Of Solitude

It was in 2006, that I finally got a room all for myself to live. That was my final year of Post-Graduation in Allahabad, and incidentally that was the first time I started writing, blogging per se. It was a good start. Though, I spent a lot of time watching movies alone, reading at libraries, having a room to come back to and find no one else felt good, as I didn’t have to switch on and off between personas. That phase lasted only a year, but it was certainly the most transformative and definitive period of my life, as I learnt a lot about how to lead it. By the time, I came out of my college, I was comfortable being with myself, ready to fight it out within, and developed a casual indifference coupled with a dangerous inferiority complex that I also used as a defensive mechanism for my inadequacy. 

The next two years, I was into the wider corporate world, and living in cities meant that I couldn’t afford a room to myself, but it didn’t matter much as I found ways to be with myself, which also meant that I continued to be the nocturnal being I was in college. I loved the nights more than the days, coz they gave me more time to accompany myself in my thoughts and struggles. I overwhelmed myself with the amount of negative energy I was able to generate at that time, but still it was a curious little phase where I started loving my space, craving for it as often as possible. I didn’t write as much as I did later in those two years, and it was also partly the reason why I don’t recollect those days vividly. 

The next chance to live alone came in 2009, when my roommate got transferred to Chennai from Pune, and I opted to pay his share of the rent as well. By that time, I was very much into myself, almost to the point of being an introvert – I was never one, by the way. I watched movies alone, ate alone, drank alone and went to office alone. When someone tried to do the small talk to me, it used to irk me. I sought comfort in the confines of my room, like a dope addict looking for a joint. I didn’t want to spend even a minute in others’ company and when I managed to steer clear of everyone to my room, it felt like an achievement. Loneliness became an obsession, so much so that when I heard someone watching TV in the common room of our hostel, I avoided coming out, fearing intrusion from others. Thankfully, I’m now past that phase, but when I look back to those days, I laugh silly at my behavior. 

When I got an opportunity to work from the client location in U.S, I was concerned about the changes it may inflict on my lifestyle. I didn’t want to lose my regime, but the U.S overwhelmed me in the first few months with everything it had on offer. The corporate apartments I stayed in were some of the most luxurious I have ever seen, and may never see again. I got lost in the grandeur and for a while, I stayed along with four roommates and we went together everywhere, partly also due to the fear of being mugged. It took some time for that stage to bore me, but eventually it did. Though living alone there was quite expensive, at least for me, I didn’t want to waste any more time. 

The state of being alone is an important one in life, a fact that I realized, cherished and a quality that I admired about myself, probably the only one. I started writing and reading more and spent more time in the way that I liked. Though there were a lot of setbacks, embarrassments and guilt (I can’t gather enough courage to write about them as yet, but I will get there sometime) that occurred as a result of my fixation, I chose it – preferred it as the way I wanted to live – and I’m glad I did. To this day, the best of the times I had are the ones that I sat alone reading a book, watching a movie, thinking aloud, writing a blog post, a short story, or a screenplay, because, invariably, each of those acts demanded I spend quality time with myself, and I hope to have many more such memories.