Coalitiō

I have been living at the place of coalitiō's co-founders for the past three months. Now, I believe it's time for me to find a place that I can call my own. Finding a house in Hyderabad isn't like walking in a supermarket to buy a shampoo. That is hard but finding a house is harder. More than options you have obstacles. I'd like an option of a balcony for my plants and like to be visited by birds but here balconies are a luxury, it is hard to even find a washroom that has a working shower. It was an entirely fresh experience for me to research on this great city.

The city is divided into old, new, and contemporary Hyderabad. The old one is where Mughals have built a Charminar and a lot of emporiums which is located at a place called Laadbazar. Then there's the new one where India's millennials reside. IT Parks, coalitiō Headquarters is somewhere in between, a place you stop by to shop or party or experience art.

Every area has its variables like budget or your gender but they all have one thing in common, they hate bachelors. Only PG (Paying Guests) owners absolutely love cramping bachelors in a small room and overcharging them. The mattresses in PGs are not tall-people friendly but the food is cockroach friendly.

If you are a woman, you pay extra for the pseudo-security. I hear my fellow female colleague moving from PG to PG with the hope of finding a place that has a reasonable curfew time and a Wi-Fi that doesn't just exist for namesake.

I have walked from area to area on foot. From Paradise circle to Hyderabad Public School, Begumpet. Searching for something that will fit in my budget and not make me feel claustrophobic but I haven't been able to find any such place. All that I have found is prejudice. My religion, my relationship status, my gender, my caste, and my food preferences matter more than whether I can pay the rent on time or not.

Websites like Waste away or 99problems are not helping either. They are everything your parents warned you about the internet. Nevertheless, food delivery apps such as Swiggy, or Uber Eats are lost in maps to find locations towards me and the house hunting with running rats in your stomach is much worse than ever imagined.

Hyderabad is a great place to live if you own a house and a vehicle. It is neither middle-class friendly nor introvert-friendly (unless you are rich). You have to compromise in one way or another. Live next to a graveyard or a noisy bridge or open sewage or stay on the fifth floor without a lift or just live in a society where you can't wear shorts outside or cook non-veg. I believe the only house hunting hack to take care of in Hyderabad is making sure your home is walking distance from the office, otherwise, you know what the infamous Hyderabad traffic does to you.

Finding a house is like finding the right sized shoe or as my female colleague says the right sized bra. But mental comfort is not affordable in Hyderabad. If you have found a good place it is probably in the suburbs like Madhapur or L.B.Nagar. Living in these areas means giving away half of my earnings to Metro or Ola or just the petrol pump.

The only good thing about the city is its weather, which is pleasant but it is deteriorating. It will soon run out of water. It is already the victim of climate change. Ultimately, Oyo or Goibibo have lifted up their rules and regulations to check in to the rooms. And while I want to do my part to save this city, I can't even save a spot where I can rest my feet at night.

A lot about our experience in a city, especially a new city that we have recently moved to, is decided by the house we live in. Cities can be scarred in your mind if the house you rent ends up giving you water, electricity, or landlord trouble. The quintessence of a home is the beholder of peace. If I have to define my home, it will be the place where I put my head to sleep every night. If a home doesn't provide me peace, I won't be able to sleep and the house misses its most basic characteristic. One part, of course, is hunting the right house, the other part mostly is what we get acquainted with only after we move. Neighbors, I leave most neighbors for some other letter, but I seriously hope you are happy and able to sleep at peace in the house you live in. Only then should you consider calling it home.

I'm sure we all have had terrible house-hunting experiences. But few end up living in private hostels, even though you need to adjust with your unfavorite food served to you. This rebuke phase we have all encountered at least once in our lifetime. When it comes on my part to suffer under the hot sun on foot to hunt for a house in each and every street is an unbearable experience to carry along. Finally, after an exhausting day, I rested myself sitting next to an old dargah and pinged to my co-founders to convince them to tolerate me for few more days to live in with them otherwise I'll curse I mentioned. And guess what, my house-hunting turned up into a new job-hunting.

Thank you for reading,

Regards,

Mukesh Kumar

Here is a story for you and choice to be made. 

There were two people 

Who fell in love and has been dating for a while, and were having a rough patch. 

She says she needs time and the guy respects what she wanted but never left her sight. 

They tried to talk but the problem was she don’t  know what to choose,

Relationship or family.

 I know many of you who are in a relationship and have doubt might have this question what to choose, few say family, cause they are the once who were with you since your young and few say relation, cause the rest of the time you are gonna live with them. 

So if you ask me I say don’t choose both.

I know you would think What is she? Is she mad? 

You have to balance it. 

In life both are something u should put as a priority there is no choice when you are  in love and you are  confused about choosing family or love. 

I agree the statement about making your family happy but aren’t you happy with the one you love? Yes you will have tough  times doesn’t mean you leave that relationship, love is all about getting back together no matter how many times you end up in trash. 

I know there is an other question. How many times should I compromise? There is not word such as compromise in love 

You give all of yours and they give all of theirs. It’s never one sided the pain you felt is also felt by the opposite person. You go back to him and he comes back to you after the bad times.

Family loves you and supports you no matter what situation you are in, but even without trying you give up on your loved ones choosing you family, of course Who am I to say that’s wrong but dint you think about the person you love when you left them?? You were the only person they had and shared things with, all those promises you made, all those memories you had what about those ? You might have complains about they dint change let it be any situation, sometimes when people change they don’t show to their loved one but the people around them would know the changes they made for you. They don’t tell because love is not about giving reasons its all about showing how much you care and be there whenever you need them your side. 

Family wishes you to be happy but not wishes you to regret. Yes you may ask what if they said no and all this love is painful in the end but ever thought what if it’s worked and you will have to never regret your whole life. 

A little hope never killed anyone. 

Trying and losing gives more satisfaction 

Than giving up and regretting. 

Family supports you and relationship strengthens your weaknesses. Both are part of life and it should be balanced.

Regards,

Isha

The comfort of familiarity. It's the only thing that stops me from getting out of it. The only thing which makes me feel at home and not wanting to jump out of the well. I know that it is BAD. I know that getting out of it will change my life forever, for good. 

It takes a great commitment to get out of the comfort zone. I'm constantly gravitated towards the old habit, though I know that it's going to eat me up one day. But the perks which come from getting out of it? Endless.

Freedom from the guilt which has been building up. Freedom from the burden of being the villain. Freedom from being a bad role model. Freedom from the sleepless nights overthinking about it. These are just some to name.

At first, it doesn't seem like a problem at all. That's only because I'm unaware of it. Only because I never gave it a thought. Only till the very minute, I start thinking about it.

IGNORE AND MOVE ON? 

It's never going to get me peace.

It feels like a big thing to achieve from far. But it is possible to come closer to it at a steady pace. Starting from the smallest thing possible will gradually build up confidence. It takes only one thing to start- 

WILLINGNESS TO DO IT. 

Blinding oneself from reality is not going to help. How would I know the solution when I can't see what the problem is? 

It's almost always hurtful to know the reality. Being aware of it and not able to do anything-- The worst (but necessary) feeling ever. Only then I would start thinking of a solution. I would be compelled to act on it.

'IT'S NOT POSSIBLE WITH ONE PERSON.'

Agreed. But why can't I be a contributor to the solution?

It feels so empowering to take even the smallest of steps. Once I'm in the right direction, there's no looking back. The fear of getting back into the pit? It is constant. But it's the best feeling ever to be a part of the good.

Letting go of my guilt a little, each day. Not to be a mere seeker, but a solver. The power of not being influenced by the past.

The discomfort of being controlled and the feeling of being helpless -- Gone forever.

This was the evolution of my relationship with him. The friend who became a foe. The boon which turned into a bane. It would've been better if I didn't allow him to get so close to me. I don't hate him now, I make peace with him.

SINGLE-USE PLASTIC.

Yeah.

Who is your toxic acquaintance?

Regards,

I have been thinking about you, you are special to me. Even though you don't really know me but we do connect somewhere in this beautiful world with all the love that profoundly showers upon us and some of you may recollect your delightful love story. My love story. The story that turned me into a virtual sanyasi. Ha. I wish there were one. Just one. But there are so many. Of how frequently love has found me and how often have I lost it.

Love first found me in the neighborhood. It lived next door. I was 6. She was 5. Her name... I don’t even remember now. Ammulu was what her mum called. All I remember is that I wanted to marry her. We’d sarcastically marry so many times, circling a coconut husk lantern seven times chanting the mantra "Om Mangalyam tantunanena Om". Once, when mum was in the kitchen, I played the melody Pehla Pyaar Hai from the film Hum Aapke Hain Kaun on the tape-recorder and attempted to imitate the sheepish romance of Salman Khan where he lifts Madhuri up in his arms from the car’s bonnet. Our wooden couch turned into a makeshift car, as I lifted her at the precise moment in the song. Just before I could have given a kiss on Ammulu’s cheek (that’s what they taught us in Bollywood!), my mum caught hold of us and pulled my ears. Signs of warnings were given. Neighborhood romance: strictly prohibited. And also no to Bollywood movies as an inspiration for love. A piece of advice I had to follow to this day. And next Rakhi, our mothers made her tie a rakhi to me. End of story.

Love found me once again when I was in grade 5. I was 10. Her name was Parimala. She was in the same school, the daughter of our English teacher Sunitha Ma’am. She spoke flawless English, similar to the speed of a rocket, and astonishingly, every time she spoke with her mother, it was in English too. Wow. I felt so green with envy and inwardly cursed my parents for being educated in the Hindi medium and poke fun at me every time I tried to talk in English with them. Bada angrez ho Gaya hai, beta. My child has become quite an Englishman, they would say. I underwent a severe inferiority complex because of Pari, but soon the complex turned into reverence. She once spoke to me, in English and after she discovered that I was not too confident, she switched to Hindi. She made me feel very comfortable. I felt possibly this is love: one who cares to cause you to feel great. One day in the class, I heard that Pari has left school. Her parents are going through a divorce. I wondered why would someone want to leave Pari’s mother, Sunitha Ma’am when she spoke such good English. Must be somebody who wouldn't be comfortable with her.

Love found me once again in grade 8, in my best friend Akshay. No, I wasn’t fascinated by him but I truly cared for him. I could die for him. I would complete his pending notes, bring extra food for him for lunch. He told me that love and friendship is about loyalty. Unconditional loyalty. Once, he stole something from our classmate Deepika’s bag. I helped him steal it, by guarding our classroom door during lunch when everyone was away. When Deepika, in tears, complained to the class teacher that her new pencil box was missing, Akshay snuck it in my bag. The teacher ordered: “Who has stolen it, stand up now, else Principal will summon.” Akshay prodded me to prove my loyalty. I stood up, received deadly beatings but felt so proud. I looked at Akshay and he gave me a smug smile. I had passed his test. I had found his approval. Maybe love is approval. When he stole again, I didn’t support him. I didn’t feel like it. I had shown my loyalty once. The thrill of being appreciated was gone. When the outcry about this stealing happened, Akshay, as usual, shoved his find into my bag. I stood up again, this time to point at Akshay. He’s the thief, I said. I lost my friend, but I had lost my care for him the last time itself. The moment his approval arrived. Love succeeds when there’s no gradient of power when there’s no need for approval. Or else, the awe & the fascination goes for a toss the moment love happens.

Love found me again in grade 11, like how it finds a nerd, in plus two Chemistry practical classes. A new student had her roll number adjacent to mine and we were unfortunately paired for conducting the practical together. She was a studious girl. I developed a feeble crush. A sterling crush that grew with every chemical reaction that would happen in front of us. I thought maybe studying intensely would impress her. I topped the exams, and, scored the highest, but she would never engage in a heart-to-heart. Before the year ended, the writer in me thought I would write, not tell. We would use a pipette to suck Copper Sulphate solution and right after every suckle, we should hand it over to the next who washed the pipette before using. At the point when she gave me the pipette, I didn’t wash, as if conveying that I didn’t mind her saliva. She hardly noticed the subtlety. She has graduated in engineering post-school while I became the so-called subtle writer. Four years later, I have asked her out, subtly. She still thinks it’s a joke. Last month, she got married. I received an invitation — a subtle joke on me.

There was this one particular love that really went beyond all these. The one in which I was immensely loved back. Profusely, passionately, with no limitation. Not for weeks, or months but years though. The one where you’re loved just so much that when love ends, you don’t even know if and how to live anymore. The one where you believe everything will be just alright only if you’re with the person but the person stops feeling that way as time passes all the way. The one where love stays with one foot out, and eager to wear shoes, and run out as soon as the opportunity presents itself. And then one day, it does so. After crying high, you accept. You let the love go, you set it free for yourselves. Only to find out that it doesn’t really want to leave you, it never wanted to, it just wanted to let go of your hold because your hold was so suffocating it. Now it’s free, free not from you, but free to love you like the way it wants to get back. You find it hard to accept. It’s easier to accept departure than accepting the return in a way, especially when it’s not returning to you the way you want. But you have no choice. You have started loving this free body that your love has become, like just floating in space; loving you in ways, and you didn’t know it could, loving you in ways you didn’t think you deserved them. It’s a cosmic shower and moreover, no need for an umbrella.

The above love stories are fun and kind of adorable in light of the fact that, in all these, there was never a time when someone loved too much — neither I nor did others. Eventually, No hearts were broken; no animals were hurt. It was driven not certainly by love but either the need for approval, a childlike curiosity for intimacy, or just too shy (or too nerdy) a desire to make them notice me. These loves make for good coffee table gossip, or for your grandchildren's bedtime tale, but would rarely seep into a novel or a long heartfelt poem. There was a heart clearly, but there was no hurt in these. There was something different, a hurt that made me a writer.

Relentlessly, It makes you feel in control. It makes you feel you understand love. But you don’t yet know if it makes you feel loved. Does it? You think and figure it’s easier to be a virtual sanyasi than to be loved.

Thank you for reading,

Regards,

Mukesh Kumar