Going stir crazy?

Here’s a taste of some of the things that are getting me through quarantine

As I sit down to write this column, I have spent five weeks in quarantine. The first two were down to being exposed to a person who was later diagnosed with Covid-19. The next three were part of the national lockdown we are all part of. And it now looks as if we will spend the next two weeks (at least) as well cooped up in our homes.

I don’t need to tell you that this is not easy. All of you must be coping with your own unique difficulties. Some may be finding it hard to work out of home, while juggling the kids’ online classes and household chores. Those who live alone will be suffering the ill effects of social isolation. And there will be those who will be struggling to get even essential supplies in.

I have written in earlier columns about how I was coping with quarantine and what I was most looking forward to when it was finally lifted. But I think this is the time to tell you what are the little joys that are actually helping me get through this period. And yes, despite all my anxiety and angst, there are many.

Here is just a random sample:

• Cooking: I have always enjoyed pottering around in the kitchen, playing around with ingredients, and coming up with dishes that owe nothing to recipe books. But that was an occasional pleasure. These days, though, I am cooking both lunch and dinner, and I must admit that this task is keeping me sane. Partly, it is that I am forced to innovate, because so many ingredients are simply not available, so that makes me stay engaged. But mostly, I think it is because the instinct to feed those you love (and that includes your own self) is the one thing that keeps us going in difficult times. So, I spend every afternoon and evening in the kitchen, making no more than one dish per meal-time – this is not the time to show off – trying to vary the cuisines as much as possible, and making just a little bit extra to bung into the freezer in case of emergency. 

• Sitting out in my balcony: This was always the one area of the house I never visited. For one thing, it gets the full force of the sun all day and can get unbearably hot. And for another, it is so narrow that it can just about accommodate one chair, with no scope of placing even a stool in front of it. But now that this is my only source of fresh air, I have discovered the virtues of this tiny space. For starters, it has a massive Alstonia tree (what we call Saptaparni in India) growing by its side, which has become home to all the neighbourhood birds. Then, there is the fact that the curry patta tree that my housekeeper has nourished to an amazing size, is flowering and the air in the entire balcony is scented with its amazing perfume. Also, when the sun finally goes down, there is a nice breeze that sets up, blowing away the cobwebs of mind as I sip my of coffee (okay, who am I kidding? A gin and tonic, more likely!), balancing the glass delicately on the ledge.

• Comfort reading: I started quarantine off with the best of intentions. I was going to read every worthy tome that was lining my bookshelves, restricting myself to serious reads now that I had the space and time to concentrate on them. But that didn’t last long. A fortnight in and I was done with expanding my mind; now all I wanted was to comfort my soul. And there is no better way of doing that than revisiting your favourite authors, who have kept you entertained for years. So I dipped into a bit of Agatha Christie, burrowed into a few titles by P.D. James, and am now planning to re-read the entire oeuvre of Elizabeth George. Given that she has written some twenty books in the Inspector Lynley series, that should see me through quarantine.

• Scent: I was never one for spraying perfume on myself every day, even during those halcyon days when we could step out of the house. But now that I am housebound, I find myself reaching for the perfume bottle the moment I am out of the shower and spritzing myself with the pick of the day – usually a soothing floral scent. Somehow, in a way that is hard to explain, smelling good serves as a pick-me-up and makes me feel more equipped to face the day. Similarly, when I am getting into my nightclothes, I spray some lavender eau de toilette on myself. And so far at least, it’s helping me sleep well.  

There’s a lot else, of course. There’s my cross-trainer, which has never got so much attention from me and is not quite sure what to do with it. There are the video calls with my girlfriends as we commiserate with each other on our greying roots and unkempt eyebrows. And then, there’s Insta, where we post our cooking videos so that we can share recipes virtually. 

In fact, a couple of days back I even went ‘live’ on Insta, to give my book recommendations to those who tuned it. And I had so much fun doing it, that it’s going on the list of things that will help me get through this. So, stay tuned. I’m going to pop up on your screens soon, wittering on about something or other. Don’t say you weren’t warned!

Post-Corona life

When things go back to normal – and they will – this is what I will do first

As I sit down to write this column, I have already been housebound for 14 days after having come into contact with someone who was later diagnosed with Covid-19. And just when I was ready to rejoin the world, the Prime Minister announced a three-week, nation-wide lockdown, which means I will now end up being quarantined for five weeks in all.

I shouldn’t complain, though. With a well-stocked kitchen, plenty of books to read, and three streaming services at the ready, I am more prepared than most to ride out a lockdown. Also there’s the fact – as I wrote last time – that as someone who works out of home, I am more used than others to the solitary life. But even so, staying cooped up at home, with just the occasional visit to my teeny-tiny balcony to catch a whiff of fresh air, is beginning to make me stir-crazy. Not to mention, a little bit bonkers – I even caught myself talking to my plants the day before yesterday. (Though psychiatrists say that talking to your plants is fine; it’s when they start talking back to you that you should ask for help.)

That said, I am trying to keep to my normal routine as much as possible. I still get up at my usual time, have breakfast, make sure to shower, dress and even slap on some make-up before I sit down to work on my book. I stride up and down the house in lieu of my usual walk in the park and try to ensure that I get my 10,000 steps in. I mark mid-day by having lunch. I celebrate the end of my workday by having a last cup of coffee. I cook dinner every evening, set the table, and eat a proper dinner with my husband. Sometimes to cheer ourselves up, we even open a nice bottle of wine to accompany our home-cooked meal. 

I try not to disappear down the hole of social media, restricting myself to checking Twitter every couple of hours. I don’t watch TV during the daytime. And I turn off Netflix/Amazon/Hotstar at a reasonable hour at night even if I am not sleepy. I find it’s much better to wind down by reading in bed rather than watching yet another episode of that addictive show. 

But even though life goes on, albeit in an altered form, I find myself acutely missing many things that I took entirely for granted in pre-Coronavirus times. And I can’t wait for this period of quarantine to be over, so that I can go back to doing all the things that mark normality for me. 

Here’s just a small sampler:

• Going for a walk: I wouldn’t have thought that I would miss this quite so much, given that in normal times, I often had to push myself to get my sneakers on and out of the door. But now that that option is no longer available to me, I find myself longing for the spring-flowers laden ambience of Lodi Garden, where the sound of birdsong accompanies me as I walk down the tree-lined pathways. And I am sure that when I am back at my favourite walking spot – even though the weather will have heated up by then – I will appreciate it even more for having experienced its absence.

• Having lunch with my friends: Hanging out with my girlfriends, whether over lunch, a coffee, or even a drink, was something that I always took for granted. In retrospect, though, those girlie lunches or girls nights out were a lifesaver for me – and I suspect, for them as well. It gave us a chance to vent if we were unhappy, to exult if things were going well, and to share if we were troubled about something. Yes, I know we can always use Zoom for a virtual hang-out, but sorry to say, it’s nowhere as nice as the real thing.

• Dropping in on my sister: I don’t get a chance to do that very often at the best of times, but this may mark the longest period that I have not had a chance to see her in person – video chats are all very well, but there is no substitute for in-person contact. So, as soon as this nightmare is over, I am headed over, with a hotpack containing the channa-bhaturas we love so much, for some much needed Didi-time.

• Eating a meal in a restaurant alone: Most people don’t get it, but I actually enjoy going out to eat on my own. Whenever my writing is not going well, I head out to one of my regular haunts, with just a good book for company. I eat a simple meal, flush my mind out completely, and come back to work, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. I can’t wait to do that once more.

• Going to the beach: It’s a funny thing. Until now, whenever I have been on a beachside vacation, I have always ended up complaining about what the humidity does to my hair (you really don’t want to know). And yet, now that travel seems an impossibility, it is the beach that I find myself longing for: the smell of salt water; the smoothness of the sand between my toes; the cooling waves lapping against my feet. Even the wild, frizzy tangle that is my hair at the beachside will be well worth it.

Life in the time of Corona

Some handy tips to deal with the virus (but before that, wash your hands!)

As I sit down to write this column, I have a completely empty diary staring at me, with no upcoming trips or events listed. Just a week ago, my schedule looked very different, with both domestic and international travel scheduled through the month. But as the coronavirus scare got scarier by the day, I cancelled two trips to Mumbai as a measure of abundant caution. And today, as the Indian government banned all non-essential travel by Indians abroad (with the very real risk of quarantine when we get back), I cancelled a trip to Singapore scheduled for the end of March.

And even though I show no symptoms of the disease (so far!) I have decided to self-isolate at home as well. And that’s not just because I don’t want to catch an infection as I go about my normal day. It’s also due to the fact that the last flight I took to Mumbai featured an air-hostess who coughed dramatically throughout the two-hour journey even as she did the meal service (yes, I kid you not!). I quickly donned my mask for the duration of the flight – though the passengers around me did not seem unduly concerned – but there is always the chance that the damage may have already been done.

So, for the past week I have been staying in for the most part, declining events and avoiding crowds. And even though I risk coming off as rude, I have been refusing to shake hands with the smattering of people I do meet, offering a Namaste instead (it came as something of a relief when I saw Prince Charles and President Macron of France doing exactly the same thing).

It helps that as far as self-isolation goes, I have some experience in the matter. For the past several years, I have been working out of home, and often go days without seeing anyone other than my husband and the household help. So unlike others who may be freaked out by the prospect of isolation, I have already made my peace with it. And it is on that basis, that I offer the following tips to cope with being home alone.

• First, set up a routine. When you are just schlepping around at home, the temptation to lounge around all day in your pyjamas, without even having a shower or shave, is hard to resist. But resist it you must. It is crucial to keep up appearances, even if there is no one around to watch. So, make sure that you are bathed and dressed (and by that I don’t mean another pair of pyjamas) as you prepare to face the day. Don’t skip lunch and grab a bag of chips instead. Have a proper meal at midday, even if it is just you sitting at the table. Stop working in the evening, to give yourself some proper downtime. And don’t eat dinner slumped in front of the television. Set the table and eat with proper crockery and cutlery laid out. It is these civilizing touches that make your daily routine; and you must stick with them no matter what.

• Yes, this is the best time to binge on those shows that you haven’t had the time to watch given your hectic schedule. But TV shows – especially those that have an addictive element – have the tendency to take over your life to the exclusion of all else. So, it is imperative that you set limits on yourself. Speaking for myself, I have an iron rule in my household. The TV does not come on before 8 pm. That is the only way I can discipline myself to work during the day. Because once you descend into the pit of daytime TV-viewing, there is no coming back.

• A far better use of your time would be to catch up on all the books you’ve been meaning to read (but have been piling on your bedside table because of lack of time). Now that you are at home with time on your hands and minimal distractions, tackle all the books that require your undivided attention. Choose books with important themes if you are a non-fiction fan. Pick sweeping sagas if you prefer fiction. This is the best time to delve into three or four-part series like Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan quartet, for instance (I promise you will love it).

• Just because you are in isolation does not mean that you have to feel isolated. Use social media to stay in touch with the world (though Instagram is a more feel-good place than Twitter; and Pinterest much more fun than Facebook). Facetime or video call your friends and family rather than just phone; seeing their faces will make for a stronger connection than merely hearing their voices.

• This is the time to indulge your hobbies, or even develop new ones. Dabble with new recipes in the kitchen. Learn how to knit (it’s supposed to help reduce stress, so that’s a bonus). Or maybe spend time researching the destinations you would like to visit when this nightmare is over. I have already shortlisted two that I have never been to – Greece and Croatia – and I am having a tremendous time planning itineraries in my head, while I wait for the real thing to materialize. Let’s hope real life lives up to my imagination. 

And now, if you will excuse me, I am off to wash my hands – yes, again!

Palling around

Making friends as you grow older may be hard; but it’s even harder to keep the ones you do have

I’ve always been skeptical of those who say that it is impossible to make new friends when you hit middle age. You know how the theory goes, right? The best, the most intense, the most valuable relationships are those that are forged when we are children or in our early adulthood. It is these childhood friends or college buddies who become our support structure as we grow older along with each other. This tight-knit group has no secrets from one another; they have seen each member at his or her absolute best and horrific worst; they share memories and secrets; they have witnessed the seminal moments of each others life; and the bonds thus created are unbreakable. You could never replicate that kind of friendship with someone you meet when you are fully formed.

Well, that’s the argument, anyway. And I must confess that it’s not one I necessarily agree with. As someone who moved town because of my career and lost touch with most of her childhood friends (who are now scattered all over the globe) I could not have negotiated life without the friends I made in my thirties and forties. 

These friendships are arguably even better than the ones I had forged in my youth and teenage years. For one thing, they are not based simply on proximity, on the coincidence of attending the same class or living in the same neighhourhood. These are people that I actively sought out and befriended because I felt I had some sort of special rapport with them. And more importantly, these relationships were formed when I had a better idea of who I was and what I wanted in a friend – and at a time when I had zero compunction about walking away from people who simply weren’t doing it for me. So, these are the friends not just of my heart but my mind as well. 

But as I grow older, it is not the thought of making new friends that preoccupies me; it is the dread of losing any of the friendships that I have spent so many years cherishing and preserving. And yet, as life gets more and more frenetic, as our familial obligations increase, it is an inescapable fact that we have less and less time for friends. 

We all know that relationships are more like houseplants than trees. While trees do well even if they are neglected and left to their own devices, houseplants have a most disobliging way of dying on us if they are not nourished and looked after. So, how does one keep a friendship going, so that it lasts us a lifetime?

Well, here are just a few tips, based entirely on my own experience:

• Stay in touch: And by that I don’t mean that you should share the occasional joke on Whatsapp or like each other’s pictures on Facebook or Instagram. By ‘stay in touch’ I mean that you should be present in one another’s life. If your friend gets promoted, buy her lunch to celebrate. If she loses a parent, don’t think your duty is done if you attend the funeral; call her every day for a little chat just to check that she’s okay. If she is depressed, don’t just send her motivational quotes; show up at her house with a box of chocolates and spend time raising her spirits. 

• Don’t let feelings fester: If you are feeling neglected by a friend, if she hasn’t been in touch for a while, don’t respond by deploying the silent treatment. If you value that friendship, take the initiative to change things for the better. Pick up the phone and speak to her. Be honest and admit that you miss her presence in your life. Ask her for the reasons behind her absence. If she is upset about something you have done, address the issue head-on. Similarly, if you are upset with a friend about something, don’t just sulk in silence and assume that she will pick up on your unhappiness. Express your displeasure clearly and firmly; only then can you move beyond it. If yours is a true friendship, it will survive this honesty stress; if it doesn’t, well then it wasn’t much of a friendship at all.

• Do fun things together: If you only turn to your friends when you are in a funk and need cheering up, or you are in a spot of trouble and could do with some help, it won’t be long before they start dreading your call or email. So, it’s important to ensure that you guys have some fun times together as well to remember why you became friends in the same place. Meet for a few drinks in the evening, maybe go for a walk on a weekend morning, or just share a meal together to catch up on the minutiae of each other’s life. 

• Make an effort: You do that in your romantic relationships, don’t you? (At least, I hope you do!). You put a lot of thought into buying a birthday present. You send flowers on significant anniversaries. You plan surprise parties on special occasions. Well, a friendship doesn’t deserve any less effort just because it a platonic rather than a romantic relationship. So, do your best by your friends, and more often than not, they will do even better by you.

The bell tolls for thee...

Given the fragility of life, it makes sense to make the most of every moment granted to us

Even though I never knew Wendell Rodricks particularly well – I only ever met him on a couple of occasions – I was still shattered to hear of his passing. For one thing he was only 59, an absurdly young age to die. And then there was the fact that news of his demise came out of the blue, administering a shock to all those who knew him – or even just knew of him. But more than that, his death also came as a reminder of the fragility of human life. We may be alive and well, feverishly planning our future one minute; and gone to the great beyond the next, with all our plans left undone. 

The truth that we rarely have the courage to face up to is that our lives may end at any moment. There is no guarantee of getting up in the morning when we go to sleep at night. But even though from time to time we all employ the cliché of ‘living as if every moment would be our last’ we don’t always practice what we preach. 

But Wendell’s passing got me thinking. If I knew that I had only a finite amount of time left on earth, what would I do with it? Well, here’s what I came up with:

• Forgive and forget: All of us carry around grievances – justified or not – against some people in our lives. And very few of us can see a way to get beyond them. So, the bitterness festers and destroys relationships. Anger seeps deep within us and becomes our default emotion. And soon we are so locked into our positions that we can’t break out of them. Well, I’m going to let these intimations of mortality push me into making an effort to break those patterns and find a way to get past my anger and resentment. I’m going to try and forgive those have sinned against me; and ask for forgiveness from those I have sinned against. Forgetting is a bit harder than forgiving, but I am going to make that effort nonetheless. 

• Open lines of communication: With the pace of modern life overwhelming us all, we have lost the fine art of conversation. Rarely if ever do we ever chat about the things that matter with the people we love and cherish. We would much rather Whatsapp than have a phone conversation. We eat our dinner in front of the television watching a Netflix show rather than at the table where we can speak to each other. And even when we do talk, it is about mundane things like what to make for lunch or who will pay the electricity bill instead of meaningful things that could bring us closer to one another. That’s one thing I am determined to change. Communication is the key to healthy relationships – and to a happier life. And those two goals are going to be my primary motivation now.

• Tell the people you love that you love them: Whenever there is an outpouring of love for a recently-deceased person on social media, I can’t help but wonder how many of those paying tribute ever said all these lovely things to the person when he or she was alive. My guess is that very few – if any – did. So, my resolution from now on is to tell the people I love – family, friends, colleagues – that I love them when they are still around to appreciate the sentiment. And I am going to do that not just by words (though a well-timed “I love you” never goes unappreciated) but by deed as well. That means making time for them, taking an interest in their lives, even buying them the odd, unexpected gift – anything that shows that they matter to me.

• Start a gratitude journal: Yes, I know, it sounds like the kind of thing that Gwyneth Paltrow would recommend on her website, Goop. But sometimes even Paltrow gets it right. And even though I was initially skeptical about the idea, I have started penning down one thing I am grateful for every day. And I have found that it concentrates the mind remarkably, forcing me to focus on the positive rather than dwell on the negative. And that’s not a bad way to negotiate life when you think about it. 

• Stop procrastinating: I am a past master at this. I sit down to write my book (a sequel to Race Course Road; coming soon, I promise!) and go down the rabbit hole of Twitter instead. I settle down with a book that I have been longing to read and get distracted by the news about the Delhi election. When I should be thinking of my column, I go into some sort of displacement activity like cleaning out my closet. All that comes to an end now. I am going to focus on the things that matter, stop wasting time to social media or mindless TV-watching. 

And yes, I am going to live my life as if every moment might be the last. And maybe, just maybe, you might want to do that too.

Past perfect

There comes a time in life when looking back is as much of a joy as looking forward

The older I grow the more I find that nostalgia is the governing emotion of my life. This was brought home to me even more strongly last week when I went back to Jaipur’s Rambagh Palace for a brief visit. The moment I walked through the sofa-lined verandah that runs in front of what used to be the Jaipur royal state room (and is now rather prosaicly, a restaurant), I was transported back to my first visit to this iconic property.

I was a young rookie reporter, barely out of college, and had been assigned to cover the General Elections by following the erstwhile royals on the campaign trail. We (I was accompanied by the magazine’s photographer) were in Jaipur to cover the former Maharaja, Captain Bhawani Singh’s, campaign and stopped by at the Rambagh for a quick coffee. 

Imagine our excitement when we saw, in the verandah where I now stood some three decades later, Rajmata Gayatri Devi, resplendent in chiffon and pearls, talking to a friend. We immediately sidled up to her, waited respectfully for her conversation to end, and then asked if we could speak to her.

Much to our surprise, she ignored us completely, refusing to even acknowledge the question. Both of us were crestfallen but couldn’t quite understand why we had been snubbed so comprehensively. It was only later when we shared the story with the hotel manager did we realize what we, in our naivete, had done wrong. Instead of addressing her as ‘Rajmata Saheb’ as was customary, we had referred to her as ‘Mrs Singh’ (on the grounds that she was stepmother to ‘Captain Singh’; what can I say, we were young and callow). Of course, such lese-majeste had to be punished. 

Later, as I gazed at a beautiful portrait of Gayatri Devi in her younger days that was hung in pride of place in my room, I was transported back to my youth as well. Suddenly, all those memories of driving through dry, dusty Rajasthan in a clapped-out Ambassador with no air-conditioning as we tried to keep up with the likes of the Maharaja of Jaipur and Maharana of Udaipur came flooding back. I remembered going days without drinking water because I knew that there would be no decent loos on our route. I remembered the dodgy hotel rooms we stayed in, a far cry from my salubrious surroundings of today. But mostly, I remembered the energy and enthusiasm of my younger self, and the self-belief that I would give anything to possess today in my advancing years.

I had much the same experience when I visited Kolkata a few years ago – though, I have to confess that it will always be Calcutta to me. This is the city where I was born and raised, where I went to school and college, and got my first job. No surprises then that every street sparked a memory, every building evoked emotions, and even a walk in a park triggered a strong dose of nostalgia.

But it was a visit to my old college that really transported me back in time. I was walking through Park Street with my husband, marveling at how many things had changed while others remained just the same, when I came to the turn that led to my old alma mater, Loreto House. On a sudden impulse I walked to that familiar green gate and asked the doorman if, as an old student, I could have a little walkthrough. He agreed, and we walked into that driveway that I had traversed every day to go to class. 

We walked into reception and then into the hall in which we had held assembly on special occasions, where I sat for so many exams. I walked on to the stage on which I had participated in innumerable debates and plays – one of them written and performed by my English Honours class. It was on this stage where, at the end of my college career, I had been awarded the gold medal for most outstanding student of the year. And – pardon the boastfulness – did I mention that my name was immortalized in shiny gold paint on a board outside, along with all the other winners? 

But while places have their own role in jogging my memory, it is meeting people that brings on the strongest bouts of nostalgia. Meeting my childhood best friend in Cal, and remembering the first day we went to school, clutching nervously on to each other, as we navigated this new, mysterious world. Running into an old teacher, who didn’t just remember my name and face, but also an essay I wrote for her, which I have long forgotten. Going to the restaurant that was the haunt of us newspaper types as we worked late into the night and being greeted by the same waiter.

The memories come rushing back thick and fast no matter where I am or what I am doing. A visit to my sister results in us taking out old photo albums and reminiscing about our younger years. Meeting old colleagues means another trip down memory lane. And stumbling upon an old article of mine among the few clippings I have preserved transports me to an entirely different time and place.

My conversations these days are peppered with “Do you remember when” or “Remember that time”. I guess that is a good indication that I am finally at a place in my life when looking back is as pleasurable – sometimes even more so – than looking forward. Or, more bluntly, I am just getting old!

Brand New Year...

…Means a brand new you – but just wait till February rolls around 

I think the biggest mistake that people make when it comes to New Year Resolutions is that they try to implement them the day the new year begins. New Year, New Me, goes the cry in households across the country as people pledge to inaugurate their brand-new selves. This usually involves a regimen of denial, given special impetus by the excesses they indulged in to celebrate the holiday season. 

It’s going to be a dry January, is the first declaration of intent. The second usually involves a diet fad of some kind: giving up carbs; intermittent fasting; going on a juice cleanse; or maybe just eating papaya for a month. Then comes the biggie: the promise to undertake a fitness regime that will leave them leaner, fitter, healthier, and much more flexible. This could entail anything from daily walks to taking up tennis to practicing Pilates to signing up for yoga.

So barely have they recovered from the mother of all hangovers on New Year’s Day than these deluded folks are trying to diet and exercise their guilt about gluttony away. Well guess what, it’s a venture doomed to failure.

The truth is that January is the worst month to initiate these kinds of lifestyle changes. For one thing your body and mind are busy trying to adjust to coming back to work full-time after some time off. So, it’s not a good idea to subject them to the extra effort that a new diet and exercise regimen entails. Far better to indulge in some comfort snacking and the odd glass of wine to come to terms with your new reality. 

This is when you need to wean yourself off gently from the bad habits of the last year. So use January to do just that, allowing your mind and body to ease into the new year with minimum trauma. Taper off the alcohol but don’t turn the tap off completely. Eat healthy as far as possible but allow yourself a slice of the leftover Christmas cake when the urge overcomes you. Cut down on calories gradually by all means, but don’t tip over into exclusionary-diet territory just yet.

That kind of punishing regimen is what February is for.

By the time the second month of the new year rolls around, the memories of those food and alcohol binges that marked your year-end celebrations will have faded somewhat. More crucially, the weather will also have warmed up a tad, so the thought of having another muffin with your cappuccino will not be quite so tempting. And as the stronger sunshine warms up your days, it will become easier to drag yourself out of bed to go jogging around the block or hitting the gym.

So, if you know what’s good for you, press the delay button on your New Year-New Me scheme until you’ve said goodbye to January. Then, when the first day of February dawns, you can get started on improving yourself. 

And here, to help you along, are just some of the things that you can do towards making yourself over in 2020:

• What you eat, how you eat, and when you eat, all of these things make a huge difference to how you feel. So, make this the year of mindful eating. That means focusing on what you are putting in your mouth at breakfast, lunch and dinner. And by that I don’t mean just eating smaller portions and healthier foods, though that is essential too. What I recommend is paying attention to your food while you eat it. Don’t scroll through newspapers when you are eating breakfast; don’t eat lunch at your desk at work while staring at your computer; and don’t have dinner staring at the telly. That kind of mindless eating always results in over-consumption of calories. Instead, sit down at the dining table to have all your meals, taste your food, appreciate it, and give thanks for it. You will end up eating less, and enjoying it a lot more.

• When it comes to exercise, don’t set yourself too ambitious a target. That way, you won’t feel disheartened when you fail to meet it. Instead, set yourself incremental goals, so that you can go from one level to another when you are good and ready. For instance, start by incorporating a ten-minute jog in your daily walk and then increase it as your fitness improves. If you can’t take an hour out at any one time during the day, break up your fitness routine into three 20-minute bits that you slot whenever you have the time. 


• But whatever you do, pay as much attention to your mind as you do to your body this year. Spend at least ten minutes first thing in the morning and last thing at night in silence, flushing your mind clear of all the detritus that clogs it. Rediscover the lost art of concentrating on one single thing, instead of being distracted by all the stuff unfolding around us. (That means no replying to emails when you are having dinner with the family; no scrolling through Twitter when you are reading a book; and most certainly no surfing the Internet when you are allegedly working.) 

And while you’re at it, be mindful of other people as well instead of just being focused on yourself. You will have a better and fuller life as a consequence. And that’s the best New Year gift you can give yourself.

Looking back

The lessons the last decade taught me

There is something about the beginning of a new decade that carries with it the promise of a fresh start. We wake up in the new year thinking about how the following ten years will be – must be, surely! – better and brighter than the decade that just rolled by.

But strangely enough, as I write this on the first day of the New Year and a fresh decade, I find myself looking back on the ten years that went by in a flash, and thinking about all the lessons they taught me. Here, in no particular order of importance, are some of them.

Nothing lasts forever

That applies to the highs and lows; to the good days and the bad days; to victories and defeats. No matter how dire things look sometimes, there will always be something better around the corner. Getting there may take a while (or at least seem like it) but in time you will negotiate that turn and get to the good stuff. Make the most of it while you’re at it – because it won’t last forever either. The ups will be followed by the downs, and vice versa; and the only way to cope is to treat them both with equanimity.
  
Patience is not always a virtue

Life is too short…and there’s nothing quite like hitting middle age to get that message loud and clear. This is when you realize that there is no benefit in sticking it out with life situations that leave you feeling both sad and mad in the hope that things may get better. Far better to just cut your losses and run. I have taken that lesson to heart this decade and I apply it ruthlessly in all aspects of my life. I don’t bother to finish books that leave me cold. I don’t socialize with people who infect me with negativity or make me feel bad about myself. And I certainly don’t engage with trolls on social media; I just block them and move on. 

The ability to say no is a superpower 

As an inveterate people-pleaser, I have always had a problem with saying the word ‘no’. It seems so disobliging, so uncivilized even, I always thought. So, because of my propensity to say ‘yes’ to everything and everybody, I always ended up stuck with tasks, projects, parties, friendships, that I would much rather have eschewed. But this decade, I made it my resolution to say ‘no’ whenever I feel like that is the only good response. And that decision transformed my life. I no longer went to parties where I would spend the evening bored out of my skull. I no longer agreed to write pieces if my heart wasn’t truly into them. I no longer agreed to do favours for people simply because it was the path of least resistance. I won’t lie; it was tough at first. But once I got into the spirit of things, it was truly liberating.

Working in small increments gets the job done

I had been toying with the idea of writing a thriller based on the world of Indian politics ever since the beginning of the last decade. But when I finally signed a contract, promising to deliver a 1,00,000 words manuscript in a year’s time, I went straight back home for a lie-down. I wasn’t sure how I was going to achieve this in the time period involved. But after I stopped hyperventilating, I decided to do some quick back-of-the envelope calculations. I needed to write 20 chapters in 12 months; each chapter would be between 4,000 to 5,000 words; so even if I wrote 700 words a day I could meet my deadline, and get a few days off as well. Well, that’s just what I did, concentrating on my daily deadline and not thinking too far ahead into the future. And sure enough, by the end of 12 months, my first political thriller, Race Course Road, was ready for publication (though I had overshot the mark by writing around 1,25,000 words!) I am currently applying the same principles to the sequel I am working on – will keep you posted on how that goes.

Friends come in all shapes and sizes – and at all ages

I had always believed that the friends you made in your childhood and youth were the ones that lasted. And that the older you grew, the harder it became to make new connections, let alone new friends. The last decade proved me wrong in this respect. Yes, I still cherish the friends of my growing-up years, but I have also managed to forge relationships in my middle age with an array of people, none of whom seem to have anything in common (except for me). There are my neighbourhood friends, with whom I discuss the affairs of our colony on our Whatsapp group. There are my Lodi Garden friends, with whom I stop by to exchange fitness tips and a few choice morsels of gossip once we have completed our daily rounds. There are the friends I made on my travels around the world, the people with whom I struck an instant rapport that survives the fact that we can only really keep in touch virtually. And then there my Twitter pals, some of whom have made the transition to IRL (In Real Life) friendship, where we meet offline and have a laugh over the vagaries of the online world.  

There are, of course, plenty of other lessons that the 2010s taught me. And I intend to put them to full use as I negotiate the 2020s. And with that, let me wish you a Happy New Year and a Brilliant New Decade.

Page-turners

Here’s a list of the best books I read this year; you might enjoy some of them

So, it’s that time of year again. The time when I look back on the last 12 months through the prism of my reading list and compile my own list of Top Reads of The Year for you. Needless to say, this list is completely arbitrary, totally subjective, and entirely a creature of my personal preferences when it comes to authors and genres. That said, I am a pretty promiscuous reader, so am pretty sure there will something in there for everyone. Read on – and then, read on again. 

The New Girl
Daniel Silva

Regular readers of this column will know just how big a fan of Daniel Silva I am. And I am happy to report that after a couple of formulaic turns, Silva is back on cracking form. The Other Woman, which came out last year, was a rollercoaster ride in the best sense. And this year’s offering, The New Girl, is even better. Written with one eye on cable news and with a main character clearly based on the Saudi Prince Mohammad Bin Salman – who enters into an unlikely alliance with Israeli avenging angel, Gabriel Allon – this thriller will keep you up at night, turning page after page until you come to that very unexpected end. Sorry, no spoilers. You’re going to have to find out for yourself. 

After The End
Clare Mackintosh

This is a bit of a departure for Mackintosh, who usually excels in murder mysteries and psychological dramas with a twist that no one ever sees coming. This tells the story of a couple with a terminally sick child, who can’t come to an agreement on how his medical treatment should go. Even though they love and respect one another, they can’t see each other’s point of view in this case. And as their relationship unravels under the strain, we are forced to ask ourselves some fundamental questions about the human condition. What is love? And how far will you – and should you – go to keep someone you love alive?

Fleishman Is In Trouble
Taffy Brodesser-Akner

Divorce, dating, depression, this has it all. The Fleishman of the title is in the throes of a divorce battle with his high-flying wife, who appears to have abandoned him (and their children) to go off on some sort of retreat. As he deals with being dumped, he seeks solace in Internet dating sites and is astounded by just how much sex is on offer – and how many women are willing to have sex with him. But, of course, sex is never simple, and love is always complicated. And oh yes, it is far from clear which of the two Fleishmans is the one in trouble. 

Three Women
Lisa Taddeo

This non-fiction book delves into the intricacies of female sexual desire by following the stories of three women. Lina, a homemaker and mother of two, whose marriage has become a passion-free zone, seeks solace in an affair; Maggie, a 17 year old high school student who allegedly had an affair with her married English teacher; amd Sloane, a restaurant owner married to a man who likes to watch her have sex with other people (both men and women). But this is far from a salacious – or even erotic – read. Taddeo spent eight years covering the lives of these women. And she tells their stories with empathy, nuance, and a deep understanding of the impulses that govern them. 

A Beginner’s Guide to Japan: Observations and Provocations
Pico Iyer

Japan remains one of the most mysterious civilizations on earth. My lasting memory of the country on the one trip I made there is of a culture that was sophisticated, mired in good manners, and yes essentially opaque to the rest of us. Pico Iyer, who has lived there for decades (he famously wrote The Lady And The Monk about falling in love with a Japanese woman – whom he later married), has a better understanding of it than most people. And his new book, aptly titled A Beginner’s Guide, is brilliant because it captures the contradictions of Japanese society without trying to make sense of them. Written as a series of short vignettes, it is both profound and affecting.


Inside Out: A Memoir
Demi Moore

I am usually not one for celebrity autobiographies – which tend to be self-serving and self-involved in equal measure – so I almost didn’t read Demi’s Moore’s account of her life. I mean, who needs to know more details about her break-ups with Bruce Willis and Ashton Kutcher than have already appeared in the gossip magazines? Certainly not me. But I overcame my reservations and started reading – and was hooked. This is an (often brutally) honest memoir by a woman who has often been dismissed as being hard and grasping (‘Gimme Moore’ she was dubbed at one point). But the recounting of her hardscrabble, dysfunctional childhood makes us understand her motivations, and Demi herself, a little better.

Me
Elton John 

Yes, I know I said I didn’t really do autobiographies – and here I am, recommending two. But what can I say? It’s been that kind of year. And Elton John’s memoir of his life is gloriously candid and self-deprecating, in a way that celebrity autobiographies rarely are. It is all in here: the drunkenness, the drug-taking, the tantrums, the libel suits, the heartbreaks, and of course, the hit-making. Even if you have no interest in his music, this is worth a read.

Switch off

Is it time to disconnect from a hyper-connected world?

It was a Whatsapp message from my nephew that first alerted me to the fact that something was up. “Hello, I’m not going to be using a phone any more,” he announced cheerily to all his contacts. “If you’d like to get in touch, I’d be delighted to hear from you on email.” It’s now been a few weeks since that announcement and Arjun maintains that he’s never been more at peace than since he gave up on his phone. There are no incessant calls and messages, both personal and professional, no constant notifications from social media platforms; instead there is blessed quiet in which he can hear himself think.

I would have dismissed this as just my nephew being his usual eccentric self – he did, after all, give up on being a successful lawyer to train in drama therapy – if I hadn’t meet many other millennials since then who also seem to be disenchanted by phones and what they are doing to their lives.

One of them confessed that she felt so stressed at the thought of having to take work calls at all hours of the day that just the ring of her phone was enough to trigger an anxiety attack. Another had deleted all social media apps like Twitter and Facebook from his phone, using them only when he accessed his laptop, and felt much more productive as a consequence. And then, there was the one who was so concerned by his ‘screen time’ reports (did he really spend 2.3 hours on Instagram on average every day?) that he had downloaded an app that automatically cut off his Internet usage once he had breached a certain time limit.

I could go on, but you probably get the point. I certainly did, and inspired by these young people, over the last fortnight I have attempted to bring down my ‘screen time’ as well (no, you really don’t want to know how long I spend on Twitter every day) and see if that helps me concentrate better on the book that I am working on at the moment. My way of doing this was to activate ‘Airplane mode’ when I sat down to write, so I had to perforce focus on my writing rather than disappear down the rabbit hole that is the Internet.

I must admit that it wasn’t easy to begin with. With an almost Pavlovian response, my fingers kept reaching out for the Twitter or Instagram icon, as my attention wandered from the computer screen in front of me. But when the feed would not – or more accurately, could not – refresh – I had no option but to turn back to my writing. The first few days were tough as my brain rewired itself to focus on one task rather than flitting from one to another as it had become accustomed to doing. But after a period of time, I actually began to look forward to these islands of time when I could concentrate on one thing to the exclusion of all else. And now, two weeks later, I can’t even begin to sit down to write without first activating ‘Airplane mode’ on my phone.

One happy outcome of this is over the last fortnight, my screen time is down by 47 per cent. And it would be even lower if it wasn’t for the fact that I have downloaded the Kindle app on my phone and do all my late-night reading on it.  The time I spend reading news sites is still a bit high, but I justify it to myself by calling it work (which, in a way, it is) rather than pleasure. I dip into Twitter only once or twice a day, and I feel much calmer – and much less outraged! – as a consequence. And I treat Instagram like a late-night treat rather than an hourly indulgence, which makes me appreciate it a lot more.

I am now pushing the envelope a little further by leaving my phone behind when I go on my daily walks. It felt a bit strange at first, not being able to listen to music or an audio book as I ambled through Lodhi Garden. But as I walked on, I began to appreciate the real world around me a lot more when I didn’t have a distracting soundtrack playing in my ear. I drank in the beauty of the flowery verges, the majesty of the monuments that suddenly sprang up on me, and the sweet sound of birdsong as the sun set on another day.

In a way it was a throwback to a gentler time, to my mobile phone-free youth, when I used to leave work in the evening and head straight out for a bracing walk secure in the knowledge that nobody could get hold of me for the next hour or so no matter how hard they tried. This is not a feeling that most young people these days are at all familiar with, given the hyper-connectedness of their lives, when they are never truly off the grid. Work mails keep pouring in at all times, bosses Whatsapp at odd hours and expect an instant comeback, and parents want to know exactly where you are and what you are doing at any given time.

No wonder the poor dears want to turn their phones on silent, or even switch the damn things off. In this day and age, sadly, that’s the only way to get some peace and quiet – and a tiny sliver of time to yourself.

Ringing out the old

If you're making plans for the New Year, here are some tips to help you along

No sooner has the end of November hoved into sight than the questions begin. What are you doing for New Year? Where is the party? Have you planned a trip somewhere special? And so on and on and on.

There was a time in my life when I was up for partying late into the night on New Year's Eve, drinking and dancing till my feet hurt. Then, there came a phase when my husband and I would leave town around this period, heading to one resort or the other, where we spent all our time reading, relaxing, and fitting in the odd massage. Of late, however, I find myself longing for the comfort of my own home for New Year, quaffing champagne from my own fridge rather than the overpriced swill that hotels include in their all-inclusive New Year 'package'. I love the thought of rustling up a meal in my own kitchen and eating it on my dining table, and then retiring to the couch for  a post-prandial glass of port and a dissection of the year past with my husband. 

The very idea of packing my bags and negotiating the horrors of airports at this time of year strikes terror into my heart these days. But I can understand the impulse of people who want to get away from it all and bring in the New Year at an exotic and exciting location. After all, I did that myself for years on the end. 

The problem with this plan, of course, is that flights are astronomically expensive during this period and hotel rates are ludicrously high. If you are willing to break the bank for a trip like this, then good luck to you. But what are the options for those who don't want to bankrupt themselves for the year to come, even as they celebrate it's arrival. 

Well, here are some tips for them, based entirely on my own experience over the years:

* Staycations are the way to go, especially if you live in a big city. If you do, then check around and see which of the luxury hotels in your city is offering a good package for the New Year break. It will be expensive, of course, but you will come in well under budget when you account for the fact that you are not spending anything on flights (and you will eliminate travel-related stress as well, as an added bonus). Most hotels will turn a blind eye if you bring in your own liquor so long as you drink it in the privacy of your room. So you can sit around in your fluffy bathrobe, order room service and get a bit tiddly, if that's your thing. Or you can get all dressed up for for the fancy New Year dinner in the restaurant downstairs and bop along to the live music as you wait for the clock to strike the midnight hour. And the next morning, all you need to get home is a car ride. No standing in line to check in for your flight. No stripping down to your essentials at security. And no nasty airplane ride to destroy your lovely post New-Year buzz. 

* If leaving town is mandatory for you, then steer clear of the usual New Year destinations that are horribly overpriced and awfully overcrowded at this time (and yes, I do mean Goa) and look further afield. If you want to sun yourself on pristine sands, then try the Andamans or even Lakshwadeep. Head south to Kerala, where you can enjoy the backwaters along with beach destinations, or just cruise along on the iconic rice boats as you enjoy the verdant scenery. If you are up for a bit of adventure then use this time to explore the north east. You could go the usual Gangtok-Rumtek route or go off the beaten track and head for Arunachal Pradesh as I did earlier this year. In this part of India, it will be the beauty that takes your breath away, not the prices -- or the milling crowds for that matter. 

* If you don't feel like you are truly on holiday unless you have left the country, then there are plenty of destinations that will give you a sizable bang for your buck. If you are a fan of Thailand, then head to Bangkok for a city break (the resort islands are unaffordable at this time of year). This is a city that caters to all budgets, the food is excellent and cheap, and fireworks display on New Year's Eve is free as long as line up along the riverside. If you have been there and done that as far as Thailand is concerned, then head on to Vietnam and Cambodia, both of which are great for the budget traveler. Sri Lanka is another county that is good value at this time. The country is trying to revive its tourism industry after a few setbacks and some judicious Googling will garner you some great deals in such destinations as Bentota, Kandy, Galle, and of course, Colombo. 

But wherever you end up, and whatever you do, I hope you have a brilliant New Year. And that 2020 turns out to be your best year yet. 

Age is just a number

For authors like John Le Carre, who continue to produce their best work  well into their 80s

My first introduction to spy thrillers came during my teenage years when I stumbled upon John Le Carre in my local library. It was the title of the book that caught my eye: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. I was sufficiently intrigued to take the book home. And that night, as I lay down to read myself to sleep as I usually did, I cracked it open and delved into the story. The next thing I knew it was three in the morning and my mother was knocking on my door to ask why my lights were still on. George Smiley, I answered, it’s all his fault.

Since that initiation, I have lost count of the number of nights I have lain awake reading John Le Carre until the wee hours of the morning. But little did I suspect in those early days that Le Carre would keep me entertained for quite so long; that he would still be churning out novels and memoirs well into his 80s. And yet here he is, at the venerable age of 88, with a new book out this month.

Agent Running In the Field is vintage Le Carre, with the novelist at the height of his powers, now writing against the backdrop of Brexit rather than the Cold war, but with the same vim and vigour. As I galloped through the book, staying up till dawn because I just could not put the damn thing down, I couldn’t help but marvel at the author’s mastery of his medium, which has only got better with age.

I guess that is the difference between great songwriters and great authors. Song writers hit their peak in their 20s or, at most, their 30s. Rare is the songwriter who continues to produce great songs after the age of 40. No, seriously, go on, try and think of one great anthem that Mick Jagger or Paul McCartney have written in their later years. Yes, that’s right, you can’t even come up with one.

But with great writers, the longer they live, the more life experiences they accumulate, the better they get at their craft. It’s not just Le Carre, though he is the most recent example. Think back to that other master of suspenseful story-telling: Agatha Christie. She too kept writing well into her old age, and her books just got better and better with every decade. Sure, they were rooted solidly within a certain genre – a murder takes place; there is a surfeit of suspects; there are plenty of red herrings; and the least likely person is found to be guilty – but within those narrow confines, they sparkled and shone with an effervescence that was Christie’s alone, no matter how old she got.

Maybe it is something about murder mysteries as a genre, but they seem to encourage longevity among its practitioners. Take P.D. James, for instance. She only began writing her crime thrillers when she was in her 40s. But once she started, it was as if she could never stop. Her books kept coming till she was well into her 70s, with Adam Dalgliesh ageing gently along with his creator. James’ last book, Death Comes to Pemberley, a homage of sorts to Jane Austen, with James revisiting Elizabeth Bennet and Darcy six years after their wedding, as they are caught up in a mysterious death on their estate, was published just three years before she died at the advanced age of 94.

But while it could be said that Death Comes to Pemberley was far from James’ best work – with the murder mystery being the weakest link in a book that attempted to recreate the world of Jane Austen – there are other authors who have produced their best works in what should be the twilight of their lives.

The first such name that comes to my mind is Elizabeth Jane Howard. A brilliant writer, her professional work was always overshadowed by her personal life, given that she was married to Kingsley Amis, and stepmother to Martin Amis for a while. It was only after her divorce, when she was freed from the shackles of enforced domesticity, did the writer in Howard flower completely.

The result was a set of five books, a family saga set in the aftermath of the Second World War, dubbed The Cazalet Chronicles. This traced the lives of an extended clan of brothers and sisters, cousins and siblings, governesses and maids, as they dealt with a rapidly-changing world, in which the old certainties they swore by did not hold. Howard allowed the sprawling cast of characters – all of them fully fleshed out with dreams, desires and motivations of their own – story arcs that extended over a ten year period, showing how completely family fortunes can change over a single decade. If you haven’t read these books yet, you’re in for a treat when you finally do.

All of this makes me wonder how things would have turned out if Jane Austen hadn’t died at the age of 41. What if she had grown into her 70s or even 80s; what if she had married and acquired a family, or even a step-family; what if she had dealt with the indignities of ageing; what if… How many more masterpieces like Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility would she have produced if only she had been allowed the gift of old age? Sadly, we will never know.