I turn 43 this December, but I don’t feel my age anymore. From when I remember, I have been battling emotional wounds from childhood. The scars of this battle are now taking a toll on my health. For a long time, not making it in life for the lack of money was a concern. That was until I realized that there are bigger curve balls which life can throw at you.
I’ve been dealing with severe brain fog for a while now. It actually started many years ago—around seven, if I were to put a number on it. However, due to my foggy memory, I can’t remember exactly when. Lately, it has gotten progressively worse, to the point where I’m now undergoing treatment—not for brain fog directly, but for gut dysbiosis. Because, as I’ve learned, when your gut isn’t functioning properly, your brain doesn’t either. This type of treatment is expensive; it’s a holistic approach, involving sessions with a nutritionist, a psychologist, and a gastroenterologist who specializes in functional medicine. I’ve also been learning a lot about my condition from online resources. Let me try to break down my experience with brain fog, and what I can attribute it to. I might end up all over the place. But bear with me, because it feels important.
First, let me explain what it’s like to live with brain fog.
You can’t recall things when you need to.
Your working memory suffers.
Everything feels like a cognitive burden.
Focusing and completing tasks becomes a struggle.
Your mood and motivation fluctuate.
You feel constantly tired.
I’m sure there are other symptoms I’ve missed, but let me assure you that these by themselves are pretty daunting. And yes, I have made a classic mistake of attributing this to laziness among other things (such as ADHD and depression).
So, what causes this? There can be a multitude of reasons. You can watch this video for an overview of potential causes. In my case, it appears to be a complex mix of stress, gut dysbiosis, lack of exercise, and childhood trauma. To be honest, I don’t know the exact cause, but through my research and conversations with mental health and alternative medicine experts, these seem like likely contributors.
The challenge in addressing these causes is that they’re deeply interconnected. But what led me here? Let me try to break that down in this post (this is where I attempt to tie the different threads together).
It all started with an unhappy childhood. I’ve always hesitated to use the word “trauma” because, to me, trauma implies extreme, distressing events. In my case, it was more about the emotional harm caused by caregivers with poor parenting skills. Ironically, none of it was done with ill intent, which made it difficult for me to talk about. But the adult me now recognizes patterns where my own emotions were ignored, and I was constantly judged, criticised, and compared to others. My childhood memories only have themes such as overprotection and control, excessive pressure and expectations, negligence of my emotional needs, lack of affirmation, projection of unresolved issues, and overemphasis of other people’s achievements. This might sound typical of an Indian middle-class household, and my parents likely weren’t better or worse than average. Life is such that every child, grows up in a unique environment. Generalisations are good only to make you appear intellectual in online posts. So, let’s not chalk it up to, “Oh, this is India, and parents just prepare their kids for a competitive world.”
When the “project” of life starts on the wrong foot, there’s a high chance of future complications. However, I can’t say my life was a disaster. On the surface, I coasted through childhood, youth and adulthood without revealing inner scars. I graduated, got a job and did what a son should to do to “settle down.” But all this was because I internalised my emotional wounds. And it took a toll on my body. But the body has an incredible capacity to heal—provided it’s in the right environment.
In my case, I was healing, but also hurting. Poor gut health has always plagued me. Various other life events affected me, though time was the healer for most of them. I will not get into the details here. But in the process of living, my awareness of life’s complexities grew. I did both direct and indirect inner work. There was acceptance. There was spiritual growth. And I developed my own ways of escaping from a reality I wasn’t ready to face. I somehow managed a delicate balance between hurting and healing. But the root trauma remained.
For the sake of brevity, let’s skip ahead to the final part of my story—by “final,” I mean closest to my current reality. In this reality, my body and mind desperately need healing. The sprint to my breaking point was accelerated because I deprived my body the right conditions to do the balancing act.
This neglecting of the body started when I moved to Udupi in 2022. There, I discovered a new kind of happiness. For the first time, I was living life on my terms. I felt free, empowered, fulfilled, and, above all, alive. But it all came at a cost—my health. Living alone, my diet was compromised. Udupi’s extreme climate—with intense heat, humidity, and rain—caught me unprepared. On the surface, I was coping, but my health suffered quietly.
I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep due to the heat. My meals did not have variety because I prioritised convenience over nutrition. I fell ill with dengue and later a viral infection. I developed joint problems. I was constantly drinking water straight from the well to combat dehydration. After the rains, mold was everywhere in my house. My life became a cycle of constant travel between Bangalore and Udupi. The body handles external stress less efficiently as you grow old. Maybe my younger self would have handled this better. But that time had passed. My brain started to feel extremely sluggish in Udupi itself. I felt unusual fatigue in my body. But I managed to chug along, till things started falling apart last year.
The stress of my job—the very thing that enabled me to leave Bangalore for Udupi became very real when my company was acquired in November 2023. This introduced job insecurity and the looming threat of being forced out of my little bubble of happiness. The worst part was having to return to two things I detested most—a chaotic, deteriorating city ,and close proximity to the person who had inflicted deep emotional wounds on me. So while none of these were stressors directly related to my job, they were because of it (and because of how I was conditioned to look at breadwinning from childhood).
From November 2023 to September 2024, my brain had a lot to handle. I’ve omitted some details for brevity, but these major events have greatly contributed to my body’s inability to heal in the backdrop of a larger, more continual trauma. I started the healing process in September 2024, but it seems like the journey is going to be a long one. I have just begun to understand the probable causes of my brain fog and the gut-brain axis. Treating gut dysbiosis involves altering food habits and making lifestyle changes.
Growing up, money seemed like the obstacle to a fulfilling life. We had enough to live comfortably as a middle-class Indian family, but my wide-ranging interests and zest for exploration often felt stifled by financial limitations. I tried to fix that by holding onto well paying jobs that I didn’t particularly enjoy, because I needed the financial stability. But today, looking back, I realize that money—whether you have it or not—means little without the essentials: healthy relationships, a support structure, a healthy body, and a functioning brain. All of these are so interconnected that if one piece falters, a larger breakdown becomes inevitable.
If you face similar issues, and the doctor has used the catch-all word, “Stress,” here are some videos that you can watch to understand what may be going on:
In April 2024, the company I worked for asked all its remote employees to return to the office (RTO). They gave us a deadline of two months for this. I had moved to a tier 2 city two years ago, because the same company said remote work is the future.
Moving out was one of the best decisions of my life. Having lived in Bangalore since 2003, I have witnessed the city deteriorate to a point where only a fat paycheck or a misplaced sense of regionalism can make you love what the once Garden City has now become. Locals blame outsiders. The current government blames the previous one. The left wing and right wing blame each other. But is this really the reason for the high rent, dug-up roads, lack of water, and unsolvable traffic jams? Let’s look deeper.
So where does one start when looking for a rental property in Bangalore? Let me list the options first. And then, in Part 2 of this blog post, talk about why each option is worse than the other.
House Hunting Options
You have the following ways of finding a house in Bangalore:
Approaching a broker
Approaching a rental management company
Browsing the plethora of Facebook groups
Signing up for a paid account on Magicbricks
Signing up for a paid account on NoBroker
Looking up free websites like 99Acres, Housing.com, or Makaan
Scanning your preferred neighborhood for To-Let boards
Looking for options on your company’s internal messaging groups
Having tried all of these options, I can safely say that there is not one guaranteed approach to land a house. You have to try multiple options and be prepared to go into battle. Why?
The Topology of the Battleground
In any battle, there are a minimum of two sides. Generally, battles are fought because one of the two parties has something to gain, but every battle has a facilitator. A cunning general or statesman who creates the necessary situation for two parties to fight (USA?).
In the landscape of the rental market, the house owner and house seeker are the two parties in the battle. The broker, the politician, and the gossiping neighborhood uncle/aunty are the scheming facilitators of this battle.
For a house owner, renting a house is a simple act of finding a tenant, fixing a price, the terms of tenancy, and sitting back to watch money come into the bank every month.
For a house seeker, renting a house is a simple act of finding a beautiful house in a preferred location and slogging away because house rent is the black hole into which a bulk of your salary disappears.
So who are these cunning people making this difficult?
The Broker
A broker (agent or dealer) makes money from a rental sale from two parties – the house owner and tenant. It is in the broker’s best interest to price the property 5-10% more than the going rate. After all, neither the land, nor the responsibility of owning it, is on the broker. All they have to do is connect two interested parties – and voila, they gets paid 1 months rental from two parties. Why would they make it better for anyone but themselves?
If you see insane house rents in Bangalore, blame it on these brokers. They have no ethics, professionalism, or love for you. They don’t even bother to share good photos/videos of the properties to save you a visit. In my own experience, I have been asked to come to a location by a broker, only to be ghosted. I have been yelled at for not mentioning my requirements clearly. I have watched the same property being priced higher by a broker than the owner on the same rental website. I have read stories how they take an advance and stop returning calls. They will do anything to make a killing.
The Gossiping Aunty/Uncle
These people, usually retired or nearing retirement, have the privileged responsibility of spreading information about who is receiving how much rent in the neighbourhood. Imagine this scenario – it is morning time in a local park. A bunch of senior citizens, who have supposed to have come for a walk – are sitting and talking.
One starts by saying how his property, which he bought for 3 lakhs in 1990, is now worth 3 crores. Another uncle, who is jealous, makes up a story of how he is receiving a rent of 40k per month for his house (which, by the way, has no woodwork, has no car park, and is facing seepage issues). Now it is the turn of another uncle. He has no property of his own. So he makes up a story of how these bachelors living in a house nearby are behaving in an uncivil manner. They party every night. Mixing of genders is common, he says. Uncle seeks pleasure in inducing fear in the mind of his park friends. Yet another uncle – whose kids are well settled abroad and who has no use for rental money – is feeling very left out. So he narrates a story of how his neighbour tenant’s dog is creating a menace in the neighbourhood. He speaks in a baritone about how it barked at a child the other day, and the child ended up with a fever. He, of course, does not brings up the small detail that the same child used a toy water gun to torment the poor dog.
If you think I am making up stuff – you are much out of touch with reality. Because these are situations from life – only rearranged to make it sound like it happened in a park the other day.
After this session of gossip, Uncle X wants to raise the rent of his house by 50%. Uncle Y wants to kick out his bachelor tenant. And Uncle Z vows never to rent to anyone who has a pet. And the other uncle who missed this morning gossip session would anyway only rent out his house to a pure vegetarian who is from one of the upper castes. He is btw, the president of the Apartment Welfare Association.
Don’t believe me? Try mentioning the word ‘Bachelor’ and ‘Pet’ in the same sentence when you speak to a potential house owner.
The Politician
These citizens of India are the most vile and cunning of the lot. The politician I am referring to is not a certain Modi – the default punching bag for all of India’s problems. No, I mean everybody from the local corporator to the BDA chief to the current government’s chief of chiefs – who, by the way, the media is so forgiving of.
These ‘public servants’ have the muscle power to drown the voice of a common citizen. The politician’s job is to prepare the battleground between ordinary Indians who have aspirations. All the controversies that politicians churn out, and which the media loves to cover, is just a decoy. Politicians are the ones who own prime property in the city. While you are busy supporting your favourite party in the upcoming elections, full time real estate businessmen are busy influencing MNCs to ask employees to return to office. They are the ones deciding on the going rate in the important areas. India has been, and will forever be, at the mercy of zamindars. Some just have a side gig as politicians these days.
Despite taxing the IT professionals and IT companies heavily, we get nothing in return. Politicians dole out freebies to other able bodied men and women in return for votes. Of course, this is not the face that they show you. They come with folded hands when seeking votes and promise to fix all your problems which you have been bringing up since the Hubble telescope went into space.
Imagine a city where these people did their job. Apartments would come up only in areas that are well planned. You would not have to drive through narrow roads while negotiating potholes and open drains. Potable water would be flowing through your taps. Yes, there would be traffic because of the sheer density of population, but signals would be synchronised to allow free movement for a longer distance. And, if you lived in ORR, you would not have to fear getting mugged when returning home after the late-night code check-in.
You, the honest tax-paying citizen, can enjoy monsoon weekends from the comfort of your balcony, without having to worry about the neighborhood lake, which your builder encroached upon, breaching. Imagine how beautiful this life could be! You can finally stop scrolling Instagram reels and enjoy reality.
How to Prepare for Battle
Now that we have identified the key elements in the battle ground, let us see how to prepare for war. In the next part, I will talk about the pros and cons of each of the previously mentioned options for house hunting in Bangalore. It is a war, remember? You need to be armed with knowledge to win it.
Till then, you can mull over who really destroyed the city – the locals or the outsiders.
Everyone of us has a relationship with this one thing in our lives. And that relationship needs a lot of work. It is a complicated relationship which very few have learned how to deal with. It has ruined men, women, families, kingdoms, societies and right now it is ruining this planet.
The relationship I am talking about is the one we have with money. A person’s relationship with money is intimate, yet complicated. We are taught many things in our childhood, but no one really teaches us how to have a good relationship with money. We watch our parents, and other people and learn how to deal with money. Sometimes this learning is good, and sometimes it gets us nowhere. This post is about the complicated relationship I have with money, and how it started getting messy.
On the outside I am a professionally successful salaried individual. With the kind of money that hits the bank account at the end of every month, I cannot complain about my lower middle class upbringing. Maybe I have managed to move up the social hierarchy by an inch. Maybe I am now upper middle class. I honestly don’t know. Because, the truth is that on the inside, the pursuit of money has left me with a void that I don’t know how to fill. I have insecurities around my bank balance, and my interpersonal relationships have taken a hit due to misplaced priorities.
I grew up in a nuclear, middle class family in the 80s, in a big metro city down South. My dad was a hard working, salaried employee. His family was large. When he lost his job at the prime of his career, his siblings were there for him. He sailed though it emotionally, although it hit us financially. But me? It shook up my world and I had nobody to talk to about. Being the only child, I only had friends to share my life with. And the lack of money in the household meant that I was slowly distancing myself from friends. Thus began my complicated relationship with money.
If you look up what they say about Saggitarians, you’ll read that we free spirits without a care for material possessions. We don’t like money as much as we like the idea of what money can do for us. My life’s mantra has always been ‘experience more.’ So when I asked my parents pocket money, it wasn’t to go waste it on eating out or watching movies like my friends in school did. It was to see what it is that they enjoyed about eating out and watching movies. So once I knew what it was about, I could move on. Unfortunately I never got the pocket money to understand that. And thus, my experience about many things in life was stunted.
We never could afford a car for a very long time. When my dad finally got one in his new job, it was taken away in a few months by the people who had loaned money to the company he had just joined, because they had defaulted. I never did foreign trips. Never saw the inside of a plane till my first job (interview). Hardly hung out in malls. I had a huge fight with my parents for my first walkman. My dad constantly criticised me for buying audio tapes although music was my solace and escape from a world I couldn’t fit into. To top it all, my parents were forever tying good marks to money, and telling me that if I don’t do well in school, I would be a failure for life.
I was never keen on sports, but my parents forced me to attend tennis and swimming classes. As a teenager, I wanted to learn music, but my parents wanted me to take tuitions instead. Finally, I was forced into studying engineering in a college located in a remote village, because that was what my parents wanted for me. My professionally unsuccessful father was trying to dictate how I should live life based on his failures, which in my opinion was dumb.
Meanwhile, my friends from school were getting dropped to school in cars, eating samosas and chat in the evening after school and making merry on weekends hanging out in malls. They didn’t have to worry about good grades, because they knew their parents had money to send them abroad, or they would take up family businesses. By the time they graduated to college, they were driving their own cars, hanging out in pubs, playing pool, and generally doing everything which society deemed as cool. Why did I have such friends? It was because my parents put me in a school with wealthy kids. I had concluded as a young person that not having enough money was the root cause of all the unhappiness in the world.
When I got my first job, I was thrilled that I no longer had to ask my parents for money. I was excited that I could finally do what I wanted to do with MY own money. And I had a big backlog of experiences which I had missed out on, to explore with MY own money. Thus began the second phase of my difficult relationship with money.
What nobody tells you, and what you will only figure out if you are smart enough, is that a country’s economy can be kept running only if there is a critical mass of people in the rat race of earning a salary. You and I are part of that critical mass, and will stay there forever unless we take on some risks. Found a job after college? Time to gets started with EMIs to keep you tied to that job for long. Happy that you got a better job? Inflation will catch up in no time and your 20% hike will soon mean nothing. Kids settled down and one thing less to worry about? Medical bills will bring you back to reality. Basically, earning a salary = being a slave for life.
When I got my first salary, I was so happy that I could live life on MY own terms because I was finally earning MY own money. I couldn’t ream of trading that freedom for anything else. I didn’t have to listen to what my parents said anymore. After those pay checks starting hitting the bank account, I couldn’t look beyond them. The money I was earning was the only solid foundation I ever had in life. All the years before that were nothing but a nightmare with no beautiful memories. So, I played safe when it came to my career. Holding on to my job was the most important thing. By god’s grace and some luck, I managed to move from one good organisation to another. Playing safe meant that my skills, personal branding, and street smartness were all stunted. I lived in a cocoon whose walls were only as thick as my bank balance.
There is a phrase, which goes like this: “A Salary is the Drug They Give You to Forget Your Dreams.” I was on this drug too, and it was pretty potent because what I earned was disproportionate to my personal (not career) ambitions. All I ever wanted was to have enough money to experience things in life I never got a chance to experience as a child.
When my marriage failed, it meant that I didn’t have a child’s future to worry about. The more I earned, the more I managed to spend in spite of not having the regular responsibilities of people of my age. My priorities in life were totally messed up because the effects of the drug was pretty damaging.
But every drug addicted soon realises that he is only fooling himself and to the world, by hiding from the truth. By the time I had this realisation it was too late. It was too late for me to leave my job for higher education or upskilling. It was too late in my life to untangle myself from the corporate web. It was too late to go from earning a fixed amount at the end of the month to not drawing a salary (to start a business, or study further).
I never had a high opinion about my parents because I never saw either of them achieve anything worthwhile. Yes, they did all they could to provide for me – but when they expected me to be someone I am not, why shouldn’t I have excepted the same form them? When I look at people around me, acting entitled because of their family wealth, I only wonder how different my life would have been if I had some financial security from my parents. I laugh at all those inspirational stories where kids praise their parents for making them what they are. For me, my parents were mediocre, clueless individuals. They neither accomplished anything in life, nor let me do what I wanted to.
Although I put my parents into the same bucket, they were both different individuals. And their shortcomings had a nuclear fusion like effect on me. My dad was hardworking , straightforward, and generally well liked in the family, but he had a terrible temper. My mom is an animated lady, who can never stop talking about how much someone else has, or what someone else is up to (even now). Unfortunately, in spite of all the talk, she has never had the courage to take up a job or lead from the front, in any sphere of life. To me, my dad’s temper and mom’s animated nature outshone anything positive about them.
At this point, you may have concluded that my complicated relationship is not with money, but with my parents. If my parents had told me, “son, these are your strengths. Focus on them, and you will achieve something in life,” I would have probably focused on what I have, instead of what I don’t. But instead, my parents always said, “Son, money is important and we don’t have enough of it. You better do what we say, because you are no good at x,y,z.” I am sure that like my parents, many other parents have said or done things based on the insecurity around money.
Thankfully, I have reached a stage in life where I theoretically know what options salaried people like me have to grow money (think equities). I also no longer feel like I have missed out on things in life because I have spent a lot of time following my passion of travel and photography. I still have a long way to go before money can start giving me a sense of security, and fulfilment. If it ever happens, I will truly believe that I have rearranged the equation I have with my bank balance.
I brought my outdoor cat Smokey with me when I moved out to Bangalore to Udupi. This is my letter to her, which she will never read. Not only because she cannot, but because she is lost. It has been 3 months now and my eyes still grow moist when I think about her. Read about my move in this blog post.
Dear Smokey,
June 6th 2022 is a day I will never forget. It was the day I lost you. I go to bed with a heavy heart every night, thinking about where you might be, and how you might be managing your food and shelter.
For two years, I watched out for you every single day in Bangalore. You were never a clingy cat, like the ones on the internet. Deep inside I like to believe that you loved me back, although it was only at meal times that you would come running towards me. This may sound like a very transactional relationship, but your presence filled so many voids in my life. Now that you are gone, there is a new void which will never be filled.
I don’t speak the feline language yet, but you were a very expressive cat right from when you were a kitten. You never hesitated to sing the song of your people, which made you very unique. You had a wide vocabulary and I was trained to understand what you wanted to say – whether it was demanding food, protesting when I squished you, complaining when I brought you indoors or being stealth when there were other cats who you wanted to hide from, in the basement. You did not have even one mean bone in your body. I have never seen you behave aggressively, unlike your mother, Lucy.
You were also a bundle of contradictions – skittish, but adamant about wanting to be outdoors. Talkative, but unfriendly towards humans. Innocent, yet adventurous. I never held any of this against you because I knew you had feral genes. There was never a dull day with you around.
Smokey loved to stand between my feet after her food, when she was a kitten. She outgrew that phase pretty quickly though.
I don’t know if you remember your childhood days, but two years ago, when you were still a baby, your ginger sibling died of dehydration in the apartment basement. You were innocently sitting beside a stoic Lucy, watching him take shallow, difficult breaths. I came down to check on you and your siblings when I saw him in that condition. I immediately took him to the vet where he was administered drips. The doctor told me to take him home, and I stayed up all night hoping he would make it. But he didn’t. That is the day I decided to start feeding you and Lucy, because I did not want food to be a want in your lives. Lucy never misses a meal, even now. She continues to be a disciplined, albeit an aloof cat who promptly shows up in the morning and evening at her usual feeding place.
So much happened in your life in the two years I knew you. Your occasional disappearance used to freak me out. Then I got used to it. One time, you were gone for two days and I found you in the nearby street, confused. You responded to my call, which makes me believe that you were trying to find your way back. And then, you got electrocuted earlier this year.
After your stint at the hospital, Lucy and you grew apart. With this estrangement, I foolishly believed that I am all that you had in this world. I brought you along with me to Udupi hoping you could become an indoor cat where you could be safe.
There are certain protocols to be followed when relocating a cat, especially feral ones. I had done my homework and I believed I knew what I was doing. But theory is different from reality – and I just didn’t have it in me to cage you to break your will during the transition period.
Smokey (kitten) and Lucy in May 2020
Lucy nursing Smokey – the only kitten which survived from the litter
After your disappearance from my new house in Udupi, I looked eveywhere and spoke to so many people in the neighbourhood. Most of them believed that you must have succumbed to a python or a dog attack. Now, it has been three months since your disappearance. I don’t even know if you are alive, or dead.
A large, comfortable cage which I fitted inside my car to transport Smokey to Udupi
Smokey getting cosy on her long car journey
Smokey enjoying the views of Agumbe GhatWith large expressive eyes, Smokey had a lot of characterThe Thompson twins whom Smokey was terrified of, in Bangalore
Before that fateful day of Jun 6th, you escaped twice from the new house. I was mildly amused by your ingenuity. Of course I was aware of how stressed you must be with a change in place and routine. I believe I had taken the necessary precautions for the trip and your new life by consulting your vet in Bangalore and buying cat calming products.
The second night, when you escaped by opening the sliding window which was locked, I was dumfounded by your resourcefulness. But you did not go far after you escaped. You were within the compound, so it gave me the false hope that you would hang around even if I let you out.
I wanted to tell you how you were at your best behaviour the night before you disappeared – You were quietly sitting by the window and watching the world outside. In Bangalore, every time I got you home, you would bawl your head off wanting to be let out and I would be forced to leave you downstairs, out of frustration. For a few hours that evening, you weren’t vocalising. This is my best memory of you, albeit the last one.
Smokey hated to be indoors and would bawl her head offA video of Smokey trying to break free from my house in Udupi
When I did not find you after opening the door at 7 am, it felt like I was punched in the gut. That feeling hasn’t gone away ever since because you have not come back.
For the first few days after your disappearance, I thought you would find your way back. I left your litter tray outside. After a few days, I went asking about you door to door. Two neighbours, about 3-4 houses away, told me that they saw you on June 9th. I was so relieved. But, you never came back. Every night, I would wake up even at the slightest sound thinking it was you. I set up CCTVs to ensure that I did not miss you, if you were to retrace your steps.
After about 10 days, I learnt that you went further away. By then, I had expanded my search by studying Google maps and studying possible places where you might have wandered off. I was new to the area, so I shared my findings with a neighbour who said he would help me with the search. Unfortunately, he didn’t show up on the Sunday when we were to go look for you further away. Coincidently, someone had seen you that day, as I was to learn later when I went asking myself. Imagine how I felt, when I learnt that.
A kind aunty who saw you last, identified you by your picture. She fed you milk. I know you don’t like milk, but perhaps you were very hungry and drank it. When I think of you being hungry, I break down. I always fed you the best of cat food. I ensured you were neutered and your vaccinations where up to date. When you were in the hospital, recovering from the electrocution, I visited you every single day for 21 days. I made sure you got the best treatment. And now? I don’t even know where you are and how you are managing your food.
Smokey recovering from her burn wounds in Pampapathi vet clinic, in January 2022
I may never get the closure I need. I may never see you again. I don’t even know if you are alive and well, or starving and sick. Or dead. I am sorry, Smokey. I am sorry I displaced you from Bangalore. I only wanted you to be indoors and safe. You were in my thoughts for every decision I took. I never, ever, intended to hurt you.
You know what, Smokey, I don’t miss Bangalore at all, in spite of having lived there for 17 years. I left out of my own choice. Unfortunately, I brought you along to Udupi against yours. In the process of trying to mend my life, I ended up ruining yours. How can I ever get over this?
———————————–
Epilogue
The relationship we share with our pets is very personal. At one end of the spectrum, pet parents think of their cats or dogs are babies (that never grow up). On the other end of the spectrum, there are people who think that an animal is a toy that you can buy (and discard or ignore).
When I moved to Udupi, I was shocked to see my neighbour keeping their dog tied 24/7 (only taking him for walk in the morning and evening). Worse, they got another pup – a doberman – only to keep him tied too. When I asked them why they keep their dogs tied all day, they said it is because otherwise the dogs would run away.
I haven’t come across anyone here, in Udupi (or any small town in India) who keeps cats indoors forcefully. This is quite the opposite of what pet parents do in the city, and for good reason. In Bangalore, from what I have seen, both dogs and cats are pampered for sure. But cats are kept indoors much against their wishes, while dogs are taken to parks and on road trips.
Coming from a city, I thought of my neighbours as cruel, because they keep the dog tied all day. I thought I was giving my cat her freedom when I let her go outside like she wanted. But now, as my neighbour’s dog grows weak in his chains, I am in no position to judge his parents because of what happened to Smokey.
Each animal is different in the way they respond to humans. A true pet parent offers affection and care without expecting anything in return. All I ever wanted was for Smokey to be safe. She was never a lap cat. Unlike purring kittens, Smokey used to run away from me when she was young. She hated to stay indoors, at home. Yet I loved her. We may project our maternal/paternal feelings on our pets, but the reality is that animals have a limited understanding of this big bad world. They act out instinct. Their behaviour is based on self-preservation, fear, and need for food.
Eventually, most of us will outlive our pets. As pet parents, we have to prepare for it mentally. But, the circumstances under which Smokey came into my life, and left, has left a deep wound. I feel guilt. I feel regret. I feel remorse. I feel anger. I failed to safeguard a precious, innocent animal who meant no harm to anyone. And I don’t even know whom to ask for forgiveness.
A panoramic drone view of the area where Smokey went missing. With a forest on either side, and a huge paddy field on one side, she couldn’t have gone far. But yet, it has been three months and hasn’t come back.
In June 2022 I left Bangalore for good. I moved to the coastal town of Udupi. This decision which was largely possible because of the remote work options which many IT companies, including mine, provided after the COVID-19 pandemic.
I had modest expectations from my move. I wanted a simple, stress-free life. I love photography (and travel!) but staying in Bangalore wasn’t helping me with my passion. With the city’s infrastructure crumbling, it is almost impossible to go out and spend quality time in nature.
In this blog post I outline the background to my decision, how I went about executing the move, and how a change of place did more harm than good in certain aspects.
Foreword
This world is big. Bigger than our minds can fathom. When we are young, we are inquisitive about the vastness of this world. But at that age, we have very little access to this big world, so we revel in small joys of discovery. As we grow older, we have the means to see more, but most of us end up shrinking our worlds. We lose our curiosity, and work hard to build walls. The big world is no longer accessible to us because we have cut ourselves out.
It is also safer to follow a template when growing up. Education, studies, job, marriage, kids…..it’s all hunky dory till something bad happens. And that is when you learn some lessons in life, and hopefully become a better version of yourself. With me, I don’t know if things go wrong because I am always striving to become a better version of myself, or because I am an idiot.
As we age, being ‘responsible’ becomes the most important duty of life. In the process of taking responsibility of our lives and our loved ones, we get pushed and pulled by forces not in our control. We also start processing change, grief, loss and other difficult emotions which life throws at us, very differently.
Some of us are lucky to take charge of our lives from these external factors. But some internal factors also decide how we sail our ships as we navigate through life. We make decisions based on:
What brings us happiness
What keeps us away from negative emotions which we cannot handle
Greed and ambition which drive us
Personal insecurities that we carry from childhood
Bottom line is, adulthood is all about balancing external and internal forces which push and pull us in all directions.
However, these personal life experiences of mine have shaped me in a way where I now no longer relate to a conventional way of life. Irrespective of how we see our lives, the common thread which unites us all is the realization that our lives come with an expiry date. For some, this realization is yet to come. For others like me, it has already dawned and my urge to see and experience more has only increased. But what does all this have to do with me moving out of Bangalore?
Why did I move?
During the pandemic, a lot of us started to work from home permanently. Once the pandemic was no longer killing enough people, the concept of workation became main stream. Remote work, which many of my Western counterparts in my company always benefited from, even before COVID-19, was suddenly opened up to Indians. Combine that with a vacation, and you have a workation. But vacations don’t last long. That is why I decided to permanently move out of Bangalore.
A shift in HR policy was what I was waiting for to set the ball rolling. I would have left home right after college 20 years ago. Unfortunately, I did not have the means to do so then, and being the only child, I was always emotionally coerced into doing what my parents wanted me to do.
After facing all the ups and downs which life brings, including death of a parent, divorce, a layoff etc, I finally decided it was now or never. I also had the monetary resources to execute this decision now. To map this to what I had mentioned earlier:
Right from a young age, staying connected with nature has what brought me happiness. I love to watch birds, cats, dogs, trees, rains, sunshine etc. to pass my time. Weekend trips from Bangalore to get a dose of fresh air were getting increasingly difficult thanks to the poor infrastructure.
The daily grind of city life can evoke a lot of negative emotions and stress in any one, and I seized the first opportunity to leave that behind. The paradox of living in a city like Bangalore is that you have access to all the comforts of life. But the happiness tax that you pay to live here is rather unreasonable. There are very few ways to de-stress in Bangalore without spending money. I didn’t want to deal with this anymore.
My greed and ambition luckily or unluckily has nothing to with my professional life. All I expect from my job is a sense of financial security. My company’s policies were tweaked to allow work from anywhere after the pandemic which worked in my favour.
Amongst my insecurities, the one which I wanted to face and overcome was the one of having to fend for myself. I had no prior experience of cooking before moving out from Bangalore. I knew that the only way I could train myself in the kitchen was to stay by myself.
A lot of folks whom I spoke to were very excited for me. I was going to do which many of them could only dream of doing. The grass is always greener on the other side, as they say. A few are ready to jump over the fence to go over to the other side – and here I was, going to do just that.
Planning the Move
Udupi, is a town which most Indians would be aware of because it is associated with good South Indian food. So, even if you don’t know where it is on the map, you must have seen or heard of an Udupi (or Udipi) restaurant in your town.
The decision of moving out wasn’t the toughest part. Figuring out how to, was. I would have loved to chuck all my worldly possessions and start afresh, but in reality I had to take them with me to Udupi. And I couldn’t break the continuity of my professional life. It wasn’t like I could take a week or two off, move lock stock and barrel, and then get on with office work as usual. I had to move in phases.
Finding Accommodation
I looked up rental properties on Olx and FB, and connected with a few property brokers (again, whom I found on these two platforms). Unfortunately, the concept of rentals isn’t popular in Coastal Karnataka (as much as it is in Goa), and many house owners hesitate to rent to bachelors. Staying in Bangalore and looking for a house in a different region wasn’t easy either. I guess I just got lucky finding finding a house via an ad on Facebook Marketplace. It is 15km from heart of the city, and 5km off the highway which goes towards Kundapur. Now that I have actually lived in it for a few months, I can say that is meets most of my expectations.
My house owner is a government servant who lives close to Kundapur. He purchased this house just after it was constructed, and never actually occupied it, because he has his own place in a government quarters. I was happy to be the first one to occupy the place, because most houses don’t age very well in the Coast. When the quality of construction is poor, or if the house is not well maintained, the tropical climate takes a toll on the building very quickly. This fact was corroborated by some older houses which a local broker showed me.
Setting up the House
Once I zeroed in on the house, I had to decide how to set it up. I ended up having to buy basic furniture, and items for the kitchen. I had no experience in cooking, so my mom’s expertise in that matter helped. I purchased most of the items in Bangalore, and transported them to Udupi myself.
I made several car trips between Bangalore and Udupi, transporting what I had already owned, and some household goods and furniture which I purchased new. I bought a lot of stuff on Ikea because their website displays the exact dimensions of not only the product, but also the box in which the product comes. This helped me pick exactly what would fit inside the car. There wasn’t an Ikea store in Bangalore then, and they did not deliver outside of a few metro cities, so I had to do this.
I already owned a computer and study table, which surprisingly fit in the boot of my Maruti Vitara Brezza. So, the on my first trip, I moved my tables, and household goods which I purchased in Bangalore. On the second trip, I moved a lot of furniture which I purchased online on Ikea.
Except for some small hiccups due to external factors, things went as per plan. Every trip which I made by car, with a boot full of stuff, was an adventure. It takes around 7-8 hours on the road to reach Udupi and every minute you spend on an Indian road is an exposure to risk. After the third road trip, I started to feel like a truck driver. Apart from the car trips, I also rode my newly purchased KTM 390 Adv motorcycle to Udupi.
After every journey to Udupi, I had to set up the things which I had brought with me. Again, I did all of this by myself. April, May, June is peak summer and the heat along the coast is brutal. So driving 8 hours, reaching an empty house and then setting it up wasn’t exactly easy.
I purchased large furniture like a cot, diwan, and wardrobe locally. They were cheaper than online furniture stores, and transporting them to my house from the shop wasn’t an issue. I rented a refrigerator and washing machine for a period of 11 months – which is the duration of my rental agreement. Both appliances weren’t exactly in great condition, but they do the job.
On my penultimate drive from Udupi to Bangalore, my car broke down after hitting a dog on the highway. Luckily, I wasn’t carrying a lot of luggage because I was returning to Bangalore. The speed at which the dog ran into my car did not give me any time to react, so the roadkill was something I just couldn’t avoid.
It took me 4 hours to find a tow truck and another 3 hours to get my car towed to the nearest Maruti service centre in the outskirts of Bangalore. The delay in getting my car back from the garage scuttled my plans quite a bit. Although I did claim insurance, I had to pay towing charges amounting to ₹8000 from my pocket.
Looking back, moving goods on my own is not something I would want to do again. The next time I move houses, I’d rather hire packers and movers to do the job. Since this was the first time I was moving cities in 17 years, I did it the way I did it.
I had to set up the house not just to my liking, but also to accommodate Smokey, my cat. I put a lot of thought into how I would transport, and accommodate her in the new place. I also read up on how to prepare her for the journey and life in a new place.
A Day in My New Life
The rhythm of daily life generally revolves around one’s profession, family, and then hobbies, if there is any time left for it. A day in my new life revolves around the weather. When I moved in, it was summer and extremely hot. I tried to finish most of the household work before 10 am. Then came monsoon, where it would rain continuously for days on end. That is when I started a new hobby of watching TV, something I never did in Bangalore. Fortunately, the rains brought down the temperature to a point where I could run the fan at the lowest speed. Rainy days were frustrating because I barely got a chance to step out. I eagerly awaited dry evenings to visit the beach or explore some new locations for photography. Now that the monsoon of 2022 is almost over, I look forward to winter when I can become a regular at some of the places of natural beauty near my home.
On most days, I sit for work by the door, watching the the slow pace of life outside. It is very silent around me, and the birds are the noise-makers. I have peacocks, bulbuls, ashy prinias, parakeets, sun birds and grey horn-bills to watch out for. It has been more than 2 decades, living in a ground floor house and I enjoy stepping out barefoot and feeling the earth when I feel like it.
There is nothing glamorous about this life. A large part of the day goes in cooking meals, apart from attending meetings and doing my day job which pays the bills. I purchased an electric pressure cooker (not an electric rice cooker) which really brought out the master chef in me. Jokes apart, I learnt, rather quickly, how to cook simple food which I enjoy eating. On most days, I consume freshly cooked home food which satisfies my taste buds.
There is nothing I miss about Bangalore, either. I was never the types to go out to expensive restaurants or hang out in malls anyway. For purchasing household goods, I head out into town and finish my work effortlessly. I don’t have to worry about traffic jams, parking troubles, or avoiding old uncles who ride their scooters in the middle of the road.
A Life for a Life
Smokey was a Covid kitty, born during the lockdown of the first phase of Covid-19. She grew up in the security of my apartment basement, and under the watchful eyes of Lucy, her mother. For every day of the last two years, either my mom or me made sure that Lucy and Smokey were fed twice a day. I tried to domesticate Smokey several times by bringing her indoors in my apartment in Bangalore. But she hated it. The only attempt to get her adopted when she was around 6 months failed, because her adopter couldn’t handle her incessant crying and returned her to me. She was the same adamant cat, even after 2 years. The only place Smokey wanted to be, was the basement of my apartment. This was ironical, because Smokey was extremely skittish, and was constantly worried about Tom cats stealing her food. Her only defense was to run and hide. In fact, I have never come across a more skittish pair of cats than Smokey and Lucy. Smokey regularly skipped meals because she would be hiding somewhere. Except for this one time, where she was severely wounded after being electrocuted at the transformer behind our apartment. Read about it here.
While moving to Udupi was my attempt at changing my every day life, it was also an ambitious move to make Smokey an indoor cat. I took this calculated risk after reading up a lot about how cats can be made to stay indoors. Smokey had no safe future in the outdoors in Bangalore. I was willing to give up my passion of travel (and photography, if need be), to be with Smokey while she transitions from an outdoor free roaming cat to a domesticated, indoor one. However, that decision ended up becoming a huge mistake, one which I cannot get over. Read about it in Part II.
I write this post in grief. A stray cat, Smokey, whom I nurtured from kitten hood, has been missing since January 20th 2022. She was last seen electrocuted at the transformer which is just outside my apartment gate. I did not know of this incident until 24 hours later. The night security guard, who saw it happen, told me that she got up and walked away after falling down from the transformer. This information was corroborated by the KEB personnel who came to restore power.
I don’t know if she is alive or dead, but having seen a small pool of blood at the accident spot, I fear the worst. I have been looking for her in the neighbourhood for the past three days. I can’t help but recall how much I have obsessed over Smokey, and her mother, for close to two years. I will tell you why.
The story of how Smokey entered my life is unconventional. Although I loved cats, living in an apartment complex meant that I couldn’t keep one at home. I never imagined that Smokey would become such a huge part of my every day routine. The cats and I where on our own paths which crossed unexpectedly. And eventually, they left the most lasting impression on me.
Smokey was born to a mangy, feral cat in my apartment basement circa March 2020. She had 5 siblings, none of which survived. It was lockdown time, and the mother cat found safe haven under parked cars in our small apartment which has around 30 houses. But disease, and maybe predators, resulted in all but Smokey passing away within a few weeks of being born.
I have always been a cat lover, so when I saw only Smokey surviving the litter, I decided to start feeding her and the mother cat. I named the mother Lucy, after Lucifer, because I was horrified at how she ate up one of her own kittens. I also intended to get Lucy and Smokey sterilised so they don’t go around reproducing and adding to the stray cat population. So, feeding them was the only way I could ensure that they stuck around in the basement. Unfortunately, this ended up becoming Smokey’s greatest weakness. She never learnt how to hunt, and was entirely dependent on me for food.
Flashback to May 2020, Lucy was an extremely skittish and shy cat. She was terrified of humans, but she was very much in need of food. She was very young, and this was probably her first litter. Initially, my feeding sessions were sporadic. I did not even know what to feed her. I wasn’t aware of the different types of cat food available in the market. But, Lucy used to follow me around in the basement. Since it was the lockdown, watching her and Smokey was a good way to pass time. I gently persuaded them to shift from under a neighbour’s car to my car, so nobody in the apartment would chase them away. From milk, to rice, to egg, to cat food, I gradually upgraded their meals. Smokey was growing up under the loving care of Lucy. She had the same temperament as her mother – she was scared of humans, albeit, a little less. She was never a lap cat and hated being held. She would do a funny act of coming near me, and suddenly running away when I bend down to hold her. I don’t know if she did it on purpose or because her feral genes. Despite that, I continued my feeding and play sessions.
This closeness between mother and daughter continued for over a year. Usually, mother cats distance themselves from their kittens after about 6 – 8 months, but not in the case of SmoLu, as I call the duo. Meanwhile, I was becoming a better pet parent. I was feeding them healthy cat food. I made a small cat-house for them to sleep in, where they would spend all morning cuddled together. I could never figure out what they did at night or where they went, because they would not remain in the apartment basement after supper. We have a huge open area beside the apartment, so they probably spent the night there. I even installed a CCTV camera near my car, to watch over them and understand their behaviour. The CCTV had a limited coverage area. I learnt quite a lot from the recordings. For instance, there were several male cats that visited the basement.
2020 and 21 were like no other. Covid was ravaging India and the world. Everyone’s daily routine changed forever, with work from home becoming a permanent thing for IT employees. This also widened the gap between people who had cushy desk jobs and those who had to slog it out.
Since I could work from home, I spent a lot of time with SmoLu. In between meetings, I would go down and watch the two of them together. Smokey would ask me for treats or food every time she saw me. She was a mischievous and curious darling. She was extremely talkative, especially around meal times. Both of them would wait for me near the lift, in the mornings. They would come running towards me if they weren’t near the lift. When I would return home from outstation trips, they would come running towards me. Smokey would mewl loudly seeing me, demanding to be fed. She would inspect the car often, and the joke was that the car is hers, and not mine. Her curiosity never faded. Lucy on the other hand was very stoic. The only feelings she ever showed was towards Smokey, who was always by her side.
For close to two years, I have ensured that they were fed. This was not always easy, because if not me, it is my mother who would have had to go down twice a day to feed them.
I was obsessed with SmoLu, because that is how cats grow on you. They have immense character, and take no shit. They aren’t easy to please or fool. It took me almost a week to trap Lucy to get her neutered. With Smokey, it was relatively easy, and I was glad that she was neutered before she got into heat. Another time, I had to take Lucy to the vet, where she scratched me so badly that the scars on my hand haven’t gone.
A couple of incidents stand out in my brief association with SmoLu. About a year into Smokey’s life, a male cat started to trouble these two. One day he picked a fight with Lucy and chased her away. She was gone for a week. I assumed that she was dead, because the security guards, who are my eyes and ears where the CCTV cannot see, told me that they saw the male cat chase Lucy into a drain. I was terrified that the same would happen to Smokey, and I brought her home to keep her with me. She was not at all happy in her new (comfortable surrounding), and wanted to be left back downstairs. We spent several sleepless nights fostering her, much to her displeasure. She would incessantly cry all night.
Thanks to the CCTV footage, I got to know that Lucy was back in the basement after about a week. My joy knew no bounds, because I had presumed she was no more. Unfortunately, she was not the same cat after this incident. The trauma made her aloof towards Smokey, who was still a young kitten at heart. Smokey never understood why her dear momma was hissing and swiping at her. It was heartbreaking to watch Lucy grow colder than she already was. But until the very last day I saw her, Smokey’s behaviour towards Lucy remained the same. Lucy was her everything.
Smokey also had her share of disappearing. Once, she was not to be seen for almost 2 nights, and I was sick with grief. But she was back in the morning, her usual self, asking for food like nothing had happened. Of course, she was terribly, terribly hungry. In fact, Smokey’s disappearances became more frequent than Lucy’s. Especially around the full moon. New tom cats started to enter the basement, and Smokey was terrified of all of them. She never learnt how to fight, unlike Lucy, who can hold her ground. Smokey was extremely good at hiding from danger, because after all, she spent her childhood playing under cars and getting into the bonnet.
I like all animals a lot, but I have a special corner for cats. Unlike dogs, where everything is always lovey lovey, Lucy and Smokey’s temperament was closer to that of humans. Lucy had her mood swings, while Smokey was curious and mischievous. A human should be extremely lucky to earn a cat’s love. They can be selfish, and vile. Once they have eaten, they will walk away from you and look at you like you are a stranger. SmoLu were no different, although somewhere deep inside I like to believe that Smokey loved me back, but only did not know how to show it.
I wonder if I got so attached to them both because of my own emotional gaps. I grew up a single child, with no playmates. My relationship with my parents has always been troubled. I have only my mother now, and things haven’t changed. I always loved animals but could never keep a pet. I have no children of my own, and after my divorce, I never felt the need to experience parenthood. Having seen a parent’s death, a broken marriage, and several ups and downs in life, my emotional temperament is like Lucy’s – stoic. I keep my distance from humans. Only with these two animals, I gave my all.
So, in SmoLu, I found everything I felt lacking. The bond between mother and daughter was such a beautiful thing to witness. Smol Smokey was my companion, and I spent so much time downstairs in the basement playing with her. I was her pet parent, protecting her from Tom cats, and always on the lookout for tasty, healthy food. I rediscovered my childhood hobby of making electronic gadgets, thanks to them. I rigged up a CCTV system with a long range WiFi network and made them a water feeding station which really helped me keep busy during the second COVID-19 wave.
Being so closely involved with these two strays also meant that I became more aware of the the issues other stray animals in the city face. I was directly and indirectly involved in rescues of animals in need. I regularly donated money for animal welfare. I frequently read horror stories about how humans harm voiceless strays for no genuine reason. I read in the papers how over 50% of new COVID era pet parents abandoned their pets on the street, not realising what it takes to raise an animal. From my own experience, I can say that looking after animals, especially stray cats, is an emotional roller coaster.
I think all animals are more aware of their mortality than we humans are. They live life, one day at a time. It takes only a little love from our side to receive boundless joy from them. They show no malice, and carry 100% pure innocence which humans lack. Each animal has a different character, like us. Genes, upbringing, environment and individual temperament make each one of them unique. If you have a little bit of extra sensitivity to the world around, you will see what perfect creatures animals are, compared to us.
Every time I managed to catch Smokey before her feeding time, I would hold her and cradle her like a baby. She would mewl in protest, and I would give her soft kisses. Because after all, we have only this brief life to show and receive love. Maybe it was always in the back of my mind that this might not last long. I am grateful to her for entering my life.
Sleep well, my baby, wherever you are.
UPDATE: SMOKEY CAME BACK ON HER OWN A WEEK LATER. SHE WAS SUFFERING FROM BURN WOUNDS ON HER PAWS AND FACE. I TOOK HER TO THE VET IMMEDIATELY AND GOT HER ADMITTED. SHE RECOVERED BEAUTIFULLY!
I conducted a one-day workshop on Lightroom/Post-Processing in Bangalore on May 5th. As I was looking at the course material, I realized that it was my sixth year of mentoring photographers in Lightroom. Our initial few workshops included both Lightroom and Photoshop, and spanned across two days. We converted it to a one day Lightroom-only workshop because Photoshop is not something that you can cover in a weekend.
In these years, Adobe has made quite a few significant changes to the software to simplify it, but the core concepts still remain the same. With Lightroom CC, the app that we once knew has actually become a ‘classic.’ Lightroom Classic CC is what Adobe calls the software that desktop version. Lightroom CC is now for the ‘mobile’ crowd and uses the cloud to store images.
In this class, we had 9 participants, two of whom were French. We also had many participants who had either traveled with Darter on our tours before, or had attended our other workshops. This is certainly encouraging for us – people come back only when they are happy.
The venue for our workshop was the Honeycomb – Video Production Bangalore, Web Design office in Koramangala. It was great to work in a space dedicated for photographers. In case you weren’t aware, Honeycomb makes archival photo prints on imported media. We had at least 50 prints hanging on the walls of our classroom. Honeycomb also offers services like image retouching and website development. Do check out their website.
Lightroom can be both easy and daunting. A common question that I get asked always is – when do I stop editing? How much of Lightroom should I use to edit an image. This question is challenging one for me, because like the question itself, there is no definite answer. The best thing would be to use a number of examples to show what can be achieved. As a mentor, I always strive to get the participants to understand the tricky topics like tonal correction first. To do this, I use some of my own photos as examples. As someone who loves landscape photography, I use more of such images for demonstration. However, I also recognize the need to have a variety of sample RAW files.
One collective feedback that I received in this workshop was to split the session into two days. What do you think? Should a Lightroom workshop be for one day or two days? Comment below and let me know.
If you are interested in a future Lightroom workshop, visit http://www.darter.in/ and stay connected through our Facebook page.
Under a billion stars
Faces lit by rectangular screens
All connected, but incoherently
Society’s wisdom measured by posts and tweets.
The hardest I think is when my password expires
Is the world around me ending?
A billion stars above don’t matter
They aren’t what is trending
Between my eyes and my brain I have a 5 inch filter
I don’t care if the polar bears can’t survive
Everything is sorted in the palm of my hands
Even in silent mode I feel so alive
What will happen when the signal grows weak?
Can I still make those connections?
How can I express my patriotism, anger and expert opinions?
I don’t know how to be social without notifications.
I recently moved my website from pixelshooter.net to pratapj.com – why did I switch domain names?
I said “hello world” from a self-hosted website on Jan 06, 2006. I had purchased a DSLR, the Canon 350D, a month before. Until then I was shooting with a Canon Powershot A75 which was also my first digital camera. I used the handle, “pixelshooter” for my online presence. I first hosted pixelshooter.net on a low budget web host and then moved to ANhosting (now called Midphase).
In the year 2006, self-published photography was a deviation from the trend. Flickr (before Yahoo acquired it) was a rage, and everyone was posting there. FB and 500px were not heard of. I think there was orkut, but I never took it seriously.
The first trip I did with the DSLR was to Kasargod in the same month when I purchased the domain name. This photo of Bekal fort is one of my favourites from that trip.
In Feburary my friend and I backpacked to Bhutan. It was my first time ever in the Himalayas. Bhutan was not yet commercialized. My DSLR proved to be the best thing that happened to me. After I came back, I wrote a travelogue which I published on pixelshooter.net. Here is a photo from Calcutta, which was my transit point to Bhutan. From early on, my photography was mostly about landscapes.
Internet connectivity was not great back then, and people still kept in touch through offline means. One of my friends even asked me “how to get an account on pixelshooter.net” because he thought it was a website like Flickr. No one quite understood my obsession with self-hosting a website. Needless to say, the only person who was really interested in pixelshooter.net was me.
The biggest challenge in the world of self-hosting was initially about theme design. Photo blogging, or posting a new photo every day, was a popular trend. I wanted a website where I could post a pic per day, and also write about my travels. With no ready made theme available, I got my hands dirty and learnt how to make my own theme in WordPress. You can see that version of my website on old.pixelshooter.net. Since I did not have a background in coding, it took me a lot of time to get the theme the way I wanted. Later I would realise that web design was not as much of a problem as website traffic.
My thought process behind hosting my own website hasn’t changed from the very begining. It was always about sharing pics, either through my photo blog or my travelogues. I wanted to do this on a self-hosted platform because I wanted to present my work in a unique way. I paid for everything from my pocket and never used advertisements. I always kept a check on the number of assignments that I took up, because I wanted to focus on learning. In the process, I forgot to take into account that people don’t take your work seriously unless you make it glamorous.
Until circa 2009, there was no social media to share my posts, so my traffic was mostly from Google and when friends visited. I joined Facebook very late. I did not bother creating a Facebook Page (when Pages actually mattered) because I had my blog. I was not aware about how Facebook throttles organic reach. I was very late to the party.
I did my first multi-day Himalayan trek to Kuari Pass in August 2009. I never published those photos online though. Post trek, I found myself really short on time to do justice to a travelogue and it never occured to me that I should post on Facebook. The ROI of running a website was limited to self-satisfaction. The hottest place to pimp your work was still on Flickr, and later 500px. I was a lone ranger in the genre of landscape photography. Wedding, portraiture, street and wildlife were the most popular genres of photography in India, and even today. I tried to stake my claim as a travel blogger, but my travels were focused around landscape photography.
Today, self-hosted blogs have made a come back. But blogging has become a sport. Self-hosted websites are mostly running a rat race for ‘influencer’ campaigns. When brands identify you as an influencer because of your popularity online, you promote them on your blog and social media in return for free stuff. A lot of people are writing blogs hoping to get free trips, hotel stays, goodies and road show invites. I just read an article today about these Influencer campaigns are pointless, but who cares? Likes, views, page hits and everything else that measures your popularity can either be purchased, or manufactured by careful self-promotion and branding and that is all what the marketing agencies want.
Facebook’s ‘Like’ button has hijacked the spirit of sharing anything online. Everyone has a digital presence today. All you need is very polarised opinions about the world or the skill of self-promotion to climb up the social media ladder. The joy of photography as a hobby died the day photographers focused on popularity instead of perfecting their art.
Pixelshooter.net did not stand a chance to become popular. I never shouted on top of rooftops about how awesome I was. My articles were all based on personal experience and I kept away from listicles. I only wrote when I had something to share. I did not have a network wide enough to keep spamming my social media with links. I hardly posted photos of myself from places I visited, and even if I did, I could never compete against the young women who promoted their blogs with just selfies. I wanted to showcase my work as an artist and content creator. It was too late by the time I realised that I was competing with people who had a completely different set of priorities.
These days, travelogues are not about the joy of discovering a place, but about how you did all the awesome things that you were supposed to do at the destination so you can post on social media. Photography is not about how artistically and technically good your work is, but about how glamourous it is to quit your job and become a full time professional. The word “hobby” has almost become a synonym for “boring”. Being enthusiastic about something does not mean anything unless you have enough Likes to prove it.
Sorry, I went a bit off track. The real reason I moved to Pratapj.com, however, was due to a technical problem I faced when I switched web hosts. One of the important factors for good SEO is page load speeds. I took advantage of a black Friday deal and purchased web hosting with SiteGround in November of 2017. SiteGround servers are faster than those of Mid Phase. I spent most of December migrating the content in the backend (more on that in the next post). I set up a staging environment called pratapj.com on Site Ground for this purpose. After all the backend work was done, I realised that I couldn’t simply point the new web host to pixelshooter.net because of a few technicalities. Pixelshooter.net was deeply tied to Mid Phase. The only way I could let it go was by breaking ties with them. That was not an option for certain reasons. So I decided to simply start using Pratapj.com as my new domain name.
But in more than one way, the change of domain names also signifies a change in my thought process about self publishing. I would like to keep working hard to excel in the space of outdoor and nature photography than be a contender for influencer campaigns. I’d rather see traffic from visitors who are genuinely interested in my content. I plan to incorporate more video into my work. I want to explore the market for commercial fine art digital prints. I hope do to more real-world product reviews.
I have fond memories of Pixelshooter.net. I hope someday I can find good use for that domain name again.
