Custody of the eyes: Turning inward in 2025

I decided to leave a two-year, five-month, and seven-day relationship in 2024. I took the opportunity to focus on being on my own, to experience the lamplit glow of solitude that you only appreciate in the absence of the spotlights of romantic relationships. I hadn’t been single for over two months in seven years, and during the waning days of my previous relationship, the undeniable anxiety of not knowing what that life would be like consumed me.

Now it wasn’t about going on dates every weekend and kissing strangers. Dakota Johnson in How To Be Single sold me this idea of a 20-year-old something pursuing hobbies she’d always promised to get into, reading books by the window in her cute and moderately eclectic studio apartment in a big city, coming home at three in the morning, unzipping her own dress and falling asleep alone with muted street lights coming in through the window. That movie got me thinking I had to hike the Grand Canyon on New Year’s Eve by myself, even though I had no particular affinity towards the Grand Canyon or hiking. She makes you feel like there is a fluid ecstasy, a feeling of fulfilment and groundedness that you experience when you’re truly present while alone. Almost a year and 14 hobbies/activities later, I can wholeheartedly testify to the existence of that feeling.

I savoured every opportunity that would let me know myself inside out. I learnt to differentiate between gut feelings, butterflies in my stomach, and irritable bowel syndrome

So, on January 1 2025, I returned to an empty apartment at 5am after a night with friends. And as I put myself to bed, I felt that very rooted fulfilment. I loved having the time and space to be everything I was, no performance needed. I could adorn my resting bitch face with zero guilt, lie down with my laptop on my belly, my vape on my chest (I do not recommend vaping) and not get up until procrastinating peeing became a UTI risk.

I was in the honeymoon phase of my relationship with myself. I spent most of my time physically alone. I sat for hours reading in cafes. I took two-hour-long autorickshaw rides across town. I went shopping, tried on clothes, and bought nothing – and danced around the living room at one in the morning. I spoke to random people sitting beside me at restaurants, exchanged life advice with Uber drivers, and I cried a lot because the gratitude surrounding this life got overwhelming at times. I kept wondering how I’d never actively participated in this relationship before because it was so natural to me.

I savoured every opportunity that would let me know myself inside out. I learnt to differentiate between gut feelings, butterflies in my stomach, and irritable bowel syndrome. Presence was non-negotiable. The conscious effort it took to be in the moment made all the difference. Realising you’ve done your first push-up in proper form, nailing your first invert on a pole, lifting yourself off the ground doing a flying split, getting up on that surfboard without falling, you get glimpses of a solid feeling of grounding, not to anything, but within.

I love that as I evolve with time, there will be new bits of my life I will get to explore. I love how it isn’t exhaustible

I didn’t eat grapes under the table at the start of the year, but somehow I did end up experiencing an abundance of love. In the past year, I have learned to be kinder to myself, to prioritise things that brought me joy, to make things happen for me, and to soothe myself when they didn’t happen. Maybe this year was about practising custody of the eyes and taking the time to appreciate what already existed – the people, places, and dreams that were already manifested but not acknowledged. It feels relatively easier to sit with the bad because it can often be consuming, but forcing myself to sit with the good, to bask in gratitude and feel my heart expand, was a novel thought. I love that as I evolve with time, there will be new bits of my life I will get to explore. I love how it isn’t exhaustible. Every new current and undercurrent of life will serve as an avenue for exploration. And what a blessing it is to feel the eustress of standing at the pivoting point of all possibilities – the present – for just a second to take in all that already is and accept that everything but this moment is unknown to you.

I have moved countries now. I’ve left the city I fell in love (with myself) in, my family, my house, the boy I played house with, and hungover Sunday biryani traditions with friends to start a Master’s degree in a subject that I had never studied before. And when the waves of homesickness, coupled with saudade of questionable intensity and uncertainties about what happens after I graduate hit, I immerse myself in the sweet singing of solitude. I return to the relationships that have accompanied me through time, across cities, careers and all my haircuts. So, I turn off the spotlights, light a lamp, and I lie down with my laptop on my belly, my vape on my chest, and I don’t get up until procrastinating peeing becomes a UTI risk.