How I trained to run and complete my first 20kms Half Marathon as a person who didn't run regularly.

Pic courtesy:- a proud me

 

In the beginning of 2003, I was not the fittest version of myself. But, yes, I had the luxury of being a young woman. The young woman I was, discovered that in Brussels there were several chances for ordinary people to participate in different sporting events. Amongst these were runs of 5kms, 10kms, half or even full marathons. I took this as a chance to be able to tick off at least one of the dreams I always had had on my bucket list. So, as soon as I could I started training for it. I had an indoor elliptical trainer that I used daily and on any sunny day, I was outdoors trying my best to see what I was capable of.t-variant-positio 

Sports had always been important to me during my teens, mainly because I was always on the chubbier side. But I never had had any actual training in sports and even when I did participate in school, I was not good. Luckily, I never let that deter any personal plans I had at self-improvement. I was good at getting others to work as a team with me and often did all kinds of exercise at home either with some friends or even alone to improve my flexibility. 

I remember some crazy challenges I had made up for myself. During one of the phases when I was busy learning what exercises existed for someone to do at home, I discovered that I was pretty good with a skipping rope (jump rope). So, I took up the challenge to do at least 1200 skips every single day for at least a month. I didn’t have any teacher; it was just me telling me what to do.

So, fast forward to 2003, I took up a challenge to run a distance of 20kms. I was already dreaming of holding a medal at the end of that distance. It would be my first ever medal for anything related to sports. This time there was no way any of the past lazy, procrastinating or bad-at-follow up versions of my younger self would be allowed to come into the picture. I somehow felt that it was a turning point for me and also a welcome gift that I would give myself for having survived my first European winter. 

So, after celebrating the exciting moment when I actually secured a place in the race, I started running regularly. However, I had no idea what sort of training to do. The internet was not a big part of people’s lives those days. Or at least not of mine. My goal was to just finish the race. The training generally meant I would plan a time to leave the house and a duration to keep running on the go and stick to it. I would train at home on the elliptic trainer or be outside putting one foot in front of the other. I did that for several weeks, I fail to remember how many in fact. 

Finally, the week of the race arrived. I received a notification to go and pick up my race number. I still remember thinking ‘oh wow look at this. My number is 30000 something. That means there will be at least 30000+ people running with me.’ The number humbled me. I felt part of a huge community who probably all had a similar goal and at that moment it didn’t matter that this would be my first time. I was now even more excited to participate and see the people and all that encompassed the event. Waiting for the D-day became difficult. 

Of course, time goes by in a wink and I found myself standing at the starting line. We were divided into four or five groups of people. Each group contained people who had a similar estimated finish time. I had no idea about my speed and so I had put down 4 hours. Which was what I thought I could do in the worst case if I walked. Let’s not dwell on the fact that back then I hated walking. I preferred running.

Our group waited in the cold, chilly weather while we heard the gun go off for each of the groups that preceded us. Then I heard our gunshot and that’s when the reality struck me. Here I was, really, really trying to do what I had prepared myself for. While it was difficult to think of anything at that moment because of the number of people I was running with, I soon found my head flooded with doubts and fears. I had decided to keep a strict ‘no exit’ policy. Ok, the thought was here and was telling me that I would probably be in pain or that I would never be able do it. But the voice in my head and heart said ‘there is only one finish line’. There was no way I was going to give up without putting up a huge fight. There was no way the older version of me, who as a child didn’t have what it took to be a sportsperson, was going to get her way again. 

All I remember today is that the first 10kms were pretty easy, I actually hadn’t felt any pain yet. Since I had had only a few weeks of intense training and no real method to follow, around the 13km mark I started really feeling the effort I was putting my body through. Running with so many other people in the beginning of the race also pushes one to go faster than training speed, but, since it was my first race I didn’t know that. I was starting to feel the strain of those initial kilometers. 

What one must understand is that the last 4 kms of this  Brussels race is totally uphill. Since it’s really a hard part of the race for everyone, most of the families and friends who come to cheer are found in this area. There are stalls to take a small break of water or grab some fruit at this point. One can find ‘help stations’ with Red Cross staff for people who have any issue to be looked at. There are several musicians who line the street and cheer the mass of runners with upbeat music and dance. Their energy helps immensely.

 I had promised myself that whatever happened throughout the race, I wouldn’t completely stop running. So, there I was at 16kms, having not stopped for a minute in those ‘God knows how many’ hours, still moving. Shuffling upwards, I really thought, ‘ok, now is when I’m going to pass out. Now I will start having a problem’. I countered this thought coming back to the fact that since  I had endured all this time, I just couldn’t give up at these last few kilometers. I needed something to give me a boost. But I didn’t have anything on me at that moment. I had already passed all the stalls and had decided to avoid going next to them. I had avoided any sort of excuse that could crop up in my mind which would put an end to my dream. 

Like a beacon of hope, I saw a lady cheering me on, on the left side of the road and she had something in her hand. It was a paper box full of sugar cubes. She placed a couple into my extended hand as I passed her. When I put one in my mouth, I felt a buzz of energy. This helped me hold on for about a kilometer. At around the 18km mark, I saw runners who had medals around their necks who were running towards us. These people had finished their ordeal and were running backwards to cheer on  people like me. ‘These people are heroes’, I said. 

That’s when I saw the Arc of the Cinquantenaire Park in the distance and knew I was close. That’s also when I felt this huge cramp envelop my right leg. I tried to move forward but found that I couldn’t run anymore. I was 600 meters away from the finish and I decided to walk. If one could call that walking. Limping and struggling with all my might, I moved ahead. People around me were falling like flies. There were so many fallen over, giving up. There were spectators trying to get those people to stand up. I said, ‘ok, it’s not just me who is finding it super hard right now.’ But no way was I going to crumble so close to the medal holding image of me, that I saw in my mind. I just kept ignoring the cramps which were now all over both legs. Kept ignoring people looking at me and kept ignoring the tears and the pain that I felt all over. I dragged myself to the finish line and I made it. I hobbled to where the medals were being placed on the finishers. Now, I had mine. And my medal met the new me.

Complaining seems like everyone's constant companion

Somewhere in France, 
pic courtesy B.Libert

 A complain is airing out plainly in view, 
that you don't like what's happening or what's coming to you.

You still hope to edit or tweak the idea,
that doesn't sit your way.
Break someone else's will and conquer,
Just a figure of speech I say.

Breath in, breath out,
there's so much to say.
Our wounds need healing, 
we can't wish them away.

I work on my healing, 
My mind learns not to yell,
I'm hoping all this will take me 
To a time I feel really very well.

Hurray, we reach a time when my mind is now at peace,
But what do I hear now,
someone's complaining about me!

The Chronicles of the youngest Child - Part 2

Somewhere in France
Pic courtesy B. Libert

 In my childhood most of the ladies of the house didn’t work. It was no different in my home in Mumbai. My Mummy stayed at home and my Daddy went to office. I had learnt about their youth as I started asking questions to them about where they came from. I had a mental image about my father being very able, social and the one who handled the outside world well. At the same time, my mother who was the whole day at home, was an amazing homemaker. I knew that as every meal was made with love, every part of our home was clean and her presence gave us a sense of security. For many things, I thought of them both as equal. But, the reality was, I didn’t have many examples of their roles being reversed. I had never seen mother travel alone or go and handle any bank or school work. I had not seen my Daddy cook or clean the house. Their roles were well defined and consequently, we as spectators had certain ideas in our heads.

One day, I was travelling back from a party with my parents. It was around 10pm and we were heading back home by the local train. Usually, women and children travel back by the ladies compartments that are present in two parts of each train. One is situated in the middle of the train and one at the end. However, those days, at 10pm, the compartment in the middle of the train became a general compartment to allow for men too. 

We reached the platform and found ourselves standing at the opposite end to the ladies. Frankly speaking, the general compartment was not very crowded, but getting into the train was difficult. Too many people were blocking the area at the entry, I noticed , while boarding the train just after my father. Soon enough, the train started and I turned behind to look for my mother. There were several people there, but no Mummy. I felt this deep fear while I kept looking for her. “Mummy’s not here Daddy!”, I said loudly. My father was very calm. He always treated every situation without any quick reactions. He told me to be calm and that we would find my mother together. We got off at the next stop, while our final destination was actually five stops away. 

I was slightly upset that he didn’t even look worried. When we got off at the next station, we went to the Station Master’s office. We got the person on duty to make an announcement that stated my mother’s name and asked her to come join her family at the station where the announcement was being done. 

While waiting there for those difficult and long 20 minutes, I was very scared. I kept looking at the door hoping to see her come in. However, after the half hour was up, my father asked me to follow him and we took one of the next trains back home. I spent all the time back home aboard  that train,  worried and with a knot building up in my tummy.  

When we got off at our station, we had still to take a bus to reach our home. At that moment, I remembered that my mother never carried a handbag. I didn’t know if she had some cash or small change stuffed in her clothing. Some women carry their change and cash in small purses that they smartly hide either in their blouses or the material of their saris.

This increased my worry and on the route back home, I kept looking out of the window searching for her on the streets. However, this was of no use as I couldn’t really see everything in the darkness.

The moment we reached our building, I ran up the stairs, entered my house and saw my brothers and sister there and searched for my mother. She wasn’t home and I started crying and tearily told them what had happened. My brothers immediately left the apartment together taking the motorbike we owned to go search for our mother.

Sometime passed and while I was being consoled by my sister and father, one of my brothers reached home. My mother had apparently entered the first train that my father and I had gotten into. The only thing that happened was, since the door was too crowded, she climbed into the compartment using the next door which had more space for her to enter. She reached our destination stop easily and quickly. But since she didn’t have any cash and those were the days that transactions happened only with cash, she couldn’t take the bus. 

They found my mother walking home slowly, wondering all this time how we had got lost.

Life in Belgium as a foreigner - No More Secrets!

When I shifted to Brussels, I was 24 years old. So, I thought I knew the ways of the world and had some work experience too. However, getting married to a Belgian man in India and living in India was surely different from the first few years of life in Belgium. Nothing could have prepared me for the culture shock that awaited me. He and his family were all native French speakers. I had never learnt French as a child or in school days. Even at university, there was French as an option, but I never thought that I would have any use of the language in my life.

Reaching here in Brussels, i realized that even though Brussels was an international city and a hub of Europe few people on the streets really spoke English. I had time on hand and within a few days, I joined a French class. It was a great way to meet new people and have a social life. It was nice to see that others like me had it hard with this new environment. That others like me, had to start again to make friends and learn the ways of life in a new country.

Looking back, youth definitely helped me. I didn’t find the process of learning this language difficult. I spoke English with my husband, so I practiced my French with his family whom we met on the weekends. I used to listen to what was being said, repeat their sentences and try and make sense of it. Body language is such a fantastic tool when you are learning a new language. So many things like encouragement, affirmation, approval or disapproval and impatience are displayed on the faces of those you interact with. Eyes shining up because they were surprised to see me try their language, a nod of the head showing that they were starting to understand me, a frown if there was a word that I hadn’t really pronounced well or a giggle because there had been a mix up in the sounds I had used were a very common occurrence. 

Very often, I would start on a topic when I met someone from the family and they would encourage me by being patient and entertaining my efforts. But, in Belgium or anywhere in the world, I notice that people speak for an average of ten minutes slowly and patiently in an informal setting. They then quickly start speaking at their normal pace of communication. When this happened, of course, I couldn’t keep up. Instead, I found myself having a debate in my head about what they had just said and what would be the correct word and correct order of words to choose to reply them. So, funnily in most cases I would talk about something that was already ‘old news’ to everyone else in the room by then. They would stare at me weirdly, their minds trying to make sense of what I had just managed to utter. They had no idea of the difficulty with which I had managed the feat. I could hear questions being asked and then, suddenly the person most in tune with me and my language skills would remember the subject from some minutes ago. 

As months passed and I completed more than one academic year in my French school, I started to notice progress. I would find myself being able to hear the ‘liasIons’ that link the words to each other in the language. I could actually remember difficult words and even form sentences that were different from just the basic ‘I’ and ‘me’ ones.

One day, I reached my in laws’ home where the entire family was gathered. As they all greeted me and everyone settled in, I declared loudly in French, « From today, there will be no more secrets ».

My father in law smiled and said, « Oh, what an intelligent girl she is » !

PS. I encourage everyone to continue to learn languages, it’s such a great way to understand another culture and really integrate into a new society. You understanding them well means there is a chance they understand you well. 

Quote 1

Pic courtesy- me

 No one is allowed to put out my inner flame,
they don't have the key to that place.

The Universe at its play - Change

Picture courtesy B. Libert

 A second chance has come our way,
We want to now savour it well, we say,
These don't come to us a plenty,
Not after the teen years and the decade of twenty.

Gibberish, says the Universe back down to us,
It pushes over several changes that we have to now rush,
that strip us and hurt us down to our core,
And here you were thinking, your life is a bore.

Take this, take that,
the Universe laughs in its play.
You thought you would sleep easy,
See what's coming your way.

You need to reinvent and accept what comes,
or else be hurting because your vision is blunt.
Rigidity and change make for such a bad marriage,
Each walking towards the two ends of the carriage.Then with all this strife, a second chance, this is, you say?
Where is the joy, when I feel such utter dismay?The Universe says calmly,
Don't be a fool
Look at the route you're taking,
You're breaking every rule.Your roads are now clear of patterns to follow,
Your life is becoming more deep than hollow
Just look at what you have already achieved,

Remember that in you, my friend, I always believe.

Emotional Banter - 1

Picture courtesy- me

 Anger should be treated like a meal. Hot or cold, one should chew on it, taste and swallow it, sit on it , experience it and take the time to digest it.

Then comes the most important part, eliminate it. The lessons learnt while experiencing it can be absorbed for our benefit

Safe, under her wings

Bulbul, resting on a hot summer day.
Pic courtesy- B. Libert 

Ragini was so happy these days. It was the summer vacations and she was out the whole day playing with her building friends. They played outside as it was always hot and dry and the building people allowed them to use the entire premises. Outside, children could play together as bigger groups. Their building was not very big, with just eighteen apartments. Each floor had a landing that was like a square which was central to four homes. Back then, buildings were only four stories high. There were no elevators in residential buildings in their suburbs. Elevators were only seen in the office buildings in the town area or the residential towers of the wealthy who could afford to live there.

Their building didn’t have a huge compound as a lot of place was dedicated to a flower garden. Sometimes Ragini liked to go to the neighbouring building. She had another set of friends there. Two months of summer vacations meant that the choices of whom to play with were never ending. Usually, she knew when her mother expected her at home for lunch. She didn’t like upsetting her mother as things were very well organized at home and not turning up for lunch on time meant that her brother could eat up all the good bits that were served.

This day, she had decided to go to play with her friend Anita in the building next to hers. Anita didn’t usually come to Ragini’s building as she was Anita’s mother didn’t allow it. Ragini’s mother was a bit more lenient when it came to things. So, excited about her upcoming morning, Ragini finished her breakfast and left her home which was on the second floor. As she was running down the stairs, her downstair’s neighbour, Seema, who was also her friend, asked her where she was going. Seema was disappointed hearing that Ragini didn’t have time to play with her.

As she continued descending , Ragini noticed that Seema was tagging along . Yes, her own good sense told Ragini to go and inform Seema’s mother. But, by then Ragini had no more patience. She was just too excited about playing with a new person as she was bored after the weeks of playing with her usual friends.Ragini and Seema reached Anita’s building and played gloriously for a couple of hours. In fact, all three of them were so engrossed that they didn’t hear anyone calling out for them. They didn’t know that Seema’s mother had been frantically trying to find her. When they came back to their own building, Seema and Ragini were accosted by a group of their friends. One of the kids in that group, Harish, seemed to be acting like Seema’s disappearance was personal. He probably felt like the chief of the search party who had finally found the missing person and the culprit who had created the chaos. Before Ragini knew what was happening, Harish punched her hard in the stomach. She was in pain of the kind that she had never ever known. She found herself on the ground, mouth open, but silenced by the pain, tears rolling down her cheeks.Most of the group ran away after they saw what had happened and Harish was nowhere to be seen when Seema helped Ragini up. The two girls climbed the stairs slowly. On the first floor, Seema’s mother was so relieved to see her, she didn’t notice Ragini. Ragini continued upwards towards her own home. When she entered her house, her mother noticed that there was something wrong. Ragini’s mother was not a very fit woman as she had had health issues all her life. She asked Ragini to tell her what had happened. After which, Ragini’s mother helped her to clean up and thoroughly examined her daughter’s stomach region. As lunch was served, they ate together and shortly after, Ragini fell asleep. It was around one o’clock in the afternoon and Ragini slept for more than two hours.When she woke up, she was delighted to see that her mother had a treat for her. A small slice of cake and a glass of milk. The troubles of the morning seemed far away. Ragini was eager to go see her friends again and get back to playing. She knew she would ultimately see Harish again that evening and was apprehensive. However, happily, he was nowhere to be seen. Seema came down to play after some time. That’s when Ragini heard Seema say to the group that she had seen Ragini’s mother walking towards Harish’s house with a cane in her hand. Seema had followed at a safe distance, but, close enough to see Ragini’s mother ring Harish’s door bell. The family inside seemed startled to see Mrs. Mehta stand there and wave her cane at Harish. “Stay away from Ragini”, is what she had heard from a distance.Ragini felt so proud and safe at that instant.

#Heartwarming Mother's Love 

Learning to be a Woman Incidents 2- #metoo

 

 For a thirteen year old, I was a big girl. Anyone on the street could think I was a young adult, only realizing that I was a kid if they stared at my child-like face. Growing up with my much older siblings had given me a certain maturity that got accentuated with my woman’s body. I started to experience funny mix ups, where people looked at me and thought I was the elder daughter of the family. Of course, this didn’t make me happy, but, that was how things rolled when one was my size as a teenager. On the other hand, it was great to be the tallest in the class. It was fun to catch up quickly with the older children around.

During those teenage  years of mine, my sister ran a business in data collection. She used to assign small tasks to me so that I could make some pocket money. It was great to be able to afford some small things and save up for some treats. One of those times, my sister asked me to run a small errand for her. Normally, going and picking up something from an office didn’t intimidate me, but this time she wanted me to travel outside my area to do so. She really didn’t have any other solution. 

Doing her errand meant that I would need to travel by bus to the station, catch a train to the suburb five stations away, then take another bus, visit the office, do my work and make my way back. She convinced me that she thought it would be a good learning experience for me. All I needed to do was to be careful to enter the ladies compartment of the train and then get off at the right station. I knew our train station well enough and knew where to go to buy my return ticket. 

The difficulty of travelling in Mumbai is that the buses are always packed. The train stations and roads around them are mostly bustling with vendors moving around with their wares, people waking in all directions and traffic engorging the streets. So navigating all these obstacles was my first mission. When I finally reached the railway station, I somehow managed to get my ticket, ask where the train going to Andheri was expected to arrive and make it to the railway platform. 

Luckily, the train was quite empty and I reached Andheri without any difficulty. I had to now figure out where the bus stop was situated to my destination address. Once I had that information, I found myself on the bus seated near a window. In a few minutes, I had someone sit next to me. I was busy looking outside the window, so proud of myself that I was just busy reveling in that. Needless to say that the arm moving and trying to touch my breast was quite a startle. I was trying to figure out what was happening, why this man who was wearing such a nice shirt and tie was touching me. First, I tried to move even further near the window. But I realized that this was not going to change anything because he moved in closer to me. 

I was hit with a truckload of  feelings of anger, shame, helplessness and incomprehension. I didn’t know what would happen if I said anything or if I screamed. I had grown up with two elder brothers and an elder sister. My mother was a very strong willed woman too. I knew that they would be upset if I didn’t speak up. All the same, I tried to project if the situation would get out of hand and if I would have to physically hit this person. I just felt the bile rise in my throat more and more. This man couldn’t do this to me. I would feel horrible if I went home feeling violated and having not done anything to stop it. I remembered an incident where my sister had been groped on the street in front of me and she ran after the man screaming and hitting. She had done that to give me strength for right now. 

I still don’t know where the voice of this mature woman came out from me and I said, “Move your arm!” loudly. There was a sudden shock in the energy I felt just before and the man seemed to take away his arm and still stare ahead. This time around, I turned my face towards him, forcing him to look at me. I stared him in the eyes and said with a  very angry and severe tone, “Keep your hands away from me”. I said it again in Hindi and made sure to get an eye contact from anyone in the bus who was looking forwards me. The man’s demeanor changed completely and he slid to the outer corner of the seat. He stayed there till I had to get off the bus. Ferociously on the outside and weak and trembling in the inside, I ordered him to move out of my way so that I could get to the passage way. I kept looking at him with disgust till I got off the bus. He didn’t look up at all. 

I got off the bus, a changed human being. I was now learning that this would also be something I had to learn to deal with. I was growing up fast.#metoo

This is an empowering #metoo story of survival and strength 

Learning to be a Woman - Incidents 1

Black kite, soaring high 

Growing up, I went to a convent school. One of the most prestigious girl’s schools in our area or even our city. I had been lucky to get a slot in this school. In India, in the seventies, the government allowed lower school fees for families who had only two children. If the child was a girl, there were schemes for free or heavily subsidized education. However,  as a fourth child of the family, my father had to pay full fees for me.

Another part of growing up in India, means that any child going to school wears a uniform. This has a socio-economic and anti-elitist benefit as many children who are poor would stand out amongst the rich or the middle-class students like a sore thumb. It promotes equal opportunities for children amongst all strata in our society.

Now, in our school, we had two types of uniforms, one which was a regular school day uniform, a blue pinafore or a blouse and skirt. The other uniform was a white outfit with a blouse and knee-length wide-leg pants or something which looked like a skirt from far. We were to wear the white outfits on days when we had sports classes. So, that was a couple of times a week. 

On one such sports day, a twelve-year old me had reached school quite nervous. I had just started menstruating the week before.  It was difficult learning to wear the sanitary pad and hard  work trying to know what my body cycles were like. How much time was I to wear one pad  before it got full and needed to be changed, when did I need to go check if it needed changing or how to move and walk optimally in order to avoid any accidents were several questions on my mind from the moment I got my periods.

Unfortunately, what happened next in a crowded class of around sixty-five girls was not a memory easy to efface from my mind. I was sitting right in the middle of the class in that white uniform when the teacher asked a question. I lifted my hand to answer and as I stood up, I heard a collective mix of ‘ohs’ and ‘eehs’ and ‘Gods’. I realized with unease, immediately, that my skirt was soiled. One of my classmates looked at me and as it was the end of that period, she went up to the teacher and whispered something to her. I was beckoned to the front and felt all eyes on me and on the back of my body. I knew then that it was not just a small stain. I remember thinking even in that panic mode, how ironic and stupid it was to have a white uniform for sports in a school full of girls. Girls who like me would be squirming, if, they did manage to stain their clothes with  blood. 

I remember walking through all the corridors and all the by lanes in our big school to reach the Principal’s office. I was treated kindly there. I was asked to follow a nun who handed me a spare pair of the white pants and a plastic bag to take my soiled pair home. I remember feeling afraid, embarrassed and not sure how to pass the rest of my day.

Luckily, all was forgotten by the time I returned to the class. I got back to my good friends, and simply got down to  planning how to finish our homework in time after school to be able to play together around our homes. No one seemed really bothered to look, point, stare or comment on what had just happened. They seemed to have forgotten the incident completely.

The embarrassment stayed for longer with me though.  I went home and told my family the story of what had happened that day. I insisted that my parents buy me the best sanitary pads available in the shops to avoid having to endure something like that at school again. 

It was one of the first times of millions when I realized being a woman was not child’s play.

The Chronicles of the youngest Child - Part 1

Definitely still craving sweet! Chocolate cake after a long flight 

As a child my relation with my older brother was always special. Since I was the last child and he was closest to my age, eight years older than me, I usually spent a lot of time with him. But, like most brothers, he was annoying and loved teasing and harassing me. 

Those days, in the 80’s, in our tiny suburban apartment in Mumbai,  we spent most of our time as a family in the living room since we had our Television there. That TV was our lifeline. It connected us to everything that the world had to offer us in terms of movies, ads, serials, music and cartoons. It was the magic box that gave us exposure to culture and ways of living elsewhere. Through it we had  glimpses of all the other languages present in India and in the world, till then only mentioned in our text books. We hadn’t had the TV in our lives for decades and so it remained a very novel tool for us.

One day, when my brother was around seventeen years old, we were in our living room. We were both fighting as usual. Over something stupid surely, when suddenly, I noticed the ad for a new chocolate playing on the TV.  As usual the idiot box was switched on with no real reason or audience. 

This chocolate was different from the regular Five Star or Dairy Milk chocolates that had been around in our lives till then. The packaging was also very different. It was a bar with a brown wrapper on which stood the sketch of a beautiful black cat with a long twisted tail. Its name was Parry’s. Back then, being a child meant  I never had any money unless I saved it  myself after probably begging my family for some short change here and there. Our parents never spent on any luxuries in the household. So just asking for a chocolate that I had seen on TV would never pass with them. I tried another strategy.

I asked my brother to watch the advertisement the next time it was aired. Then I told him that I was sure it was delicious and that I would do anything to taste it. My plan worked. My brother blurted out, “why don’t you sit in the Lotus pose for thirty minutes without a break?, I will buy it for you if you succeed.” I shrieked, “Do you promise?” and he said, “Yes!”. 

I was elated, however, I knew my brother well enough. If he witnessed that I was trying to do the challenge, he would do everything possible to not allow me to reach the 30 minutes. I could always do it without him around, but he would never believe me and get out of what he had promised. The chocolate cost 4 rupees. Those days, that was a lot of money.

I set my plan in action. I decided to do the challenge on the Sunday evening at the same time as a serial called Quiz Time was aired. My brother was usually always back home by that time and I knew everyone at home would be watching the TV together. 

On the said Sunday, I looked at the clock exactly at 9pm and stated “ It’s 9 o’clock now. Quiz Time will start.” At the same moment, I sat exactly opposite the living room clock. I put myself into the Lotus Pose quickly and covered my legs with my dress. Anyway, we sat on the floor in a cross-legged position several times a day. So no one guessed that I had gone one level up.

My brother and my mother were in the room with me. All of us were majorly concentrated on the show. Or at least, I pretended to be. Sitting there, I started to feel drops of sweat run down my spine. All of the nerves in my legs were begging me to get out of that painful pose. But, I was determined. I knew that it was now or never. At  exactly 9:30, I lifted the hem of my dress and showed my mother and my brother my pose. The look on my brother’s face was priceless. I smiled and said “ I want my chocolate tomorrow”. He was not very happy but he knew he couldn’t get out of the situation.

The next evening, shop aunty opened the shutter after the afternoon siesta break. I was all excited. I ran into the shop with my brother behind me. I pointed at the Cat chocolate that lay under the thick glass-topped drawer. I can still see her hand opening that vent and going through it to get to the chocolate. My brother paid her the money and quickly took it for closer inspection. He said, “ok, so this is the one you want”, I had my biggest smile as I looked up towards him. Alas, before I knew what had happened, he had torn open the wrapper, removed the foil surrounding the bar and bitten off half of the chocolate in one large bite. He then passed the remaining to me, while biting into my prize.

I was livid but I knew it was now pointless to argue with him. I took the chocolate quickly and gratefully ate one small piece, pushing against my tears. He had walked away and I was now already busy planning how to keep the rest of the bar from melting. My goal was to eat it over the next two days, piece by piece. I also had to hide it from everyone at home. Now, I had a new challenge to overcome.

How to get through a Divorce like a PRO!

Let’s admit it, no one prepares us for getting divorced. Relationships are the hardest when something that bonds two people and in some cases families can be finished easily. Often, these bonds took years to construct

View from barracks in a fort, Malta. The two colours of the water and the separation represents my theme

and get broken within months or even weeks. Whether we reach the marriage route by meeting someone organically or through an ‘arranged marriage’ setting, getting separated and divorced continues to be difficult especially when there is a child or some children involved. Overcoming the interim duration from when the decision to end the marriage was made and the moment when the divorce is actually granted can be a real test.Here are some suggestions that may help:

Focus on yourself

·         Now is the moment for you to really center yourself and make yourself the priority. In many cases, relationships can sidetrack the development of the individual because more focus is given to the partnership and the family. Maybe start the day by exercising or going out for a walk. Meditate, listen to affirmations, journal or read.

·         Do something you always loved to, but never had the time to do. Yes, you think it’s impossible to take time to learn something while all this is happening. Perhaps it’s too difficult to invest in a hobby that was cast aside years ago. But, at least make a note of what interests you and spend some time a day, even few minutes either doing it or imagining yourself doing it in the future. Zumba or salsa dancing, anyone?

·         Reach out to people who make you feel good. You don’t have to share anything with them yet, just because you have news. Being in the company of people who enhance your mood or who make you laugh is one of the best ways to sooth your soul during these hard times.

·         Make a list of your short-term and long-term goals concerning this divorce with regards to yourself, your children and your soon to be ex. Yes, whether you like it or not, when you share children with someone, you do have a relationship with them even after divorce. This could go on till your kids are adults and then some. Your short-term goals may involve how to settle the financial aspects of the  separation, how to navigate your children’s questions, how to adapt to sharing the  children’s custody with your ex. Long- term goals may be where do you see yourself financially in ten years, where would you retire, how do you see yourself living life in your later years etc.

 

Choose your battles carefully

·         Yes, it can be tempting to lash out at your ex at every possible occasion, it may even feel good while you’re at it, but, this behavior is soon going to keep you stuck in an unhealthy loop with your thoughts and actions. You will keep sidetracking your actual physical life (rational and pragmatic head focused solutions) , while turning on the lights towards the emotions and heart related aspects. Sure, if you need to question your ex about his or her intentions or reasons, this should always be evoked in a decent manner. Let’s remember that the fact that the divorce is even evoked is because there is a disconnect between you and the other person. Discussions may help but are hardly going to satisfy both individuals.

·         Try to reign in those emotions and stay at least neutral when it comes to dealings with your ex.

·         Your divorce doesn’t have to be what the world thinks about divorce. You don’t have to tear each other down. We only have a limited amount of time on earth and this individual chose to spend time with you, maybe have a child or children with you. Try and respect this choice that each of you made for your lives until now.

·         Remember that money is important to lead a comfortable life, but no amount of money guarantees happiness and peace. So, even if your ego doesn’t agree easily, let go to some extent and move forward. If need be, involve one mediator or friend who can help give you some perspective in the situation.

 

Stop playing the victim card/ blame game

 

·         You will meet many people in the initial days after you start telling people about the imminent divorce who will love to ask questions, bring down your ex and agree with everything you tell them or accuse your ex of. Remember, these people have their own lives and a few minutes of discussion will never give them the right perspective or the same view that you have in your relationship. Using the victim card will soon get old and all you will get by using it long term is to continue to stay in the ‘current emotional’ state. Whether that be anger, hatred , sadness or a mix of them all.

·         This situation, even though it’s a hard pill to accept right now is a consequence of either circumstances outside of your control or choices made by you. You may need to take accountability about where you stand. Even if it’s a situation out of your control, remove the Blame cape or the ‘why me?’ and start by taking a deep breath, saying, ‘yes, this is happening to me and it sure doesn’t feel good right now, but, I’m going to be fine. I have all that it takes to go through these moments.

·         Each time you get tempted to blame your ex, try to look at the long-term goal of where you see yourself in the future in relation to him or her. Setting the tone with that of anger will create a future of probable discord.

 

Try to change your daily habits to benefit you

·         Break down each day into segments or fractions of hours if it’s really difficult to be able to sanely get through each of them. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other.For example, ‘I feel miserable each morning from not having slept the night before. But, I can focus on making myself that lovely tea that I bought yesterday. I can then take a shower and get the breakfast that my children love’.

·         Try not to involve too many people in the process. More the people involved, more that chances of having your energy drained.

·         Opinions are to be listened to, but  remember you know what is best for yourself.

·         Enjoy the newness of the life you are living or going to live. ‘Enjoy’ may seem like an extreme word in the situation but if you look at life from a distance, all things that were new, exciting or painful stand out in the grand scheme of things. These are what we remember as milestones or turning points in life. Yes, again, it’s maybe not what we wanted but here we are. We may as well notice that yes, we are changing, our life is changing and the path ahead is now completely unknown and new. That unknown life was exciting when we were 18, so it can be just as exciting now.

·          Celebrate every AHA moment on the route. If you thought you would never make it through one night without crying and you wake up on a dry pillow, savor the moment. Maybe journal or call your one trusted friend to share the feeling, pamper yourself with your favorite chocolate that day, get up and dance on the spot, anything!

·         Celebrate the small wins without bitterness. If during a negotiation, you managed to get what you want without a fuss, congratulate yourself , pat yourself on the back or smile in your mind’s eye. Savor everything you can.

 

Children and how to handle them

·         Remember that your children are their own little people. Try feeding something that a baby doesn’t want to eat and you will see that individual who is in that small and fragile body is already formed. Please always try and remember that your role is to help your child develop to their highest potential. It’s to help them get onto the tracks towards their future, where they will travel on their own trains and go ahead to see their own sights and reach their own destinations. In most cases, where parents stay together, it’s just that both parents can witness most of this journey together. They can marvel at their creation together. They can encourage their children together. A divorce need not do anything other than separate the initial track into two. This gives your children more opportunities and more experiences and you less control. It’s hard to let go of the need to control, but come back to the long-term goals that you created and focus on those when this happens.

·         Realize that even if you were still together, you may not be allowed to see the sights and the destinations if the individual who resides inside the body of your child doesn’t want you to come along for the ride. And at some point, nature’s path will throw you off the train slowly but surely. Sometimes peacefully and sometimes with violence.

·         Children have their own stories about their lives. Look around you and you may be surprised to see how children who came from a family where both parents still love and live together may  have negative stories about their upbringing. Accept that your children have their own stories to share, however well you think you participated and gave of yourself. Divorce or not.

·         Your issues, your anger and your sentiments towards your ex are your personal baggage. Don’t use your children to carry this baggage back and forth. Our minds may want us to stay connected with the ex, albeit in a twisted way. Using your children to do this is not the answer. As a parent, you surely wish that your children are complete and thriving adults living their best lives. Resist these short-term satisfactions for your ego and always look at time as a large entity.

·         If you find it possible, tell your children when you are separating that the anger you have for your ex is your own and they are free to love the other parent completely. You are basically giving your child a free pass to open his or her wings and fly calmly into the future.

·         Always try and show respect for your ex, at least in front of your children. This goes for even while the ex is absent. You’re your children’s biggest mirror and teacher when they’re young. They know when disrespect is present between two individuals. Since they will be your link to your ex for a long time to come, keep focused on the future.

 

Disclaimer: The above list is not exhaustive. All thoughts expressed here come from my own lessons learnt during the eight months of my divorce, a decade ago. My children are now adults and capable and happy young women.  I’m grateful to my ex-husband for his support even during those difficult times. He and I both shared the dream of getting through the divorce with our girls as our main priority. Today, we still communicate and help each other and stand together as a family for our girls. This was possible only because our long-term goals aligned.

This may not be your case. So, while you read this article please remember your journey is unique and your situation may seem very difficult and different. Please feel free to only use what can benefit you from my article and ignore the rest. We all learn different lessons during our divorces and my tips are just pointers. May you find strength in my words. All the Best!