Namma Bengaluru

I watched Citizen Kane, yet again. Kane on his deathbed remembers a memory from his childhood which was probably the happiest times of his life. Watching it put me into a nostalgic mood and I started reminiscing about home- Bengaluru.  Happy times. Its been close to two years since I went home.

The rainy Bengaluru skies

My mom's beautiful rose garden

I have had a tough year. I realized something wasn't okay with my life. It hasn't been for a long time. I refused to accept the fact that I may be suffering from depression. I pushed off seeking help for way too long. I don't know why, its probably because of the stigma associated with any sort of mental illness. To accept help for mental illness is considered weakness and yet accepting help for depression has been one of the hardest thing I have done so far.

I went to consult a psychiatrist in August, claiming that I am not happy though I have everything I want in life. They asked me to think about the time I was the happiest and determine the reasons for my happiness. 

That's when it hit me. I haven't been happy ever since I was 15. I was happier when I did not have the things I have today. I did not have a swanky degree from one of the top schools in the US. I did not have paper publications. I did not have a huge penthouse loft in downtown Los Angeles. I did not have fancy shoes/ clothes/ books and other stuff I have today. I did not dine at fancy restaurants or do solo road trips. I did not have any gadgets. I did not have money of my own.

Yet I was in a blissful heaven. Those were the times when:

• I would wait for exams to get over and for summer holidays to begin so that I could spend endless hours in the scorching sun searching for insects, flowers, leaves, kittens, puppies in the gullies of Malleshwaram. 
• I would wait for my dad to come home so that he could take me out to buy me a softy ice- cream from MTR. 
• I would wait for that time in the evening when my grandmother would light up the lamps, incense sticks and recite prayers. 
• I would wait for the neighbors to head out so that I could steal raw mangoes from their tree. 
• I would spend countless hours plotting my next prank.
• I would have fantasies about going on rides in fun world and eating cotton candy. 
• I would wait for sunday evenings to watch a Kannada movie airing on DD1 with my family. 
• I would wait patiently to see if small change was lying around so that I could go buy the unhealthy lolly- ice candy. 
• I would patiently wait for a mosquito to let its guard down so that I could take pride in killing it. 
• I would wait for nights when my dad would take me to the railway station and feed me thair sadam (rice with yogurt) with pickle as we watched trains jostle by. 
• I would wait to go to my grandmother's house so that I could demand her to tell me stories from morning till night. 
• I would wait to come back from school so that I could watch cartoons on Cartoon Network with my sister and argue about who gets Dexter. (We both had a crush on Dexter from Dexter's lab.)

Materially I had nothing. I was in school, carefree, did not give a s*$# about my identity, did not feel bad that guys took no notice of me, did not care about my grades and performance. Yet I was rich with - happiness, innocence, naiveness, bustling energy, naughtiness, imagination. I had everything I ever wanted in life.

It sucks to grow up and fend for myself. It sucks to have a real understanding of the world. It sucks to know that I have become cynical about a lot of things in life. It sucks to know that I don't possess the richness I had, 12 years ago. 

The positive outcome of going and seeking help for depression has helped me reconnect with my childhood. I have a clearer perspective about the things I want in life. I am in the process of rediscovering the child buried deep within me. I have learned the value of small experiences.

Most importantly I have realized the value of having a wonderful childhood in Bengaluru, for giving me priceless memories to cherish for a lifetime. I miss home.