Is disbelief an emotion or a sensation? It seems to manifest in my body as a coping mechanism, a trauma response. I do not usually allow myself to believe that something incredible has happened to me until I have solid proof of it—some kind of written confirmation that will give me the permission to rejoice. It’s how I avoid disappointment. It’s how I wrestle with rejection, too. When a state of disbelief settles over me, I feel like I have been ushered into a kind of limbo, a suspension of feeling. It’s not quite the same as disassociation. It’s as if I am deferring my joy, and, unfortunately, by postponing any revelry around potential good news, I sometimes dilute its intensity. It is, like I said, a coping mechanism, a trauma response to having inhabited a culture where various forms of bureaucracy conspire to make life exceedingly difficult.

Nothing ever comes easily in India, unless you are able to pay the right people. I think back to my recent struggles with trying to procure my missing birth certificate from Kuwaiti and Indian authorities—a year-long process that drained me of emotional and financial resources, all so that I could make my application for citizenship in Italy. I think back to 2019, when I wanted to get married in a court in Delhi and the website on which one had to register simply refused to work, and when it finally did and we were in the system, we were asked for ten thousand documents. There’s another instance, when I was skimmed of some Rs 35,000—pretty much all the money I had in my bank account back in April 2019—during a trip to Vienna and my bank made me jump through hoops for months until they could verify my claim and return me the money.