to be more real than we ever imagined them to be? Are we infatuated with lust, the chase, and sex?

We are socialized to think we have to want certain things and if we don't that there is something wrong with us. We try to be what society and others expect us to be. We are dragged into a narrative we never asked to be part of. The reality is everyone's story is different. We have to choose what is right for us. What makes us happy. What makes us better, more whole, and content. Marriage is not an achievement - sustaining a relationship is. It takes some reproductive fluids and not much else to have a child but parenthood is providing for and raising a person to reach their full potential. If we are going to praise people for institutionalizing their relationships then we also must give the same respect to those who choose not to. We have to recognize and value people whose story does not include a nuclear family of 2.5 children and a white picket fence in the suburbs. We have to give space for normal to be individualized. We are whole whether we're partnered, divorced, adopted, fostered, half/step siblings, single, and everything else in between. Let's allow people to tell their own story and to accept it as valid, whether it's similar to ours or not. Focusing on ourselves, living for what we want/need and letting others do the same would give us the freedom and flexibility to truly live in our lives not what anyone else wants for us.

Alone Together.

Our generation is pretty screwed up when it comes to the whole dating thing.

"I'll pick you up at 7 o'clock" has turned into arriving at 7:15 p.m. and sending a text saying, "I'm here." instead of walking to the door and to meet the parents.

Snapchats and Instagram "likes" have become acceptable forms of flirting. A "like" on Instagram is way more common than a compliment in real life. 

Date night has evolved from going out to dinner to doing anything relatively thoughtful, to watching Netflix and maybe ordering a pizza. 

It seems like no one is actually dating anymore. 

Everyone is "talking" or "has a thing with someone" or is "kind of dating" that one guy from math class. 

No one wants the commitment of a real relationship, but they don't want to be alone, either. 

A guy won't take the girl he's "talking to" on an actual date, but when he sees that her best friend on Snapchat is another guy, he freaks out. 

A girl doesn't want to commit to the guy she "has a thing" with, but she gets mad when she sees that he is liking other girls photos on Instagram. 

I'm not sure when these actions became acceptable substitutes for real life conversations or dates, but it's happened, and it needs to change.

Becoming Minimalist.

We live in a world of comforts. 

Our pizzas are delivered to us at our doorsteps; 

we are spoilt for choice in online shopping, choosing everything from sneakers to underwear with a simple click; 

even dating is as simple as swiping someone’s face right or left. 

We are earning big money, much more than what our parents did. 

We are young, we are independent, we are living it up.

Yet we are miserable. 

We are stressed because the jobs are not perfect; we are unhappy because our partners are not perfect; we are insecure because our bodies are not perfect. 

We are much more stressed than our parents were; 

we are definitely much less fitter than them when they were our age. 

We cry ourselves to sleep sometimes; we drink to forget our woes; our relationships are short-lived.

We live in a world that is constantly telling us how to be perfect. 

How to achieve success, how to get the best physique, the best skin, the best partner. 

The pressure to be the best is real. 

You have arrived if you earn enough to afford a swanky car, or rent a plush house, or can be photographed partying with a chic crowd every fortnight, or are a looker who is popular with the ladies – that is the aim you have to constantly strive for. 

There are guys pumping iron in gyms, there are guys belting out numbers in boardrooms, marching towards their perfect lives with untiring zeal. 

We have dismissed academics and replaced Sharmaji ka beta with Mr Malhotra’s engineer-turned-startup-guy son who plays the drums and drinks like a fish. He is the new role model every youngster has to aspire to become. And he is much more difficult to outshine than Sharmaji ka beta. 

There is no time to breathe. 

You’ve got to achieve. 

You’ve got to have fun. 

And you’ve got to make sure the fun you just had is duly documented on social media sites. 

Having fun has become an obligation. 

It’s the assurance you give to yourself that all is well in your life. 

Or that all could be well in life. 

We go to bars on Friday nights after long unending weeks of slogging at the office, 

to bitch about our bosses and drink away our blues. 

Or to just give ourselves the semblance of having fun. 

No kidding, we have comfortable lives and we are in good institutions and will get good jobs,

 but there’s always a mini crisis lurking around. 

We are cranky. 

We are anxious. 

We are the brooding twenty-first-century heroes staring at an invisible tragedy in the face. 

Nobody sees it but it’s real; it’s omnipresent. 

It’s there when we take the metro after rushing from home without eating breakfast; 

it’s there when our friend nails the board exams; 

it’s there when we see our friend holidaying in Bali; 

it’s there when we notice that receding hairline in the mirror or the wrinkles appearing under the eyes; 

it’s there when your Tinder match doesn’t respond to your messages after your first date.

We are never happy. Because we are too harsh on ourselves. We never pat ourselves on the back that…hey, you are doing a great job being an adult. Instead we reprimand ourselves, push ourselves harder, stretching our limits—physical, emotional and social. 

We look at the perfect son of Mr Malhotra and push ourselves further, till the threads begin to snap, layer by layer. 

Ironically, there is hardly any parental pressure; Mr Malhotra’s son prides himself in defying tradition and so do we. 

Because everyone told us to be perfect. 

Everyone told us to go have fun. 

Ambition is a bitch. 

It is that double-edged sword that forms the thin line between success and obsession. 

It is not okay to be poor and sad; but it’s acceptable to be rich and sad. 

Sadness is acceptable but not poverty. 

Nobody told us to relax. 

Nobody told us it’s okay to not be perfect, it’s okay to not be ambitious. 

Well, technically, they did but we concluded either they were losers or just old. 

Because our timelines are filled with pictures clicked from the perfect angle under the perfect light. But we forget they are just pictures.

When we sleep at night, the last things we see are the screens of our phones—wandering aimlessly over timelines, trying to find something amusing to laugh at, or something fascinating to long for. 

Our attention spans are terrible; we get bored easily and quickly, I checked my Facebook account 18 times while writing this article – there were no notifications there; it was a futile exercise of habit. 

We forget to breathe. 

When was the last time you went to your home balcony, looked at the view and took a deep breath, not thinking anything at all? 

Not worrying about that pending assignment, not making mental notes of things-to-do, not thinking about your latest crush. 

Just existing in the moment completely. 

We, the ordinary young men and women of the urban world, have control of our lives; no matter how easy or difficult it is right now, we’ve got houses to live in; we’ve got friends and family, period – we are effing on top of the world. 

We should be celebrating, and yet, here we are, anxious and worried to death.