The Past is a Thing of The Past

“I go to seek a Great Perhaps.”

-Francois Rabelais

In a year struck by a pandemic that has brought the world down to its knees, a sudden encore of racism and the consequences that follow this unholy return, ruthless forest fires, threats of another world war, sinister killer wasps, forest fires, and all of the rest of Satan’s army, a little bit of predictability and reassurance about the future is something everyone could use. It’s only been the first half of 2020, and the world wouldn’t mind a break right about now. We could all use a warm hug and some hope.

Murphy’s law states that everything that can go wrong will go wrong. 2020 is the literal embodiment of Murphy’s Law. This is the year we realised how much we took for granted; it is the year that truly brings out the nostalgic in all of us. This year taught us to count our blessings, and causes us to perennially reminisce about days long gone. But if you’ll permit me this, I would like to zoom in to just my problems for the duration of this piece. While 2020 has affected me just as much as the rest of the population of the world, there is something eating away at me, something I’d like to talk about: my impending relocation.

“What? A relocation?” you must be thinking, scoffing to yourself. Relocation can barely hold a candle to any of the monstrosities this year has shown us thus far. But hear me out. I’m not undercutting how absolutely disastrous this wretched year has been so far. I paid homage to the trail of chaos 2020 has left in its wake, I’ve done what I can as an individual, but now I’d just like to share some of thoughts with the world. Is that really too much to ask for?

For the duration of this piece of writing, let’s imagine for a second that 2020 was actually a half decent year. No pandemic. Racism didn’t rear its ugly head. It was just like any other year. In such a world, relocation is quite the emotional process. I’ve hopped from one place to the other four times now, and one would think that it gets easier with each one. It doesn’t, let me assure you, it certainly doesn’t. Uprooting everything you’ve grown, the ties you’ve established to the places, the people you’ve bonded with, the very people you now have to let go of as you venture into the unknown, it is… Messy, in the very least.

There are people out there who go out of their way to seek change. People who get bored of life and its patterns, who wear different shoes different days of the week, who carry different lunches different days of the week, who take different routes to work/school different days of the week, simply because these people simply cannot stand repetition. My father is one of those people. But then there’s me, who wears his typical black and red shoes to school, who takes a typical peanut butter sandwich in a typical Tupperware box as lunch, who takes the same bus to school everyday, and cycles through the same five odd typical songs throughout the week. Mind you, beyond a point, I do like me some change too. If I’m really feeling daring, I’ll use Nutella instead of peanut butter; wear white shoes instead of black ones. As you can clearly see, my father and I are very different people.

Individuals like myself are the last kind of people who’d want to relocate. The amount of uncertainty, the sheer levels of entropy involved in a move, it’s enough to drive people such as myself into a panic attack. Where would we live, what is the city like, what language do they speak, are the folks there known to be friendly towards expats, what’s the crime rate there, what is the healthcare like, is the city safe by sunset, what kind of cuisine is it there, are they friendly towards vegetarians, are schools there nice, how about rent, is it high? These are all the thoughts that run through my head when the news had been broken to me by my parents, the news being that we’d be moving to Berlin (yes, I’m shifting to Berlin, the cat is now out of the bag).

I went pale in the face, and I believe my parents saw that. Having seen my reaction, my father assigned to me a project that, in that moment only made my panic go through the roof, but in the long run really did help me overcome my anxiety. He told me I was to find the house we’d live in once we moved there.

Turning the clock forward to modern day, I have nearly shortlisted our new house. I know the city like the back of my hand despite never actually set foot in it, I know which neighbourhoods are good, which ones to avoid, the works. When exactly we’ll fly out is up in the air, (pardon my pun), what with the pandemic having sent airline companies into a frenzy. But here’s the crux of it all: the proposition of shifting no longer sends me into a cold sweat.

Over the months, reading about Berlin, reading about how it is, it’s neighbourhoods, the overall culture, it is no longer some mystery beyond my comprehension, some monster out to get me, but rather just a city, just like any other city in the world, and there is nothing that should daunt me about it as much as it does.

But here’s what really changed the game for me, and it is precisely what I came here to share. My sentiments are arguably best captured with this quote: “You can’t cling to the past. Because no matter how tightly you hold on, it’s already gone.” This is a quote from one of the best TV shows to grace humanity, ‘How I Met Your Mother.’

The past is fleeting, much akin to the sand in an hourglass. By the time you realize how much it means to you, it’s already on the verge of departure. It makes no sense holding onto the past, and the only way to survive the future is to embrace the future, for better or for worse.

And that also means looking for the unknown, seeking change and chaos and allowing them in your life. As a person who takes the same bus to school and back home everyday, it isn’t particularly easy to apply such philosophies into my life. I’m not one for letting go of the warm, if predictable, past, for the dangerous and uncharted territory that is the future.

But that’s the thing about relocating: the only way to survive it is to welcome change into your life with open arms. As a chronic nostalgic, I’m totally one to kick back and reminisce about days past on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I like the past, and I like comfort zones. I like patterns and I much rather sticking to them. I take the well-beaten path over the one through the woods.

But what I’ve learnt through the process of researching our future home is, for one, while you mustn’t completely divorce yourself from your past, it is generally healthy to draw a line between reminiscing and living in the past. Helps you look forward to things in the future. Unpredictability can be both a good and bad thing, it shouldn’t always intimidate you.

Another thing I learnt is that despite what they’re named, one must try not to get too comfortable in one’s comfort zone. This is something I’ve personally been guilty of, sticking to a routine, a pattern, because of the comfort that comes with predictability. But if this damned year has taught me anything, it’s that the future is much too chaotic to walk into it with a colour-coded itinerary of your life. You have to expect curveballs, and must learn how to deal with them. I certainly am still learning to.

As it stands right now, the next few months of my life look very uncertain. New city, new people, new turf, new culture. But there’s still an air of excitement to it all, and as we’ve established, it’s futile trying to hold on to the past, to hold onto the

life I experienced here in Singapore. While I adored my time here, it was just a stepping-stone in the grand scheme of things. The past is a thing of the past, and though sweet and warm it may be, I figure it’s about time I gave the future a chance.

-Abhiram.