{"id":10379,"date":"2021-04-17T07:03:00","date_gmt":"2021-04-17T14:03:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/?p=10379"},"modified":"2021-04-16T15:04:53","modified_gmt":"2021-04-16T22:04:53","slug":"hello-how-are-you","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/hello-how-are-you\/","title":{"rendered":"Hello, how ARE you?"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

By Sharmila Rao<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Writing Prompt on The Isolation Journals<\/a>: How ARE you?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What happened yesterday evening motivated me to attempt this prompt. I dropped in to meet one of my friends whom I was seeing after a year because of the Covid protocols. She is a cancer survivor and I had gotten closer to her during this challenging journey of hers. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and she replied I am fine, Sharmila.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could see her eyes were saying something else though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we got talking about the past year and how it has affected each one us, I told her of the many changes I have begun to incorporate in my life, one of them being giving due priority to myself\u2014something I felt I had seriously lacked all my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The moment I mentioned this to her I was taken aback by her soft almost immediate plea to guide her as to how she could go about this herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, swearing me to secrecy she slowly revealed without a pause, the story of her married life and the issues she was facing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It seemed to me the fall out of having an insensitive husband and the typical vacuum she and many women face mostly around middle-age. They grapple, often unsuccessful, like she was, as the opposite party denies or lacks the need for empathetic communication.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clearly, she was anything but \u2018fine.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I walked home, I couldn’t help but ruminate over this. I stopped to ask myself how often had I been able to respond honestly to: Hello, how are you?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As far as I can remember, only till I was living in childhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remembered how I was called, \u201cThe Happy child\u201d in my family as I was always attuned to the many little wonders of the world around me. I am still sure fairies sit on toadstools!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It did make me feel special but undeniably a trifle embarrassed, even at that time, for it felt like being singled out under a spotlight for being different.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life however took care of that. Sometimes it can work efficiently overtime at the wrong time and so it ensured I was quick to learn that nothing comes for free. And, happiness? Never.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lots of water has flowed under the bridge. I swam along mostly fighting against the current, sometimes out of breath and at times even thinking I would drown. I continued to wear the \u201cI am fine\u201d badge. After all that is what is expected of you: be courteous, be brave, be stoic, be mature. Be everything, but yourself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And me, the good student, carried on living in the classroom of life till I realized the truth: there were no prizes for the best performance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Behind the \u2018I am fine\u2019 mask it gets suffocating; the self begins to decay in layers of untruth. Whenever I tried to lift it, only a few people accepted what they saw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It reminds me of my father who was an eternal optimist. I remember all so clearly, when anyone greeted him with a regular \u2018How are you, he would cheerfully reply, \u201cCan’t grumble.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I never thought much about it then but as the years pass by and I find it increasingly difficult to answer, I find his two little words so relevant and imperative to adopt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

More so in these strange new times when I see people around me who are suffering untold pain and for whom even the next meal is a battle. For us, India does offer a conscience check every so often, even on my daily evening walk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next time around, the answer to \u201chow are you\u201d will be for myself.  A reassuring, Well I AM fine. After all, aren’t I?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And, maybe just, on an especially grey day I need not hide behind \u2018I am fine.\u2019 I can be my true self to the ones who really care to see what lies beneath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These are the ones I keep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sharmila Rao<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a child my father led me into the enriching world of books and my relationship with them continues. I am Sharmila Rao and I live in Western India in Mumbai, a hot, noisy and crowded city, vibrant enough to make you want to live nowhere else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A background of Journalism and a degree in teaching the Physically Handicapped broadened my mind and sensitized me to the imperfection of life. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I chose to be a stay-at-home Mum and enjoy the growing years of my son. My empty nest is now lined with books (I love the smell of old hardbound ones) and I sit in its warmth embracing the beauty of words.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Sharmila Rao Writing Prompt on The Isolation Journals: How ARE you? What happened yesterday evening motivated me to attempt this prompt. I dropped in to meet one of my friends whom I was seeing after a year because of the Covid protocols. She is a cancer survivor and I had gotten closer to her […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"sfsi_plus_gutenberg_text_before_share":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_show_text_before_share":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_icon_type":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_icon_alignemt":"","sfsi_plus_gutenburg_max_per_row":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1474],"tags":[1558,1404,1405,1406],"class_list":["post-10379","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-sparks","tag-sharmila-rao","tag-suleika-jaouad","tag-the-isolation-journals","tag-the-isolation-journals-project"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p43Dj8-2Hp","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10379","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10379"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10379\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10380,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10379\/revisions\/10380"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10379"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10379"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10379"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}