I am – (A Comfortable Mess with Good Intentions)
A few days ago, I opened my “miscellaneous” drawer in search of a charger. Indian households always have one mysterious drawer.
No one knows what’s inside it. Yet everyone believes something important might be there. Inside mine, I found: three expired batteries, one temple receipt from 2017, safety pins, an old Rakhi, two keys whose locks no longer exist, and a handwritten note by my son from school days saying, “Best Mom.” Naturally, I forgot the charger and sat there smiling like an emotional fool. And honestly, that is exactly the kind of person I am. I feel deeply. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But quietly, continuously. I get attached to moments more than things. An old bedsheet can remind me of summer vacations. The smell of Vicks reminds me of my mother. Steel lunchboxes remind me of rushed school mornings. And old songs? Old songs are emotional kidnappers.
I am also the kind of person who constantly says:
“अब बस simple life जीनी है…”
And then immediately starts: a new writing challenge, a new YouTube idea, a new manifestation workshop, or rearranging the house because suddenly “energy change” feels important. Honestly, I don’t think I know how to sit completely still. Life after a certain age becomes strange.
For years, you have been needed everywhere.
“Mummy!”
“Where are my socks?”
“What’s for dinner?”
“Did you pay the bill?”
“Where is my project file?”
Then one day… silence arrives. At first, it feels peaceful. No school rush. No constant cooking. No chaos. No noise. You finally drink hot tea while it is still hot. But slowly, another feeling enters quietly.
The Routine.
The days become too organised, too predictable and too safe. And that is dangerous in its own way. Because human beings do not become unhappy only from problems. Sometimes we become dull from excessive comfort. I realised this recently. One evening, I was sitting with my tea, scrolling endlessly on my phone, watching other people travel, create, dance, laugh, start businesses, learn pottery, trek mountains… And there I was — adjusting sofa cushions for the third time that day.
That evening, I asked myself, “When did life become only about managing the day?” Since then, I have started reclaiming small joys. Nothing dramatic. Just a little rebellion against boring adulthood. I always dress up every day in a way that I am going out. No ghar ka pyjama t-shirt for me. This is my habit for decades now, when I switched to freelancing way back in the early 2000s. Every day, I get ready as if going to the office and then open my laptop. A close friend of mine, Kusum Aggarwal (nee Jain after her marriage, God bless her, she left long back), shifted nearby and dropped in on a Saturday just like that. As I was getting ready, she admired my getting ready, complete with bindi, kajal, lipstick and hairstyle as if I was going out. I love dressing up, and I dress up for myself. 🙂
Sometimes I go for chai outside instead of making it at home. If RB joins, fine; otherwise, I go alone. Sometimes I record videos even when I feel awkward seeing myself on camera. Sometimes I take random roads while travelling to see where they lead. Sometimes I buy flowers only because they look pretty. I think happiness survives in small acts of aliveness. I am also someone who lives in contradiction. I want peace… but also excitement. I want minimalism… but cannot throw out old greeting cards. 🫣I try to stay detached… but reread old WhatsApp chats occasionally. I promise healthy eating… while emotionally depending on namkeen and chai. I say I don’t care what people think…yet sometimes I get disturbed.
Human beings are funny like that. Age does not make us perfect. It just makes us more honest about our imperfections. And somewhere over the years, I have become softer. Earlier, I reacted quickly. Now I observe more. Earlier, I wanted to prove myself. Now I want peace. Earlier, I wanted people to understand me. Now I understand that everyone is fighting private battles. I have also stopped glorifying busyness. Doing nothing peacefully is also a skill. Sitting quietly on the balcony watching birds is productive for the soul. Afternoon naps are underrated blessings. And cancelling unnecessary plans sometimes feels like spiritual growth. But don’t mistake this softness for weakness. Life teaches women of our generation resilience quietly. We learned to adjust, manage, sacrifice, support, survive emotional storms, and still serve tea normally to guests. There is strength in that kind of ordinary living. Maybe that is why now, in this phase of life, I crave authenticity more than perfection. I no longer want a life that looks impressive. I want one that feels meaningful.
And enough emotional energy to stay curious about life. That’s all. So what kind of person am I? I think I am a little bit of everything.
Someone who still gets excited about new notebooks. Someone who talks to plants while watering them. Someone who saves empty gift boxes “just in case.” Someone who has cried over old photographs and laughed loudly five minutes later. Someone who is learning that growing older and growing dull are not the same thing. And maybe that is the real answer. I am not trying to become extraordinary anymore. I just want to remain alive inside – Curious, Creative, Emotional, Hopeful.
Even if my miscellaneous drawer remains permanently messy.
Neerja Bhatnagar
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