A Space of my Own
It’s not the one you’re thinking of…
While writing this essay, I am sitting on my bed back home. At this moment, this bed is my space. It’s a space where I laze around, sleep, watch, eat, and work. It’s a space I’ve grown to love and hate. I love the comfort it brings but I also hate the ‘comfort’ it brings. It’s too comfortable and it’s stopping me from doing things that I want to do.
I’ve been looking for a space to be myself for my entire life, not just in my bedroom but in a roomful of people where we allow each other and ourselves to claim the space as our own. Without judgement or inhibitions. Maybe this is what performers do. Claim the stage as their own. But we forget, it’s still a role, isn’t it?
Finding my space is not that easy. External factors and internal dilemmas collaborate to create obstacles in my search.
The difference between our spaces
I’m from India. We’re a huge country. For a lot of us, the concept of personal space doesn’t exist. It can’t. There isn’t enough space for anybody. But there is space for those who can afford it. And then there are those for whom space doesn’t make sense. “Why do you need space? Aren’t we enough?”. I remember having a conversation with my mother years back and I told her, “I need space”. She didn’t understand. Even now she doesn’t. But she lets me be. Her love for her child matters more to her than the space between our beliefs. She already crossed the bridge in her own oblivious way. And I love her for it.
I remember going to a temple as a kid with my family. My grandmother insisted that I go deep inside the place to look at Lord Krishna’s idol. I bickered and complained but stepped into the humungous crowd. After a minute or two, I came back out frustrated, wondering the purpose behind people scrambling just for a glimpse. The walls of my comfort zone shattered while multiple people crossed the threshold of my personal space. For my grandmother, blessings from god were important. Her religious beliefs were a level above my boundaries. They still are.
Over time, I’ve understood that I don’t want to change their beliefs nor do I want them to change mine. The only thing that needs to be done is to reach a space that says, “To each his own”.
Some external factors of the past
There used to be a corner in my house hidden away behind the curtains. It was my shield from all the things that I wanted to avoid. To a child of five, it was fascinating to find a place where she believed she could ‘reflect’. I used to play with my friends hiding behind the curtains gleefully waiting to be caught by our parents. The phase didn’t last long. My house got renovated and I lost that space. It made me sad but eventually, I got over it. Because there was one reassuring thought, “At least I have my memories”.
Some internal dilemmas of the present
After battling with depression for years, I got social anxiety. There were times when I was around a group of people and it used to creep up. The only comforting thought was going back to my hostel room. That had become my safe space. I longed to be around people but I didn’t look forward to it. Not at the time.
It’ll be a while before I leave this bedroom but it doesn’t seem so daunting anymore. Experiencing social isolation for more than a year has changed things. I look forward to connecting with people outside the confines of my room.
How I’ll reclaim my space
These days I’ve been wanting to learn how to make mud houses. Sometimes living in this house feels too monotonous. And stuffy. But mud houses are different. They make you feel one with the world. Just add soil, water, air, union, earth, joy, sweat, tears, and freedom. Concrete can’t imitate that. For me, nothing else can … for now.
