To Scotland with Love

(Copyright of all pictures lies with the author.)

Continuing on the tradition of messing up movie-titles, this one is a more reflective piece; essentially an outlet for all the mottled feelings and emotions that come with completing two months here.

It has been a veritably long affair with Scotland, full of longing and gazing into the distance (both figuratively and literally.) There were lots of unexpected delays  – and it did feel never-ending at one point, including the 15-hour flight journey – but now that I am finally here, it feels unreal that it’s been two months already. The concept of that much time passing by that quickly – without each day being another spiral of waiting and fear and insecurities of another rejection, of feeling ungrounded and unsure of the next step, of not being granted a Certificate of Sponsorship, or of stumbling at the final step and having my visa rejected – had effectively ceased to exist in the past six months. Yes, you’d be correct in arguing that I went through the customary graduate-limbo, but being a writer comes with tendencies of hyperbolism and a general sense of grandiosity, so bear with me.

Dornie in the Scottish Highlands – where I’m residing now – is as different as possible from Delhi, where I grew up. The total population of Dornie can fit into a university hall in India, for starters. There are no multiplexes or marketplaces right across the street. Driving isn’t as scary, especially when the honk of the horn is so rare to hear. All the lochs (Scottish for “lakes”) I am surrounded with are a novel sight in themselves, since Delhi is quite far off from water bodies. And a particularly jarring difference is the dearth of public transport, as opposed to the smorgasbord of buses, metro, and rickshaws in Delhi. I am taking lessons again after 4 years, because driving here is more a necessity than a luxury.

Amidst this veritable show-reel of changes and contrasts, however, what stands out is the silence. The quiet. The noise of my own thoughts and breaths, suddenly so audible – so much so that I am forced to listen to them. The resonating rustle of my shirt against my bedsheet during my customary toss-and-turn routine before sleeping. I admit it takes getting used to; not having the white noise of stray dogs and their barks, or a lone car whizzing past your window – sounds you are used to falling asleep to. But the silence here is not oppressive, it’s pressing and reflective. It’s like tuning into a station on the radio; the formless mental static finding a structure, a discernible voice. The sound of my own thoughts can get scary some days and some nights, but for the most part, they just bring me more in touch with myself.

At the risk of sounding like a (melodramatic) lone wolf, I like the solitude that the Scottish Highlands accord me. The necessity of solitary train or bus journeys, and driving amidst long stretches of mountains; have to say, the landscape is every writer’s fantasy. While I did have my solitary metro-rides back in Delhi, it is nice to have the external crowd replaced by your internal one. The remoteness of the location – again so antithetical to the centrally-located Delhi – is great for both mental and physical retreat. After years spent being at war with myself, being unsure, this all-consuming sense of inadequacy within, burrowed deep – exacerbated tenfold in the aforementioned graduate-limbo – working and living here come with an uncharacteristic lack of questions and a feeling of certainty. Indeed, it is quite new to me to not be questioning every step I take, wavering on knowing my own mind, asking myself if this is where I really want to be – because the answer every time is a resounding yes. And I can hear it this time, loud and clear – without it being drowned in a sea of other voices.

I have a different set of stresses now; day-to-day challenges at work that come with expanding and scaling a small company and the huge responsibility that come with being part of the core team. Although these have their own brand of occasional bouts of anxiety and an overactive mind in the wee hours of late night or early morning, they are more streamlined and result-driven; they push me to grow myself professionally, to motivate and deliver. They push me to build trust in myself by honing my abilities. They convince me of my worth each time I manage to prove to myself that I am capable of producing results and meeting challenges. They allow me my time and my space to be able to invest in myself, helping me take a (baby) step further on this journey of self-discovery, self-reliance, and self-building.

I am not entirely alone on this adventure either. I have my dose of companionship and friendship here. I have found a lovely community here in my team – a group of people I feel personally and professionally coordinated with. And I have made a friend (high-school-level-excitement-voice) that I genuinely adore and feel close to. Fulfilment and contentment are words floating in front of my eyes now, urging me to name these nebulous feelings that this post is a long-drawn endeavour to describe. I am quite surprised really, how they can be so accurately condensed into these two ideas; ideas that have mostly been abstract concepts and pursuits for me, transient and ever-changing. At this point, however, if they feel as concrete as they do, I am not going to question it. For now, I am just going to sit back with a steaming cup of coffee from the awesome coffee-machine down in the office (my love for that machine and that office can merit its own blog-post) and take it all in. And smile. Not the contrived one, not the one that makes me uncomfortably hyper conscious of every muscle and contortion on my face, not the one meant for outside eyes. This one is a smile that comes rarely to me, earnest and real, and I am going to let it stay on just a while longer.

Montage of some of my favourite things

(Kudos if you read that in Julie Andrews voice.)

She is real: I said I made a friend (and no, she is not walking away from me, she is just camera-shy. I swear.)

I also made some furry friends here! Look at me, being a social animal (see what I did there?)

Sight from one of my solitary train-journeys.

A dog doing an awesome dive into the water in Inverness. You know, the usual.

Dornie and the Eilean Donan Castle. With glimpses of the loch and the mountains alongside the castle, this picture makes for quintessential Scotland.

For me, my office feels like a perfect mix of clutter and quiet; reflective of the general theme of the ongoing internal monologue that I’ve attempted to express in this post.

Just a slight show-off routine on the side; my team (and friend) love getting me flowers.