ever listened to your voice?

Lights. The rays fell on the tall Douglas fir trees, summer that it was; their transparency complimenting the bright green of the leaves to reflect back a bright orange. An orange that I saw every morning, when I looked out of my window, peeking occasionally as I went about the ritual of getting ready for work. Do not turn the hands of the clock, but picture it with a 'PM' instead of the much despised 'AM'. Twelve hours later, every evening, after a scheduled day in the office, I sat on a brown couch, on the fourteenth floor, with a book to tinker my creativity. I looked up, almost periodically, to allow my mind some breathing space, and I faced the window. The rays were still there, summer that it was; their colors showing through the clouds, a palette that would start with light blue, visit a dark purple before finally deciding to take the color of the night, black, at 10PM. Lights.

I had been here before, in Vancouver, not long ago. It was for four months, for an exchange program. I've never written about that, but I would someday, not today. It was a turning point for a lot reasons. I cried, in despair but then I discovered joy, in hiking. I was hurt, in overthinking but then I filled the holes by cooking. It was hard, it was beautiful. We don't need to get into this now, it's where it needs to be, doing what it needs to do; making me a little stronger, a little mature; just a little, every day.

It's underrated, the role that people play in your life. Seeing people, let alone talking to them, can contribute to a healthy state of mind, is what my general experience has been. I came alone, to Vancouver. The friendships that I had built during my last visit here, were still going to be a long distance game, given that they were all exchange students and were now back, in their comfort zones. I had subleased a room on the university campus; not the same housing complex as the last time; a ground floor apartment with three other students conveniently underwent an architectural elevation; on the fourteenth floor; a fully furnished two bedroom abode. It didn't take me long to realize that I didn't have any roommate. 'I have me for company', I motivated myself.

Forty minutes away, on West Broadway. That's where I went the next day, to work. I went there for the next eight weeks that followed. It went by the name of Genome Sciences Center. I had been notified that the dress code was 'Business-Casual'. A white shirt with little designs showered across, black jeans and bright blue converse shoes. The most formal attire I could present myself in. I immediately had a meeting with the HR team, followed by a training with the group that managed the internal software network and concluded with a one on one discussion with my 'Manager'. It didn't take me long to realize that this experience was going to be way different from the one I had last summer, at a research lab. That was in close liaison with the PhD students; constant interactions. This was a proper company; there were no co-interns and the 'employees', as they should be called, were spread across a diverse age group. 'I have me for company', I motivated myself.

I was expecting this, the lack of familiar faces and being 'isolated', before I arrived. It was one of the reasons I wanted to come back, to challenge these limitations, the doubt that I wouldn't manage to be independent. It was not about untying the current human threads, back home, but rather about stitching together, the threads within me. It excited me, the opportunity to be alone, and push myself to not feel alone. And the opportunity presented itself exactly the way I imagined it to be, the way I wanted it to be. Only now, I had to deliver, deliver to push those barriers away. I would be staying alone in an apartment, going back and forth to a company without the luxury of someone with a similar background. I was game!

Training, that's what your mind needs in situations like these. It requires work every moment, consciously at first, and then your body learns to train itself. I left from India, with a plan in mind, a plan that I believed would help me 'get through' those moments that I have, moments with me. A few days into work and it was established that I would be back home by 5:30PM. Legend has it, that I sleep by 11PM. That's a good quarter of a day I had to take control of, everyday. Work in office was exciting, but also tiring, and that eliminated the option of going out again, once I was back. I mixed a few spices, serving a light meal to my appetite. It was 7PM now. I'm on the couch, a brown one, near the window, tired yet keen to get going. I had the opportunity to put into practice one of my occasional hobbies; occasional because I've never, ever continued it over a long stretch, just like the other things I've been involved in. It's funny. I constantly crave for stability, for a constant state and yet I've wavered, all my life, between activities that once pleased me, only for me to give up due to reasons I can't fathom. But life had brought me back, to this past pleasure, to the joy of reading. During the first four weeks, I read four books. I can't say that I enjoyed every moment, for two of those books were heavy reads; making me uncomfortable by taking me along unfamiliar roads. I would often need a break from reading those intriguing lines and I would pull my neck up and look out. Vancouver is located in the province of British Columbia, and is surrounded by mountain ranges with a coastline to supplement the natural terrain. I looked out. They were sailing through, in all sizes, those mighty boats, with the hills stretched across as wide as my eyes could see; the clouds took turns to try out different attires, light blue to dark purple, before finally taking on the color of the night, black, at 10PM.

Uneasiness, the feeling of it, is natural and unavoidable when I start something new. Amir, my manager, an Iranian, presented a clear plan for the next two months, the implementation of which required me to hone skills, which I had never tried my hand at before. He was amiable and spoke just the right words, at the end of that first discussion, 'What's important is that you learn; completion is just a marker!'. Getting familiarized to the task at hand, I would run into 'minor' technical issues and 'major' motivation issues. No sooner would I hit a barrier, I would rush to Amir, and he would provide me the necessary technical know-how, that served to pull back the drowning desire to work. It would soon be evening, time for me to leave, with certain roadblocks still to be addressed. The mind carried them home, worried that it would have to readdress them the next day, causing a repeat of the cycle; the cycle where motivation remained at the bottom of the wheel. I would wake up at 7AM; the ghosts were there already, reminding me of what lay ahead at work. I made a phone-call. 'Is it okay if I skip work today? I'm sleepy.' It was a stern reply, 'No, you have to go.' A simple 'NO'. I could not carry the guilt of not obeying those instructions. I dragged myself out of bed, irritated, and forced myself to get ready. A couple of hours later, at 8:45AM, I reached the work place. I got right into it, looking for ways to break the deadlock. The soldiers that were curbing me from getting a break through in understanding the task, suddenly started getting defeated that day, one at a time. I gave out that shy smile that I so often express when I'm happy. The first part was done. We were ready to move on to the next task, Amir mentioned in one of the discussions a few days later. New soldiers were recruited. Uneasiness, I carried it home. The next morning, at 7AM, 'Is it okay if I skip work today?' 'NO', said the voice on the other end of the phone. I got ready; the things I do to avoid guilt. I reached work at my usual time. We would have a daily 10 minute group meeting, 'SCRUM', as members of the software fraternity refer to it. It was on that day, the day when I was carrying new soldiers in my head, that Daniel, a colleague, decided to be an archangel. 'I'll brief Mihir with API's so that he can get started.'. The work was centered around 'API's'; hadn't dealt with that before and I was having difficulty picking it up online. But that's when he stepped up. An hour he spent, painting a canvas of software jargon, whilst I threw little doubts at him which he dealt with patiently. I had found my 'co-intern'! That day at work was great! I was able to get work done, in the bulk. It was the day I had considered skipping work. The day I had made the phone call. The day the soldiers were recruited. The day they were defeated, one at a time. The remainder of the internship presented challenges, undoubtedly, and I would still be worried about them, worried as to how I would solve them. It would be evening, when there were roadblocks still to be addressed. But I didn't carry them home. I would wake up the next morning, the ghosts were there. But I no longer made the phone call. I simply told myself, 'NO'. I would reach work and address them there, where they need to be addressed.  It required work every moment, consciously at first, and then my body learnt to prepare itself. Training, that's what you need in situations like these.

Quarter of a day, every weekday. I took care of that, I learnt to; reading helped me. There were eight quarters on each weekend, for eight weeks. Who thought holidays would present an overwhelming problem? It had presented me with the discovery of hiking, the last time I was here, in Vancouver. A friend of mine, an exchange student from Germany, with whom I shared a class, would conquer three new trails, every week, during those four months. She didn't finish all. She was excited to. I picked that curiosity from her, the curiosity to know what lies at the end of a rugged path through the forest. Books for the weekdays, hikes on the weekends, I premeditated when I was leaving India. What I didn't plan for, was the weather. The first weekend, when I woke up at 5AM, all energetic to go and hike, it was raining. I was stuck! I woke up a few hours later, the Sun was out, but it was late to head out to the mountain, a two hour bus ride from where I stayed. I decided to continue reading, it was not easy. How long did I even expect that that would sustain? I made a phone call. Words came out with great difficulty, tears on the other hand were easy. 'Go out', the voice said. Simple. I had seen most of the city, the last time, but there were places I still had to cover. The Art Gallery and a Guided Walking tour helped cover me for the weekend. True, I was still alone, but I saw people around. Their mere existence and presence soothed me, while I spoke to myself; their lives intersected with mine and I felt involved, involved in the bustling of the city. The week went by and another weekend presented itself. I woke up at 5AM, it was cold and foggy outside. I was stuck! I had misunderstood the concept of Summer while packing my luggage, when I left India. I was alone in the house, I couldn't stay at home, I needed people around. I didn't make the phone call, I just left. A park and a conservatory, covered me for the weekend, well for a few hours of the weekend. This had to change. I had to take control of my time off, in a better fashion. Some dedicated planning, and an hour later I had secured bus tickets to Seattle, for the next weekend, for the third weekend. The first two were failed attempts at hikes; lessons of isolation are hard, but they teach you quickly. 56 quarters later, on the next Saturday, I was in Seattle, that in itself was a success. Travel blogs have never been my thing, those of you with access to my Instagram can see the failed captions of picturesque locations; I'm going to make no attempt to change that, not today. It was a change, a new set of people, different intersections, an unfamiliar, comfortable vibe. I walked around, to explore the city, the city where Starbucks originated; I felt at ease, they were at bay, the isolation ghosts; I was fighting, and fighting hard. The bus ride to Seattle was four hours; that was eight hours of bus travel for the weekend. Earphones plugged in, throughout, it was blissful. I've realized that I enjoy music only when I travel, when I'm with me. Vancouver greeted a tired, content version of me on Sunday night. I reached home and crashed; there was no time to think what the demons had to offer. The weekdays went smoothly, trained that my mind was. Walking along rugged paths had eluded me so far, only for me to tread unsteadily on mind ventures. Pulled myself out, that's what I did. I don't know how, but there was a strange determination to complete what I had planned, four hikes for the summer. The following four weeks, I went out, irrespective of the weather, inspired to change the situation, curious to know what lay on the other side, the other side of the rugged path; on the other side of isolation. To find out what it felt like to be with me and find pleasure, generated from within. It's funny how we find it the hardest when we're with ourselves, only with ourselves and yet we expect that people would enjoy our company? I enjoyed my company; it was rugged in the beginning, but the climb up there was worth it. The curiosity paid off, it always does.

They light up inside me, my neurons, when I visit appealing cafes. It was not until I was 18, and in Delhi, that I came across this desire to try out every other fashionable food joint spread across the city. One of the most multicultural cities in the world, Vancouver offers cuisines, derived from every little corner of the globe. During my last stint here, weekdays found me cooking with a friend from India; and weekends were primarily not spent in the city. That provided limited scope for my taste buds. This summer, on the other hand, during a rejuvenated period where I was trying to explore myself, I decided to cater to those fetishes; with spices, churned across the world. West Broadway, sounded familiar to me at first; one of those streets you here about in films. Did me a favor, the company, by being located on West Broadway. The first two weeks, and my mouth was all over the place. Mexican Tacos, Curries from India, the Italian Margherita, Wraps with strong flavors; until one day I came across a Veggie Sandwich in a modernized restaurant, two blocks away. The Veggie Sandwich. I've had it ever since, every weekday, for six weeks. Two weeks later, they knew my order. Three weeks later, they smiled at me. Now that I'm gone, I know they'll miss me; as for me, every time I order a sandwich, no matter where I am, they'll be remembered, I know it; they deserve it.

A large world, they say. I wonder what they mean, I really do. I'm not talking about how social networking sites have made seemingly large distances appear negligible and how contacting your loved ones, simply needs the birth of a desire to do so. I'm talking about co-incidences. I'm talking about coming across people in places you least expect to do so. I'm talking about it being a small world, not because it's not large, but because the co-incidences are many, a bit too many. A friend from high school, who I had last seen nine years ago, and the memories of whom were a little less than faded, messaged me one day. He had seen a post of mine on Instagram, revealing that I was in his city, the city where he had moved to do his undergrad. It was surprising, it was coincidental. Being a 'local' he knew the city better than me; I was envious and yet delighted. There was scope to view the city from his perspective, to extend my appetite to different cuisines. The Chinese; I knew their legacy only through the intensively modified Hakka Noodles available in India; as for the Japanese, I had no recollection that watered my mouth. All this changed, soon enough. I met him twice, the former classmate of mine, and Sushi and Ramen were introduced to me. They both required the use of chopsticks, I didn't bother; I was too occupied with the taste, the flavors of which could be captured through the spoon I fancied to use. Rituals are merely meant to impress others;  I needed to please myself; and that I did, the food did that to me. This was not the end of it, there was another nation that needed my approval. Inspiring me to hike, she was the one close friend I made during my exchange semester, a German, who had stayed back in Vancouver, for an internship. The States called out to her, and she left right before I arrived; constant communication had kept us updated with each other's lives. We weren't going to meet, until one day, she changed her travel plans and revisited the city where we had met, eight months ago; delight filled me. Thai curry and rice, and coconut rich sweets were what we met over, cherishing the past, the mountains we had conquered together, back in the snowy weather of November. I savored them, the meals, the friendships, the little time I got to spend with them; I had someone to talk to, not just a voice through the phone, not just the 'wise' words I threw at me the rest of the time; there were people, the mere existence of whom contributed to a healthy state of mind; less venturing, much less.

Acknowledging. It's important to do so, to accept that you're feeling particular emotions, to not run away from the experiences you're facing, to breathe in the uncomfortable; the moment you give in to that state, the state that you feel you don't want to be in, it's easier to get out of it. I've described how I was alone, be it at home, while travelling or the lack of people with similar backgrounds at work. The steps I took to fight that, reading and hiking, worked, worked well enough. The people I met, the cuisines I tried, supported my cause, sure. This wasn't a straight road though. Those quarter days that I was left with, each weekday, didn't just pass by in reading. There were times, chunks of it, were I felt saturated; I couldn't push myself to read anymore. They took advantage of this and jumped right in, thoughts of the past, feelings of uneasiness. Initially I felt gutted, disgusted at having those notions; and that's where I was wrong. I've realized, that anxiety is ephemeral, momentary almost and I need to breathe it in, to acknowledge it's presence. It's real, and it's normal. How do you expect to have positive thoughts all the time? Similarly, you can't and won't have negative thoughts permanently, it's a passing phase, meant to be accepted; it will be addressed on it's own, over time. This is not meant to be a representation of how hard it was, or how I suffered, because I did not. Probably the most productive and enriching summer, I've had. Revelations, a plenty. Involved in one of the most exciting research that I've come across, where my colleagues were working to provide each cancer patient with personalized medication, I was able to contribute a little to their cause; picking up skills that will help me along the long road ahead. I got clarity, at-least a lot more than before, in terms of what I want to do in the future; it used to be scary, given that I'm a year away from graduating; but now it's exciting! En-route to one of the hikes, I had a strong desire to settle in this beautiful city; I see myself doing that; it has taken me over, completely. Bonds, the existing ones strengthened and newer ones formed, there were collective efforts put to build meaningful relationships; the meaning of friendship was redefined for me. And all this happened this summer, when I was alone, with me, just me. It was hard, it was beautiful. It's underrated. The role you play in your own life. Being there, just your mere existence can contribute to your well being, unlike anyone else, unlike anyone else.

Don't underrate yourself; I didn't.

Cheers

Mihir :)

Special Appearance: the voice on the other side of the phone, was my father's.