As an adult, there comes a point in your personal life when very few things have the ability to challenge you. Life leads you into believing that. There might be an odd surprise for you every now and then which is fine. If you are in your early thirties and live with your partner, you by now, have a grip on the emotional aspects of being in a healthy relationship. You know when its safe to get home late. You know it isn’t safe to lie under the sheets until late on a Sunday morning and if you do, you know where to hide the knives after doing the dishes. You know when to act surprised. Well if you have a child being potty trained, it gets a little more trickier, you never know when or where the little tyke might take a dump; manageable nevertheless. He might enjoy a bassy crap on your bassy headphones. You never know. You will deal with it but you really never know. That’s a surprise. But we get better at things. We are creatures of habit. We evolve. Or we think we do.
Migrating to Canada has turned out to be one hell of a surprise for me. Well when I say surprise, its not the kind where Justin Trudeau landed up on our front door, tickets and stamped passports in hand, bottle of champagne and flowers in the other, flashing his eyebrows giddy with happiness. No. We took quite a few steps and chased this opportunity with enough rigor and vigor otherwise shown by a distant aunt who insists on visiting your house and then happens to be an Amway agent who gives a demo of a hair dryer which is quite effective at drying her bald patch. We went about it in our usual methodical way, the missus wearing her emotions on her sleeve and me with my cold calculative stone-face, one I’ve been blessed with and comes to rescue more times than I can thank. We were elated once we got it, more so for my son, because we always dreamt of bringing up our children in a fair, culturally diverse environment, the kind where he learns to explore the world in its pure unbiased glory, to make his own decisions and also to respect everyone else’s. But I digress. Maybe I shouldn’t but that’s not the point of today’s blog. Gotcha… there’s never one, is there. Well this time there is. To summarize, we planned ‘Da Migration’ to the hilt, and I rounded up my stuff and landed in Toronto in September whereas my wife and son will follow later next year.
And man did I find ‘challenge’ in the most unlikeliest places. Going back to sharing a house with people other than my wife has been a tremendously humbling experience.
Housemates! Two guys. Don’t get me wrong. Both of them are a dream. If we were down to the last three humans on this planet and there was only one house to share between them, they wouldn’t have taken me in. I’m a pain. I know. Mental note to send the missus some flowers. How I’m still in her house in the longer run, this house in the shorter run; is a mystery to me.
Here’s the top three things that make me a challenge to live with.
- My honesty. There are times when honesty is NOT the best policy; I’m told. I don’t get that.
- Everything in this world has a unique place and there’s a reason for it. The dustbin is the place for one’s opinion on Bollywood. Unless its my self proclaimed god daughter Uma. She has some inside stories on Bollywood and she really makes them interesting. She almost told me how Priyanka Chopra went a year breathing through half a nostril after her nose job. I don’t trust this information and I’m not interested in it. It could be interesting if Uma told me this story and if you were telling me this, telling it the way she would, would help keep it out of the bin. Else it you know the place for it. I digress.
- Kindness is a muscle and I rarely exercise it. Unless its a mischievous dog I’m dealing with. Or my son. Not necessarily in that order. I’m soft spoken. It cannot be confused with kindness.
This top three list is courtesy of a lot of feedback and is accurate under all circumstances, across geography and cultures; I’m assured.
So this challenge that I’m facing; the challenge of heavenly housemates finding me challenging to live with, has been a humbling experience. Each of us retreats to our personal space when you get home. It is unnerving when that definition of space changes. It is unnerving when your HOME changes.
I’m learning to break down my walls again. I have done it twice before as a bachelor. It was liberating. It is a bit tougher now more than ever. But strive I shall.
Here’s to breaking down more walls. We don’t need them. Here’s to taking on newer challenges. Here’s to a Happy New Year 2018. Here’s to my new home. O Canada !