tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79195534801619140082024-03-14T07:41:41.006+05:30Learning from LifeGarima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-12033508381838946972023-10-19T21:50:00.001+05:302023-10-19T21:50:44.606+05:30Respect<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When I thought of writing this blog post, I was fuming with rage. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Why can’t the university </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">do </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">something instead of saying they’re looking into it? Why give me admission if they can’t even make sure I reach my classroom, forget about reaching it with dignity?</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Four years of being here and I’m back to square one. No ground floor classes available in my department; the accessible building opposite us refusing to give us classrooms except for conducting exams; the plan to build a lift in our building left abandoned; the idea of a new, accessible building for our department, a faraway dream. I’m tired, disappointed, angry, helpless, sleepless. But before we get into that, let me tell you what the university </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">has </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">done for me - let it never be said that Garima Vyas was an ungrateful a**.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They’ve given me permission to attend classes online when the classes are held upstairs. They’ve made sure to find me a table where my wheelchair can fit during exam time. They restricted the bathroom for me to use because I’m at a high risk of catching all sorts of infections, from </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">everywhere.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">They’ve made sure I get my extra time during exams. They’ve tried to exchange classrooms with other batches whenever possible. I’ve met some amazing, heartwarming human beings here (and dogs, let’s be honest), and I’m doing an internship which challenges me to the exact level I wish to be challenged.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: times;">But…when you talk about inclusion, accessibility to be more specific, it has been a nightmare. A nightmare I hope will at least dampen by the time I leave this place. When you take away someone’s means to get what you promised to give them, you are insulting their sheer existence. Sure, I can compromise and get lifted by people up and down the stairs, or I can keep attending classes online like I am right now. Both these options send the same message - you have power over me, and my problems aren’t big enough to stand up in front of your power. Which, to be honest, is completely opposite to the truth.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The authorities </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">do </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">have power over me, I realise and acknowledge that. But I refuse to be treated like a sack of potatoes any longer. I refuse to be lifted up and down the stairs like I used to. I refuse to be kicked around with “I can’t do anything about it, go talk to X” thrown at my face all the time. I refuse to be denied my basic, legal right as a human being - that of living with dignity and respect. Sure, I sit in a wheelchair and can’t reach most places without any help, but I’m still worthy of more respect than just a label of “strong and inspirational” without anyone making visible efforts to make it easier for me (and others like me) to navigate the world on my own. Yes, it has become a matter of self-respect and, to some extent, even ego. But in my place, is it even wrong?</span></span></p>Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-16419608099006231212022-10-01T23:46:00.000+05:302022-10-01T23:46:50.634+05:30College<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times;">It’s only been two weeks since my MA classes started and it already feels like too much to handle. <i>Welcome to real life</i>, they say. <i>This is how it’s going to be from now on</i>. And honestly, in another time, without a wheelchair and possibly with a Bullet of my own, I would have been enjoying this hectic schedule to the fullest. I might not even have been here in Vadodara for so long - a hostel life during college has always been a dream of mine. But right now, I’m just trying to cope.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times;">It’s tough on me, climbing the stairs everyday to class, sitting for hours at a stretch, hardly doing any physiotherapy yet trying to improve my swimming performance. My muscles are becoming stiff and it hurts. The physical discomfort sits there in the back of my mind making it difficult to focus in class. <i>How long has it been since I changed my position? Is it time to do my next round of push-ups yet? Maybe I should have brought my pain relief gel.</i> It’s all manageable till the professor announces they won’t share the PPT they are presenting so they hope you took notes. <i>Is it time to take my washroom break yet? I hope my bladder behaves today. I did take my meds this morning…didn’t I? Should I text mum and ask?</i> The period ends and I find my mum and we spend twenty minutes of my one-hour break taking a leak - <i>I wish the washroom was accessible! At least it’s clean today, though</i> - and then she gives me my lunch that she brought with her. I eat, socialise with my classmates once they come back from the canteen, and we attend our next class. By the time I reach my car after classes, the only thing I can think of is my bed - I guess this feeling is shared by just about every college student ever. I get home, rest my back muscles which are now stiff and sore from all that sitting, and fall asleep before I even think about it. I wake up, do some of my physio exercises, have coffee, exercise again, then get ready and leave for swimming. Of course, why would I ever hold back once I’m in the water? <i>But am I overdoing this? How sore is my body going to be by the end of this? Oh, well. We’ll see.</i> I go home, have dinner, wrap up for the day and prepare for the next one, and go to bed by 10:30 at most - way earlier than I used to just a week ago - because I’m just so tired. <i>Am I old already? Will I be fresh and energetic enough tomorrow to last the entire day?</i> I wake up and find out - yes, just fresh enough….I think.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times;">Maybe the rest of my college life won’t be too bad. Hectic, sure, but not too bad. They’re thinking of taking my classes on the ground floor now. They had to go from “Maybe we’ll install a lift” to “A ramp could work instead” and ended up never being able to change anything after all, no matter how many times they tried. <i>At least now my mother’s knees won’t get tortured so much. If this works out, of course.</i> Anyway, ground floor classes. I’ll be close to the canteen now. Maybe I’ll get a cup of coffee from there every now and then. Maybe that’ll help me calm down as I contemplate everything that’s wrong in the infrastructure of every building I’ve ever been to. Maybe that’ll make me angry yet keep me just composed enough, and that’ll be my Disney villain origin story.</span></p>Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-44198615209656868842021-07-19T18:54:00.005+05:302021-07-19T18:54:35.776+05:30Waves<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">On days like this I hardly have strength to go on. So I cry, ask my parents for comfort, and after the tears have finally drained me, I sleep.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s strange, really. The thoughts aren’t new ones, I don’t blame anyone, and neither does it last very long. It comes, shakes me to the core, and goes, waiting to strike again, hidden from my view. It’s only recently that it has started to come this often.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">In less than a month I will have lived for five years with my injury. My routine has hardly eased over the years; in fact it’s only gotten longer. I keep pushing my boundaries, breaking them and then working towards breaking new boundaries yet again. The cycle hasn’t stopped yet. Sometimes it feels like it might never, but I’m still holding on. Who even am I working this hard for, if not myself? And don’t we all deserve some hard work just for ourselves, though the definition of ‘some’ is different for everyone?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is tough. Heartbreaking. Sometimes devastating too. I’ve been under a lockdown of my own far longer than this pandemic has forced us to - everyone who knows me knows this. Of course, it has its happy times. For me, these are far more in number than the sad ones, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t break me from time to time. My efforts to regain my sensation and motor control take up so much of my time everyday I am sometimes afraid to think what I’ll do after this is all over, when I will finally have enough time and I will still complain about having too little of it. (That, however, would be because I’ll just keep wanting to do so many things all the time!) So then why does it scare me when it should be a beacon of light, a goal, one of the best case scenarios for me? Simply because I’ve longed for it so much now, yet been involved in doing something so far away from it, that I fear it might take me years to get used to that kind of freedom. The one where I can just run about if I want.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am afraid, I am exhausted, I just want to lie down for a while, and I will.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">And after all is said and done, I will fight again.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b724cf1d-7fff-09f0-7cea-4e598d34c034"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-57920300075760135552021-04-27T12:17:00.000+05:302021-04-27T12:17:53.578+05:30For the Love of Books<span id="docs-internal-guid-ab259d36-7fff-534b-94e4-d6208c293e17"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s something really magical about finding books that touch your soul. Sure, there are about a million books out there under the category of </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">classics</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">,</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> some surprisingly confusing when you start reading them, but what was it that made people decide they were the gems we humans couldn’t afford to lose?</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It’s not often I think about this, but when I do I could spend hours trying and failing to come up with an answer that makes complete sense...except this one: that all of these books, in one way or another, touch people’s heart in a way they cannot put into words, so they decide to urge other people to find out on their own.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I don’t remember the first time I read a book all on my own, or demanded my first book, or sneaked a book to my room so I could read with my tiny bookmark lamp under the covers for the first time. I do remember, though, that I was the first from my class to pick any book I wanted to issue or read from my school library and that made me feel like I had a superpower. I’ve had multiple reading spots in that library over the years, most of them in a corner by one of the windows. It was a beautiful experience, the way the noises around me faded when I started reading, even if the person right next to me called me. Ever so often there would be a book which would require that I take a break, breathe in, look out the window and take in the view, because there was no way in the world I could’ve absorbed more of its intensity without letting the parts I had just read sink in. That still happens to me today. Honestly, if that is not how you decide your favourites, I don’t know how you do it.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">So here I am, sitting in my room lit with fairy lights on my bookshelves, typing up a little something about my love for books, hoping I end up encouraging someone to discover the perfect genre for them, hoping to push them to start at their own pace, while the book I’m currently reading sits on my windowsill hoping I wouldn’t mess with it anymore because it is so very old. Well, little does the book know...</span></span></p></span>Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-41453377518209530292020-09-24T21:14:00.001+05:302021-04-27T12:19:06.340+05:30To Slam Books and Old Friends<p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today I found my old slam book. Yes, one of those things which you pass around to your friends for them to fill up and you swear never to show other people. Some of its pages were full to the brim, some were left empty except the names of people whose deepest, darkest secrets at twelve years of age were supposed to be right there on those pages. A few of these very special people from back then are still in regular contact with me, some are connected only on Instagram and in my contact list. Others have been long lost, even from my memory. Funny how time works on friendships.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-08095c30-7fff-57ab-f824-a063ada538e2"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">One of these friends used to be one of whom I categorised as my best friends back in the day. She is one of the handful of people I have cried in front of, and I remember her quite well. I even remember why I cried that day, and now that I think of it, it seems laughable yet so terribly serious for a twelve-year-old. Anyway, as I said, I remember her quite well. Her father had a transferable government job back then, probably still does now, and because of that she was only physically present in my life for two or three years, not exactly sure. After that her father got transferred again so we exchanged phone numbers on chits of paper, the old-fashioned way. Neither of us had a mobile phone to store those numbers, so when her father got transferred again she lost mine and I never got her new one. I sometimes wonder where she is these days, and whether she misses me. The good thing is I smile every time I think of her. Very few friends are such that stay in your memory like this: if you ever meet them again, you’ll probably end up becoming the closest of friends once more.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Now that I’ve finished that paragraph, I’ve written and deleted another one a few times. All I can think about is nothing. Nothing at all. I am trying to bring up memories of friends, from the slam book and otherwise, all from back in school before we got separated by our choices and their consequences. It seems my brain will only let those out when I get away from the screen, away from any means which breaks the surety that my thoughts and memories will stay with me, unseen by others, unheard by others, and I don’t yet understand why. Maybe a few years down the line when my further study in Psychology will help me unravel the secrets of my mind I’ll get it, maybe I’ll get it someday when I’m doing nothing but staring at the night sky from my window. This is not the first time I’m struggling to consciously remember things about my past friends and it probably isn’t the last time...but I guess what really matters is that even though I can’t pull them out right now, when the time comes, I always have the most detailed, strongest, sweetest memories of all.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">So my dear friends who haven’t been in contact since long, if you’re reading this, I think of you. Not all the time, not in detail, but very, very fondly. I hope to see you and catch up with you sometime in the future when we have lots and lots of stories to share and listen, or if possible, even in the near future so we can reach that faraway time in each others’ company.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Love,</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Me.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-17800043349474756462020-05-13T18:22:00.001+05:302021-04-27T12:19:30.527+05:30Negative Emotions? Also a Sign of Life.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Recently I and my mum were featured in an interview with Dr Darshana Thakkar and Dr Parthiv Mehta. Among other things we talked about life after my accident and how I managed to stay mentally strong. The one thing that touched me and made me smile was a little sentence Dr Thakkar said near the end. It might even have gone unnoticed by everyone else, I'm not sure, but for me? Definitely not so.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">What she said was quite simple - that I must be trying really hard all the time not to break down internally, for I enjoy a lot of things when I can, during some of the most energetic years of my life, despite being on a wheelchair...and she's right. It is the time of my life where I would definitely have wished to move around freely, bunk some lectures, go on unplanned trips and parties with my friends, maybe even date. It becomes difficult in a wheelchair and I sometimes feel angry, frustrated, restricted, sad - all of it, even jealous of other people because they can do things that I can't. I am only human, and it is probably a good thing that I feel these things.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I feel. The fact that I can and do feel emotionally vulnerable simply points to one thing, that I am alive, I am thriving and I haven't given up on life yet. Have you ever seen or heard about a corpse being able to feel any emotions at all? No, right? It is biologically not possible. This is why I think it is important to feel vulnerable sometimes - it reminds us of our life or death status.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the other hand, however, It is not a good experience when I'm actually going through my down times. It can be tough to exercise, study or even read a good book or enjoy some music. It can be difficult to understand someone else's point of view, to understand and remember how blessed I am to have an understanding and loving family, dedicated friends, my unharmed intellect and physical strength. It is difficult, but it is these difficult things that help me get up after an emotional breakdown. Luckily I am quite resilient so I don't have such phases often, even though unconsciously I may be battling them all the time, and when I do have such phases they last hardly for a few hours. But they are intense.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is true that life can be emotionally mixed up, difficult, unnerving, but in the end what matters is that we take home the right lessons and not let things pile up. Everyone has negative emotions they are trying to get over, but how is that ever possible if we don't be true to ourselves and face them? If we're determined enough, willing enough, is it really that hard?</span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-48125300662065095812020-03-28T09:16:00.004+05:302021-04-27T12:19:57.460+05:30The Quarantine Effect<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms", sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;">Recently we were all instructed to stay in our homes in
order to protect ourselves from the Coronavirus outbreak. A lot of people are
pretty upset about this huge change in their routines. They have no idea what
to do all day, and even if they work from home there’s this something that
feels missing. Honestly such reactions seem both funny and pitiful to me,
considering the fact that my routine has been the exact same ever since I
started physiotherapy to help me recover from my injury.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;">However, I cannot say I don’t relate to the confusion people
are facing these days, the way they’re feeling trapped and helpless after a
point of time when being home seems like there’s nothing much left to do. I
have always been someone who has a high need for stimulation all the time and
must do something or the other all day in order to feel sane. The first few
days after surgery were tough for me that way. All I had to do was to lie in
bed and “do whatever I wanted to” which mostly included reading or watching TV
and meeting people for a three-hour-window of the visiting hours in the
hospital. Eventually visitors lessened, my eyes started hurting with all the
reading and TV and I felt blank. What was I supposed to do now? I don’t even
remember anymore what I did then, probably just went back to sleep.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;">Some more days later I went back home and then there really
was nothing I would do. No doctors to examine me, no nurses coming to chat with
me, no visitors in my room because the stitches in my spine had only recently
been opened up and we didn’t want them to be infected, obviously. I had nothing
to do except physiotherapy (that was a different method than what I’m currently
following). So then I dived right in when my physiotherapist came and I showed
so much improvement (only visible to those who observed me daily) that she had
to look for new exercises for me almost every fourth day. As a side effect of this
enthusiasm I could now comfortably go back to binge-reading and occasionally
studying again.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;">Then some months later I and my family decided to go ahead
with the current physiotherapy routine which goes on for literally all day
except when I’m eating. This was perfect for me – I was doing something all day
long with hardly any time left to do anything else. I realised the importance
of time because I only had so many hours in a day left to study after all the
exertion. Even today I’m almost struggling to find time to do anything but
exercise and study, but I manage and don’t regret any of it. In fact in that
time I try to fit at least one of my hobbies per day, and thankfully I have
many. Pretty sure that’s one of the reasons why I have never, despite following
the exact same routine for these past few years, felt too bored with it.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;">You ask me how’s quarantine for me? It is a way of life that
lets me focus on my recovery and is helping me think of how I can fit all I
want to do in that little amount of time I have left during the day because I
know once college starts again I won’t have much chance. It is helping me see
how far I’ve come from the girl who became restless when confined to her home,
where she now feels like that’s her own little world. It means I and mum get to
spend all day with papa – his laughter and his jokes and stories feel like
therapy. It is letting me help my friends to go through this sudden change in
their lives and routines where they run out of things to do and I see myself a
little more than three years ago, in need of someone who has gone through this
and can help me fight through. And finally, being able to hear the birds
chirping in the calm silence all around me, I can see how much this period of
quarantine has healed our environment from the harm humankind had brought to
it.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""trebuchet ms" , sans-serif" style="font-family: georgia;">(Not so) dear Coronavirus, I may not love you, but I’m
grateful for the way you made the environment clean again. Thank you and may we
never see you again <span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-25185338662769775212019-12-15T21:12:00.000+05:302019-12-15T21:12:24.350+05:30Infrastructure, Mental Health and Society<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1st July, 2019. My first day at college - the MS University of Vadodara. I wasn't exactly excited to go - I wanted to leave Vadodara, study elsewhere. Well, the education here is good, so I decided to go with the flow.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We approached the building to attend the orientation program. Right in front of me stood three big stairs - just to enter the building. At the time I had not yet learnt to climb up or down staircases as I can now, but even today that's a dangerous method to follow. Anyway, that day it took three people to lift me sitting on my wheelchair into the building. It was in that moment that I realised how dependent I was, and was going to be for the rest of my course here, upon people other than just me for something as basic as entering my college. Literally.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was devastated, frustrated, angry. I hated the place. Luckily for the college, though, I wouldn't be able to attend classes for about 4 months after the first three days, during which I had multiple health issues and a surgery. Also during the same period onwards my family, like many others before us, requested the authorities of the University to make infrastructural changes so as to support me and others like me to attend classes regularly. Their excuse? The University campus is a heritage site. I mean, of course, why would I want to go to any heritage site at all, especially my own college campus, right? And even if I did want to go, wouldn't I rather risk breaking my spine again by climbing entire staircases like I already am than actually having an easy passage method to use?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We have been told since a long time that we should practise what we preach. We talk about equality yet some of us refuse to believe changes are necessary to bring about equality. We talk about mental health yet some of us refuse to even consider the ill effects of having to be dependent just because it is "troublesome" to change the present facilities. This section of our society needs some serious change in their perspective, especially those who have the power to not only affect change but also to actually administer it. I really want to know how, when they have the need for such facilities, they just magically appear, but even after years of appeals and sometimes court cases the general public isn't provided with them.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Contrary to this my school - the Bright Day School CBSE Vasna unit - was very supportive. As soon as we realised we would need a ramp and requested them to build one, they fulfilled that request along with a number of subtle changes that helped me glide through my last two years there as best as possible.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Recently I have been working on a video about the infrastructural problems any wheelchair enabled person might face at the University as part of the Accessible Vadodara campaign, with the hope that at least someone will listen and act, so that the students coming after me may not face as much of these issues as I and others before me have had to. It is a legal requirement for public institutions to have accessibility supports, complete with guidelines on the dimensions of such supports. This requirement is often neglected. To say the truth, many of my classes have been shifted to the ground floor, and I am thankful for that. However that is hardly enough looking at the state of the building.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This isn't just a question of physical support. Mental health is a real thing and it is affected immensely by a person's sense of independence. I may make peace with a majority of my own problems but I refuse to stay quiet when the sense of independence, of equality, of such a large part of the society is in question. Because, after all, staying quiet isn't much better than actually causing harm.</span></div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-21109006336996488162019-09-26T15:12:00.000+05:302019-09-26T15:12:22.637+05:30Do not tell me I'm not trying hard enough<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Do not tell me I'm not trying hard enough. Do not assume I didn't think of the basic "problems" or "solutions" - ask. Because, you know, then I'll probably be trying really hard not to punch you in the face. If i succeed in restraining myself, I am strong enough to keep going, which is clearly most important to me. If I succeed in punching you, you're hurt and I am definitely strong enough to go through my wars and win, with or without your condescension.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">These are things everyone going through a hard time wants to say to everyone else. These are things our orthodox society wants to keep shushed. In fact if the society wasn't such, no one would dare to question our worth and the world would be more peaceful in more than one way. Being human would no longer need approval.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As much as I would like to fight doubters with my fists, I would like to write about it and tell people they are not alone in being angry - neither am I. Some of us hide it because it's more polite that way, others because there just seems to be no point in showing it. We are never sure how the receiver might react to our anger, but do we really deserve to be made to feel insufficient for the world? The only thing we can control is ourselves, and by control I do not mean hold back, I mean let out the exact amount we wish to. Overcoming nonsensical restrictions to express ourselves is half the battle won.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>There is power in me which you don't know about, power which I didn't show you because I do not need to prove myself to you. I am enough and your underestimation of me shows just how little you know me.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Again strong words society wants to shush. Sometimes I wish it wasnt so diffiicult to stand up for ourselves simply because of the stress it creates. We are not pressure cookers who can only whistle when absolutely stuffed! It hurts when people undermine us and it is our right to speak up. We shouldn't be ashamed of it and we shouldn't be embarrassed of the wars we are fighting inside of us. This is what it feels like to be human in a world which wants robots. It is time humans learn to be both human and humane - to both express oneself and to respect others.</span></div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-81211800707222604392019-08-29T10:02:00.001+05:302019-08-29T10:02:20.710+05:30Trail of Thoughts: Midnight Edition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Looking back at my earlier blogs I realise my journey of
writing is changing the way I see things, the way I communicate, the way I
express. It started out with a crude attempt at writing somewhat of an essay,
just the way school essays are expected to be. Over time and over many hours of
reading and introspection my writings changed from essays to open diary
entries. My way of looking at things has changed too; call it more mature or
just plain realistic, the choice is yours. It is a long journey covered in a
short time frame inside our minds: our thoughts never wait to be put into
words, they simply flow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What I feel while I put this into words feels close to what
we call eye-opening realisation. Endless tiny realisations seem to come back to
me, finding links where there seemed to be none, creating a blur picture that
gets clearer with every peek. I am far too young to exactly know, with far too
many adventures waiting for me in life, waiting for me to discover parts of me
which I never knew existed. To make sense of the world is a lifelong process.
Why we persist to do so is a question which has been answered yet I feel there
is more to it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Millions of years of evolution and the subsequent gradual
enlargement of our brains are not enough to answer many questions we have about
life. However one thing we know for sure is that change is the only constant in
nature. Gradual or sudden, predicted or unexpected, every change builds up the
world both within and without us. Nature finds its way to restore balance in
every chaotic situation. Our unconscious has been hardwired to try and maintain
balance in our lives, be it emotional, physical, social or otherwise. The
harder we try to compel our mind to behave in a way that will create imbalance,
the greater is the rebound we face to get back to normal. C’est la vie. I
believe this is the major explanation behind the saying, ‘Trust your heart, it
knows the way.’ After all freedom to be ourselves is what we all desire! What
use is logic if we never intend to apply it?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What if the very change we are afraid to bring about is the
one that we actually need?</span></div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-21947790332277498442019-05-28T20:48:00.002+05:302019-08-29T10:02:45.345+05:30Stairs, Stares and My Take on the Two<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I first went out in my wheelchair, it was an eye-opening experience for me. I found out that it is true when many of my fellow wheelchair community members say, "We only have two major challenges - stairs and stares."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I understood the part about stairs even before I actually went out in my wheelchair. I and my parents probably spent hours deciding where to go because so few places in Vadodara are accessible to people like me! Wherever there are two or more steps, a wheelchair has to be carried, as also the person in it. Sometimes if there is a lift, there is a short staircase before we can reach it. Other times there is no issue in reaching the lift but the entrance to it is too small for a wheelchair to fit through. And sometimes when </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">there are good ramps, not too steep and not too slippery,
there are vehicles parked in front of them. So if I can’t enter a place, how am
I going to enjoy it? Luckily because of the “Accessible India” movement along with growing awareness, more
and more places are becoming equipped with better infrastructure and thus open
for the community to enjoy.</span></div>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Coming to the stares part, I believe it is more of a
curiosity – filled mindset problem than anything else. Most people tend to
underestimate every person in a wheelchair. They underestimate our ability to
move around on our own, to pick out things that we like, even the ability of
our companions in supporting us whenever few times we need. I have seen
strangers gaping when I transfer myself from a wheelchair into a car. I have
seen them gaping when I sit in the food court and place orders when with my
friends. I have seen them gaping when I collide into someone and then apologise
with a smile instead of falling off my wheelchair. Often there are kids who
smile at me while their parents frown and pull them away, maybe because of some
stigma they have attached to this condition, to wheelchairs, out of a
completely bizarre belief which I fail to understand.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To be honest, it feels encouraging to see someone smile at
me and acknowledge my presence and not just that of my wheelchair. It feels
like magic exists when little kids come up to me and say you’ll be alright with
their sweet little laughs and then run away to their happily waiting parents.
It feels empowering to know that I rebuild people’s mindsets each time I
interact with them. I feel strength in knowing that I am complete, with or
without my wheelchair. Also, I do not feel ashamed to ask for help although
unwanted help feels annoying. I do not hate stares although receiving smiles
are way better. Getting acceptance from the society for being the way I am is a
blessing that most of us in the community struggle for. Let us all make the
world a better place – a more accessible and accepting place.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-67243975201857002062018-10-15T15:24:00.000+05:302018-10-15T15:24:09.566+05:30A Step Ahead<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today I took a step further, faced my fear of being in a crowd. After two long years I am attending the Navratri celebration of my school. Of course, it is difficult. Looking at everyone around me dancing to this magical tune, all these happy faces, listening to this music and not being able to go and dance as I used to earlier. It is even more difficult considering the fact that this is the one festival I have always waited for every year. I don't remember ever being so excited for any other festival. And now, although stripped away from that beautiful crowd, dancing and enjoying every moment, every beat, I come to think of how blessed I really am. I can still feel the blood rush through my body every time I hear the familiar tune of Garba. I can still feel goosebumps on my skin every time my favourite-of-all Garba plays in the background and everyone jumps to the rythm. I am fortunate enough to feel everything I used to feel earlier.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The one big difference this time is that I am looking at all those subtle moments which earlier went unnoticed because of the adrenaline. Friends teasing each other. Lovers looking at each other, smiling and unable to look away. A garba player, high on this enchanting Navratri fever, losing herself in the moment. The beautiful Durga idol, devotees all around it, praying for all the happiness in the world. If not for my injury I would never have looked at these things. I realised there is so much beauty and serenity in this festival of colour, energy and adrenaline. It brings people together, connects people with themselves. Maybe somewhere in my heart I knew I was missing it too much, but all I did about it was to shirk away altogether from the festival. Maybe it isn't so bad to sit here, looking and listening and feeling it all but not participating myself. Maybe life isn't so unfair as people tend to assume.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After all this time in a wheelchair I realised a lot of things about life, happiness, priorities, friendship and whatnot. In the end all that matters is what we choose to remember and the way we choose to remember it. I have had my low moments when I cried my eyes out missing all the things I used to do earlier. But something about today is different. I am facing a lot of what I fear - crowds, Garba, sitting alone and watching while everyone is having fun. But today I choose to smile. I choose to remember the sound of this heavenly music and the feel of its beats and all the happy faces around me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today I choose to cherish each moment I witness of this celebration.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today I choose to be happy.</span></div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-9528725840173627152018-06-05T05:52:00.003+05:302018-06-05T05:52:53.485+05:30The Salt in my Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Knowingly or unknowingly, our life is greatly influenced by
the people we choose to be associated with. It affects our emotional state, our
self confidence and also our intellect. And then comes the attention we choose
to give them. The more responsive and affectionate we are to someone, the more
they are likely to feel connected to us. But sometimes we fail to acknowledge
those who really are close to our heart, maybe because we do not find enough
words for the kind of special that they are. Maybe when they are present we
feel comfortable even in silence, or we don’t feel it necessary to keep a
conversation alive. We might not notice their presence but their absence
affects. I like to call such people the salt in our lives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As we all know, salt is what makes food taste so good. It is
what enhances the various flavours, makes the spices show their true form. But
when there is no salt, all we taste is blandness – no flavour, no
excitement...the food is everything but enjoyable. Similarly when the
metaphorical salt is away from us, we feel incomplete. It is the magic in their
presence which makes everything seem normal and pleasant. </span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Such a person in my life is one of my cousins. We were born
five months apart, and have grown up together. I have no siblings but he never
lets me feel so. We stayed in different cities but we used to visit each other
during every vacation that we got. Last year he came to stay with my family in
order to study his last two years of school life. But every moment that he can
since the day he came, he tries to make me laugh, even if it means making a
fool out of himself. Such is my cousin – playful and mature, hardworking and
humorous. So many of my happy childhood memories are with him that I wonder how
come he isn’t my real brother. All those little things that we did as kids that
got us into trouble – cutting his hair to make him almost bald, fighting with
each other, climbing the tree at my granny’s home – the list is endless. But it
was after he started to live with us that his absence started to affect me.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There are a lot of things to do when it comes to looking after
me ever since my injury - two years ago. My cousin seemed to be a boon to my
mother when he came here. He helped with my busy schedule of physiotherapy by
keeping everything that I needed ready at the right time. He reminded me to
take my medicines on time, came to help me at my every beck and call without
getting tired. He still does all of this with a huge smile on his face, and
never leaves an opportunity to tease me and keep me happy. So here is a small
message to the salt in my life on his birthday– all I can ever do to repay you
is to be by your side all my life, and I promise I will be right here. Happy
birthday!</span></div>
</div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-25662645806953482172018-03-15T14:08:00.002+05:302018-03-15T14:08:41.249+05:30A Little Perspective<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">The Oxford
English dictionary defines perspective as “a way of thinking about something.”
There exist as many perspectives in the world as there are people. Each one is
unique and gives us an insight about the person who owns it. Yet our mind stays
stuck to just one of them when trying to solve problems or while even thinking
about something. Our own.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Often we
experience that we cannot think of a possible way of solving our problems, of
dealing with people. We wonder what makes people so different from one another.
The answer to these questions may seem unrelated, but really, it all lies in
how we look at things. For instance, we see old people around us. So many of
them stay in a state of seclusion, and no matter how hard we try, they seem
impossible to satisfy. Their mindset seems to have become inflexible and they
do not accept changes as easily as we do. They take themselves to be a burden
upon the lives of their ‘extremely busy children,’ or they tend to find flaws
with everything their children try to do for them. And then there are the other
type, the ones which want to be included, and tend to find the good stuff in
everything around them. They know there is a need to take action to be happy –
only expecting others to do something is useless. Upon close observation, we
notice that the only difference between these two types of the same age group
is their perspective – the latter more positive than the former.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Such
examples abound in our life. People who have suffered from an accident
physically may or may not have suffered mentally. Ever since my accident,
people have asked me, “Don’t you ask yourself why this happened to you?” And I
have only had one thing to say. Whatever happens, happens for good. This is not
a very happy incidence, I agree. But the changes it has incurred in my
perspective, in my way of looking at things, is overwhelming. Never have I ever
pitied myself, nor have I let anybody else pity me. Thinking positively can get
you through everything.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There are
times when we are completely devoid of hope. There is nothing that seems to
comfort us, to make us feel worthy. The simple question that can help us find
meaning in such situations is this: ‘What good might this do to me?’ No matter
how long it takes to find the answer to this question, in the end that alone is
what heals our soul, helps us find ourselves and makes us more positive. This
little change in perspective – from focussing on what’s good rather than what’s
bad – is what can keep us going.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-IN;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What can we
do to stay positive? Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to stay positive. But
once an effort is taken, it is possible to find happiness in everything, even
create happiness where necessary. There is a lot that can be done. Try to look
at things in as many different ways as possible. Assert yourself, “you can do
it” and push yourself again. Do what you love and love what you do. Give yourself
a break from those things that hurt you – even people. Think of what can be
done, not what damage has already occurred. Have patience. Remember, it is the
little things that matter in life. Stop expecting and start doing. Smile to
yourself and be thankful for your life. There are people out there who want to
be in your place, so consider yourself lucky. Inculcate habits which are
healthy both physically and mentally. Never give up, because better things are
yet to come!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-90215058943641336102017-11-05T22:12:00.004+05:302018-03-15T14:00:23.246+05:30Loneliness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Loneliness. Deep, dark, brutal. Every time it approaches
you, it eats you from the inside. It makes you want to cry, to do crazy things.
It is one of the major causes of depression, even suicide. Most of it is
because you expected people to be there when you needed them, and they simply
didn’t show up. Sadly, almost everyone goes through this every day. Most of
them are either ashamed to say it out loud or don’t even know what just
happened to their emotions. And yes, I experienced it too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After my spinal cord injury, I have seen many people go
away. Many of the new people I met just stared at me and my wheelchair, and I
felt more embarrassed than ever. Surprisingly, many of my old not-so-close friends were still there for me. I had never thought they would be the ones
who would comfort me. But the weight of losing my close ones was so much, I
felt lonely. Then I started going to school. This was even worse than in the
hospital. It was me who could not move around the class and socialise, not my
classmates. But maybe only a few of my classmates realised this, and they
became the reason my fake smiles turned into real ones. But the others – they
just made me lonely. Maybe they couldn’t accept me like this – a bubbly and
cheerful girl full of life, extremely active sportsperson, now sitting in a
wheelchair. Maybe they were scared, or didn’t even care. Now, I realised that I
couldn’t find my happiness and comfort in everyone. So I decided that I wanted
to break free.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I started to shift my focus from being primarily social to
studying hard and do what I loved and could. Every time I felt lonely, I sought
my wonderful parents. I told them everything I felt, even cried if I wanted to.
They understand me better than anybody else ever will. Of course it felt weird
the first time, but then we didn’t even need to talk. A nice warm hug would do
it all. My loneliness? Temporarily gone, until the next time I’m unable to
attend a party with friends or tired of having to stand out. I still go all
over these things every single time I feel lonely so I would feel better. And
then I entered class 11, a major positive spin in my life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am in the Humanities stream, Arts as it was known as
previously. We are only 14 students. But on the first day we discovered that we
had to sit along with the commerce students. Somehow, I wasn’t happy. I knew
almost everybody, but I just couldn’t stand all the staring. I only talked to a
few students – I was afraid of the others because I thought they would make fun
of me, exclude me. (Luckily this didn’t happen) Then, finally after the
attendance was done and the 14 of us went together for our first lesson, I
realised that just like me, they were nervous, afraid and shy. They felt the
same as me, but in a different context. So I decided to open up, and since we
were only 14 in number, we had enough time to speak about ourselves. My new
friends started to wipe out my loneliness. They included me in everything I
could possibly do. They made me feel special and happy, I had a chance to introspect
a lot, I had an opportunity to find true friends, all because they were (and
are) by my side. Now when I’m lonely, it is mainly because I rarely meet some
of my close friends as they have changed schools. But then, there’s always the
thought that wherever they are, they must be happy, and that makes me feel
good.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Finally, the battle against loneliness is tough, strenuous and
long. But it’s not like we can’t do anything about it: actually there’s a lot
we can do. Watch movies, go out to play, listen to your favourite music, introspect,
and travel. And yes, find someone who listens to you when you need them, and
don’t hide anything from them. Got nobody? Write a diary, or a blog. Discover
your creative side. Learn to let go. Remember, if you keep it in your heart, it
will break you. Share it with those you trust and you will be happy again!</span></div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7919553480161914008.post-54736854534557624622016-11-06T20:18:00.000+05:302018-03-15T14:04:27.916+05:30The Incident That Changed Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's been almost three months since I faced what might be the biggest accident of my life. I injured my spine, just a day before the Indian
Independence Day – 14<sup>th</sup> of August, 2016. The most difficult
consequence is that I can’t feel my legs; the most beautiful one, that I
understood how “everything happens for a reason.”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">People all around me say that when you’re in trouble, only
those who really care about you will come to help, to make you smile, to make
you feel better. It wasn’t until this happened that I understood the true
essence of this statement. Some people also say that I’m way too mature for my
age – I’m going to be 15 – but that’s perfectly fine, especially when they use this to
praise me. I mean, who doesn’t like to be praised, right?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Around two weeks before my accident, I was in a teenager
crisis, fighting with whom I considered to be my closest friends. One reason
was they had made new friends, with whom I was very uncomfortable. Another, I
had suddenly become so dependent on my friends that I would never like to be
left alone. I guess I had just never come out of my class 9<sup>th</sup>
popularity. Last year, in class 9<sup>th</sup> , I was the General Secretary of
my school, and this had made a huge difference in my life. I was popular,
interacted with so many students and teachers at all times. Such a busy time it
was, being a part of the student council. Then came class 10. A new life, a new
world. The student council changed, and I realised how arrogant I had become. I
was shocked the day I realised that I wasn’t the same silly bugger who could
get along, company or not. In fact, friends were all that kept me going at
school. Of course, I was aware that I had become a part of a lot of gossip, but
some perfectly horrid creature in my mind just kept telling me, “They’re just
jealous of you babe! You don’t need to worry!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thank god, I realised at the right time what the consequence
of this could be. After that time came these two weeks, when my friends had got
over me, but unfortunately, I was a bit too late to get adjusted to all this.
Then God decided to give me a break from all this tumult in my life, and here
he put me, in my bed for a month, then sitting for another one and a half.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As the first two weeks passed by, I noticed that even though
my friends made new friends and were hanging out with them, they never really
forgot me. And those whom I wouldn’t bear to talk with, actually came to visit
me twice or thrice till I came home. All this wonderful stuff happens to me
even today, almost three months after the life-changing day of my life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Truly amazing, how tough times change people. I really thank
God for making me the person I am, not making me cry at any point, or become
weak. I guess now I know, why most of those who know me, call me a Little
Lioness!</span></div>
</div>
Garima Vyashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03816690345582958306noreply@blogger.com28