I’ve never been good at watching movies. Ever since I was a kid, I’d watch these films bursting with emotions while hiding behind my hoodie. As its warmth enclosed me, I’d watch the tensest scenes of the film through a tiny peephole between the hood and collar of my hoodie, ready to close this viewpoint at any minute. “The hoodie method”, as my friends laugh about it.
During horror movies, I’d watch fearfully through this peephole, ready to shield myself from the horrors. Yet somehow, I was still scared of walking to the bathroom at night even after watching The Grudge from this position. This year’s horror movie, Obsession, was no different. Or I guess a little because I was squeezing my friend’s hand.
But it’s never been about horror movies. It’s never been about the gore or the jumpscare (maybe a little bit about the jumpscare). I could never handle the emotion of the moment in front of me.
As a child, I always felt that it was easier to leave. Honestly, I still do. When my parents and brother fight, I find myself sinking deeper into my sofa, staring at the lights that become my solace. I run to my thinking spots to write poems or play Let Down by Radiohead on full blast. Confrontation. I’ve tried to avoid it all my life. Perhaps it’s because growing up I saw my parents fighting constantly, which led to an initially sour relationship. I think a part of it is also because I’m scared of losing the people I have.
The hoodie method never started with horror movies. It starts with Bollywood — a classic called Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. Or in English, Sometimes Happy Sometimes Sad. Wow it sounds a lot worse when I translate it. This movie is about a kid of a wealthy family who is disowned for loving a commoner, and ultimately, is about how the family learns to accept him. I’ve watched this movie eight times before I was twelve years old. I cried every single time I watched it.
The emotions of each moment were too much for me to handle watching. I couldn’t bear to imagine the love that someone could have to leave everything behind. I couldn’t understand how difficult it must be to stop loving everything you once loved. I couldn’t watch to see love be so complicated and messy and painful. In my logical head, I didn’t know why this generic arc and emotions made me cry. I realize now that those emotions were just mine I hoped to one day express.
After turning twelve, I stopped crying to that movie. I would watch it again and again with family, each time my mother looking at me to see if I would break a cry. I didn’t. For six years I didn’t show my emotions to the world. For six years I never cried.
Now that I think about it, during this time I didn’t feel the same emotions I feel now. I didn’t understand how deep friendships could run. How meaningful family could be. How powerfully love could fly. I thought emotions weren’t for me, and that as a boy, I was meant to hold them all in.
Over the last year, I’ve cried to more movies than I ever did in the last six years. Watching Tony Stark die in Avengers Endgame. As Michael B. Jordan fought through his battles in Creed. When Odysseus returned. During Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. And the people around me have noticed it too. My mother has never been happier to see me express all the emotions I do now. In fact, she attributes it to the same person I do. Shreya.
I met Shreya for the first time a little over a year ago. Scratch that, four years ago. Actually scratch that again, if we’re really counting it was in third or fourth grade for a brief moment of time. Call it invisible string theory, but somehow, our lives have coincidentally always intertwined. I remember the first time she messaged me, asking about my schedule. In all honesty, I think I was always interested in her as a person. Even when we were freshmen she had this drive like no one I had seen. I had to know more. She asked me a few months after we were dating why I had responded to the message about our schedule instead of liking the message like everyone else. I guess I just had an inkling that I was meeting an amazing person.
For the next two months, I got to see how true that statement really was. I’d watch her discipline everyday outside of class (senioritis hit us hard). I’d watch her value the memories she made in the hallways more than the mindless ones in the classroom. I watched as she transformed those mindless classrooms into memories with her laugh, her smile, and her stupid, funny, and stupid ideas. I saw her strength as she told me about the things she loved. The people around her. The clubs. Her dreams. Somehow in the two months I was getting to know Shreya, there was never a doubt in my mind that she was the one.
Funnily enough, I guess I was still my past self because I never told anyone about these emotions I was feeling. It felt like it was just me and her learning about each other. No strings attached. And that made it so easy to attach those strings exactly eleven months ago.
Somehow, eleven months ago, all that emotion that I would never express to anyone, became easy to let out. I found myself thinking of magic tricks because I wanted to hold her hand. It felt easy to compliment her because all I had to do was say the truth. But more than love, I could share everything. I shared my frustrations, my struggles, my insecurities, my fears. Or at least I’m trying more than ever to share everything. Because somehow our love feels stronger each time we share.
I thought I had figured out love a long time ago. That by watching Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham I knew that love was choosing somebody over anybody else. Earlier this year, I adapted it to choosing somebody over and over again everyday. But all of that feels so shallow to the emotions I feel when someone mentions her name. How do I fit into a definition all of the emotions scattered around my brain. How do I explain that as my hand remains empty while I walk, I imagine the first time that magic trick worked. How do I explain the calmness in my heart when we bump our heads together and stare into each others eyes as if we could see each others hearts. How do I explain that watching her happy and successful has my heart bursting with pride. How do I explain that everytime I hear about her struggles I want to be there next to her side. How do I explain that I’ve never felt this kind of love before. How do I explain that I will never love anything more.
In that last year, I’ve used the hoodie method less and less. I think I’ve gotten better with confronting emotions and navigating them to maintain the relationships I love. But, like everything, it’s a work in progress. You know, life’s a learning process :). What I have learned over the last eleven months is to stop running away. In reality, things are more beautiful when you communicate and stay. I never thought I would find a love like Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. Yet, halfway across the country, I know for a fact that I found the one.