A little over 11 months ago my house caught fire. At that time, I was in shock. I remember the sinking feeling that I might lose everything. After everything went down, it was through this community and my friends that I was able to hold myself together and still fight.
I first stayed in the basement of my grandparent’s house, and then at a rented place. I was assuming that it was going to take a year, and with the COVID-19 pandemic, I thought it would be longer. And then two weeks ago they said the house was done.
I was visiting the place often and they would always tell us to manage our expectations. And now, this is my first post from my new-old house. I can’t believe it — I’m back. Even a majority of books that I thought were probably destroyed have been recovered. I’m at the same place where I heard the cries of ‘Fire! Fire! Get out!’
It feels surreal. It feels like I had a bad dream and awoke after 11 months. And yet, I can’t help myself learning something from this misfortune.
Life is all about struggling. There is no eternal sandy beach where you can gulp down drinks all day. Life is suffering. Life is boring. Life is full of surprises.
If this experience, along with the last couple of months, has taught me anything is that you don’t take anything for granted. Everything is temporary. Everything is in flux, and the foundation of our social institutions isn’t as sound as we once thought it was, and even if you have a home, you can be homeless the next day.
The only thing real is you, and you get to decide how you deal with shit. No one else. And that’s what I’m still grappling with. Anyway, I wanted to share this update with you. Thank you all for your continued support and for making me believe that this is all worth doing.