And then I go all silly..

Can we really compare pain or miseries or even illness..

I often find myself talking about my hair issues to my friends. Though it may seem small and petty to most of us (I too would have not sympathized with anyone had it not happened to me), but it’s a major dent in the confidence of the person who bears it. Last night, I met some friends and since I was so conscious about how I looked, I ended up confessing my hair problem. Another friend who’s trying to have a baby said that it couldn’t be as bad as having fibroids in the uterus and I was like of course there’s no comparison. What I felt bad about is that how could you compare problems- they are so uniquely yours and yours alone. While I wouldn’t understand what she must be going through, she might not have any idea how tough it was to deal with something as trivial as a cosmetic issue.

I learnt this lesson some time ago. Someone I knew was having a tough time getting pregnant and I had been stupid and ignorant enough to compare that with my singular status and loneliness issue. I am still so ashamed of even thinking like that now, how naïve and- a millionth time, stupid I could be.

I realized that a person’s problems was theirs alone and no matter how small we would think of them, they are big enough to bother them and therefore have importance. A person going through cancer or a life threatening disease would be happy to have what I do.

There’s just no way to compare joys and likewise miseries, it’s just fundamentally incorrect..

Roots..

These lines from her got me thinking: "..because where you live can keep changing. Where you belong never does..."

S belongs to Kolkata while I to Lucknow. We have spent a major part of our lives, our growing up in these cities. Both of us have families there, relatives, cousins and even friends that we’ve grown up with. In my case, the bond is even stronger, my ancestors have lived there and for as long as any of us can remember, Lucknow has been our home. As I explain to people, I am typically from the city- we haven’t migrated from somewhere and both my parents’ sides have generations living in the city. I never gave it much thought until now, never realized what a source of pride for me it is and how important to “belong” to a place is, a place where I have my roots. And now suddenly, it’s such a beautiful feeling- to belong!

This whole thought process began when I started to think which place our children would belong to.. Both of us have our roots in different places, we will move cities based on our work requirements. And I wonder if my children would feel like the way I do about home? Will they ever come to the sudden realization about the importance of having roots, or ever wonder at this ordinary yet miraculous discovery.. 

To strangers..

There are some people you know you’ll never meet again..

I was flying home sometime last year. I’d just moved cities, had no job and was desperate for company, making “new” friends. My married sisters had instructed me to start talking to people, connecting with them (which is a very tough thing for me to do), and make friends, so I began groping for company. I was seated next to this lady who must be early 40s and we began talking.

It was rather interesting talking to her. She seemed as impatient as me, mature but still had that defying streak in her. She explained how Bangalore will gradually grow on me and I’ll begin to prefer it over Delhi, we spoke about ambition and families and children. She told me how independently she was raised, how she had called off her engagement when young with her childhood friend and neighbor and still managed to remain friends, that there came a time when she knew that she had to leave home for a larger city or she wouldn’t survive. There was too much of similarity and vehemence in us and I could see faint glimmers of a bond. This had happened to me before when total strangers had become my best friends and with that dire need now to find a close pal, I was glad to encounter someone like her.

 We kept chatting for all of the two and half hours and by the end of it remained interested enough to exchange numbers and a probability to meet each other once back in Bangalore. After umpteen attempts to connect, we did manage to meet up. We had lunch, chatted amicably for an hour or so and then parted with words of meeting each other with our spouses some time. However, in some inexplicable way, at some unsure moment during our lunch, I realized that this was probably that last time I was meeting her. I don’t know when and how this happened but I just knew it. After that meeting neither tried meeting or even staying in touch, just like that.

Now when I look back, I feel that I should have left that airplane conversation to what it was- a conversation that makes you smile at times, of connecting with somebody totally unknown and making you think about the wonders of life. I have had some encounters when I travelled often and though I don’t even know their names, I remember most of them distinctly, even fondly.

I guess its better being ignorant about some things, certain people. Maybe some things are best left the way they are..

Generally..

I no more have the older qualms.. It’s a peaceful and some might even say, a pretty life I live.

My day begins at 7:30 in the morning when I wake up to open the door for the cook, instruct him what to make and then go back to bed, if only to shut my eyes for those 20 extra minutes before I have no choice but to wake up. Once I am ready, I literarily cajole S to wake up and rush into the kitchen to make nimboo paani/ tea/ breakfast and pack our lunch. In the meanwhile S is ready and settles the bed, waters plants and we talk about mundane things with some random music playing in the background.

He obviously finishes his share of chores before me (with hardly much to do) and is at the table when I bring breakfast and tea out for us. We again chat amicably for a while before we realize with a start that both of us are getting late. This is followed with total chaos to pick up our bags, one last look at the mirror, hug each other and then while I bring out the car, he locks up the house. I drop him on my way to work and we both get immersed in our respective work places.

Once I reach work, I HAVE to text him or he loses it (which I think is rather sweet). Once when I forgot to message him and rushed into a meeting, I had umpteen missed calls, several frantic texts and a call at the office reception! We usually call each other once in a day from work, even if to say hello. I leave work at about 6:30-7:00 in the evening when things are good, talk to Ma on my way back and by that time he has already reached home, changed and is off to the gym. We meet each other by 8:30ish and have dinner, watch some tv, share our day and are off to sleep. Often the gym is replaced by a common urge to eat paani bataasha (gogappas), so we meet each other mid-way and go for dinner.

Amidst all this, my life is sprinkled with little fights and arguments with him, some late night conversations about life and future plans, our doubts and fears, everlasting holiday plans, some gossip and a bit of bullying each other.

I don’t think I can complain, thank God..

Refusing to budge..

I admit I've been living my life in a bit of an illusion. A life I've been seeing through rose tinted glares, where everything works out the way I want it to.. And though "Castle" says high time he admitted to reality, I refuse to. I would still like to believe that I will get what I want, somehow.

And yes, I am 30 something and still not cynical, touch wood..

On another note, those bloody shots on my scalp hurt crazy. I've paid my price for being arrogant about how I look, hair back now- please God..

Believing in miracles..

DESTINY- It's a word that I've learnt the meaning of very slowly. I've argued with myself a zillion times on how it's the willpower of a human being that makes things happen and though I still believe in the thought, things have changed.

I've learnt that:
- You do get exactly what you want, it may or may not be how you've wanted it.
- "He" up there knows you more than you know yourself
- Believing is a miraculous word
- Some things are meant to be, most are destined
- Hard work and luck go together
- The present happens in preparation to the future

And I believe this because of all the guys I met, I ended up with S, whose exactly right for me. There were times when I hated him beyond reason but still continued being friends with him and now I wonder why..

I guess He always has a plan and that makes me believe in miracles..

About sisters..

I sometimes wonder how she knows me so well, its T I am talking about. Whenever we have our conversations about “life”, she says such things that stick to me, and no matter how I disagree with them at that point in time, eventually I realize how right she was.

Before I got married, she kept telling me how wonderful a life I was living- a place to myself, all the freedom, work that I loved and enough money, what more could I ask for. I kept telling her that she didn’t realize that how it was a struggle sometimes to live alone, how at times I wouldn’t speak for hours, and all the stupid stuff I could think of. And though I hate to admit it, she was right about the life I was living was that people only dreamt of.

Another conversation of ours was regarding a friend who lived out of a suitcase. She lived a nomadic life and to buy something new, she had to throw something old out of her case. I was completely fascinated by it and wanted to live a similar life, travel, have no roots, just like the movies. When we were discussing it, she said that “we-her and I”, weren’t capable of such lives. We were people with roots, we liked familiarity was too much- coming back to a home and not a hotel room, being around familiar faces and not trying to make new friends all the time, talking and meeting our parents and sibling very often, that’s what made us. Again, stupid of me to disagree but one move to another city and a month in the hotel room made me change my mind.

To say that she’s my alter ego wouldn’t be an overstatement. I’ve come to realize how important “validation” for us in anything we do, thanks to her. When I decided to get married to S, I was super scared. Although we were friends but he was not the kind of man I’d sought for myself, rather opposite. Destiny intervened and things happened. As usual, I went to her with my woes and this is what she said (she’d of course met him by then)- “Sam, some things are decided by God himself, what happened to you was just that. Since you didn’t know what’s good for you, he intervened and took the call for you and that’s the best way it should be done. Knowing you and how you’ve lived your life, how you don’t like answering people and that freedom you need, you couldn’t have settled for a typical family like we have.” This not only gave me the much needed confidence at the point of time, but now I realize how she knows me better than myself.

I can go on about this sister of mine, how some of the best advices have come from her, how she puts into words exactly what I am thinking, but let’s just end it like that- she knows me better than I know myself..

And nostalgia hits like never before..

At times when I read my earlier posts, I feel strangely detached. As if the current strange me is looking at the real me that earlier was. I know it makes no sense at all, so let me explain (or try to).

For a millionth time- I lived alone for 6 years, in total solitude. There was just no one I came back home to, or who heard me out. Though it may sound depressing and I constantly cribbed about it, somewhere I’d gotten used to it too. I had a way of living, behaving, doing things and coping with situations. When I think about those days, I feel as if the person I am right now is somebody I don’t connect to and I keep looking for those glimpses of my past life. It is nowhere to say that I am not happy right now, just that I reminisce about those days through rosy glasses. I seem to have forgotten the pain and hurt of living alone, not talking for hours at times, crying myself to sleep even. All I think of now is how I could not talk when I didn’t feel like, taking power naps coming back home before going out with friends for dinner, those late night conversations of love, life and miseries with best friends.  I miss dragging my bean bag in the balcony with a nice cup of tea and a book and going off to sleep on it till the evening chill woke me up. I miss S picking me up and giving me that appreciative glance that embarrassed me and inflated my ego at the same time. I miss my little secret life..

It’s like sitting on a tree and looking at my current life as if it is all happening to someone else.. And then I meet S in the evening and couldn’t care less..

A prayer and then some more..

Can I now have my hair back please!!
And I pray with all my heart..

Arbit thoughts and more..

It has become increasingly difficult to read or even write these days. I start something and don’t to how to continue with it and no matter how much I crave for the earlier enthusiasm to do either, I just can’t. I feel guilty about all the unread books I have with me, or the books I want to read, but it just doesn’t happen.

Once, books and writing were my solace, my escape from the hard realities of this world. I could lose myself in them, they made me feel smarter, they made me feel strangely me, but mostly through them I connected to the eccentric side of me. These activities, no matter how regular, made me feel unique, as if I was just slightly apart from the rest, or when I felt alone and scared, I connected with them like nothing else.

And now I miss it so much, I miss being so in love with a book that I never want it to finish, or relating myself to the characters or my heart pumping so fast when something exciting is going to happen in it. I miss posting regularly and knowing that someone there is reading, relating.. maybe even understanding.

I miss pouring it all out here, I miss my old self at times..

Age old issues..

I don't know how to begin, rather crib, so lets begin right away (in my favorite way):
- Any new work place, and I have my issues.
- I think I have no social skills left in me, can't make conversations, can't bond
- I wonder what's it between the bosses and me, they never ever like me
- What the hell does it take to do well in your carrier- I work as hard as I can but it doesn't even matter.
- Stupid ambitious me
- I NEED to be happy in my work and my personal life to be truly happy
- I wonder if its just a girl thing to make life difficult for the new girls who join in or men go through similar grievances
- I miss M, I wish I could find a friend like him here

And then I pray some more..

And it comes again..

You find yourself at the strangest of places at times, a place where you have everything you want and are still struggling with acceptance; when after all these years of working, you feel like you are beginning from the scratch again, when you feel small and incapable but still can't give up without a fight..

And then you revisit old places for solace, for comfort and familiarity, hoping that there are those few still around with the kindest words of advise and affection..

I miss it here..

I think I have simply lost my ability to write. Though I miss this space soo much, words just cease to flow out of me like they did.

Maybe it is because I have nothing to say as such, its a dull, but content life I lead nowadays. Being married puts an end to my "boy" problems or ego issues. I do see glimpses of my past life, the one that I thought was dull but it mostly had something going on, and it seems like all of it happened to someone else. I don't understand now what the fuss was all about and had I known being married would be like this, I'd have done it sooner!!

Having said that, it doesn't mean I don't have my share of qualms. Earlier, it was cribbing about work, and now its cribbing about having none!! Yes, I am unemployed- finding a job in this new place has been very daunting and I worry that I will get too laid back or rust if I don't begin doing something soon enough. Honestly, I would have lost it had it not been for him, he just keeps my wits intact.

So that's all I got to say about my mundane life, to whom I don't even know but its relieving to take that out here, as if I am conversing with a friend after ages.

Miss being here..

As it was to be..

And so I fell in love with this kind, funny man..

Aspirations and more..

"Life is like riding a bicycle,
You must keep moving in order to keep you balance." Einstein.

I've been hooked to Instagram lately and the more I see pictures of the younger and cooler ones, the more I realise what all I could have done, all the I could have achieved. I repent the opportunities missed, I wanted to grow up quickly and begin working. I was fascinated by the idea of earning my own money, getting the freedom that comes with it and though that was sweet, I want to do so much more now.

I don't regret much that I did in life but I do repent making more mistakes, taking more risks. Growing up has taught me a lesson, to be more impulsive, to follow my heart. I should have travelled more, worked harder and aspired to be bigger, been more frivolous and flamboyant . I've learnt that life will end up being what it has to be and you end up remembering only the nicer parts, past is forgotten easily and life should be lived and not just withered away.

Maybe this is what they say wisdom is, maybe that's what they call experience but the fact remains that I'll never be young again.

Maybe that's the ultimate lesson that we all learn as we travel in this so called journey called life..

A facade..

On the Internet (minus this space), I can be anything. I can be flambouyant, flirtatious, colourful and crazy. I can hide my miseries and drown my insecurities and pretend of a perfect little world. I can be witty and friendly and always happy. I can create an illusion of fun, and hide my selfishness, pretend to be spiritual and not matirialistic when in reality ambition drives me crazy.

It's such a respite..

An early bird..

At times the vastness of life scares me, scares me more than anything in the world. And at times like these I wonder how lovely it would be to die young, even poetic.. It worries me if I would be able to justify my existence in this world, fulfill my own expectations I have of myself. The worst is that people don't expect much of me so I cannot even rebel against anyone.

And I don't write this because I am depressed about anything, just that I've always fancied dieing young.

Only if we could choose..

As it will always be love..

My latest lessons from  the book The Ingredients of Love, (of what I've read of it until now):

"If you consider it closely, we all have our complications, sensitive spots, and quirks. There are things we do or things we would never do- or only in very special circumstances. Things that make other people laugh and shake their heads in wonder.
Peculiar things that are ours and ours alone."
 
"Bernadette was right, this wasn't about Claude at all, but about something that ultimately always touches our souls: the love for someone we all long for, to whom we reach out our hands our whole life long, to touch them and hold them."
 
"And it was senseless to expect fairness in matters of the hearts.
Love was what it was. No more and no less."

And so I just fell in love with these lines..

 

A wish..

Realisation between what you like and what you assume to like has sunk in rather quickly. I always fancied a life where I virtually lived out of the suitcase, stayed in fancy hotels and traveled and met new people. In fact, I was envious of a friend who had a life like that, with no roots, nothing to pull her back. I envisioned a fun life, full of discovery and wonder.

Well, as they say, you need to be careful what you wish for. That is the kind of life I am living now. I stay in this hotel while I post this, the breakfast is served in the room and I can laze, read, daydream and think as much as I want. On the contrary, I have that option of sitting in the multitude little cafes that are lined up across the street or go shopping. But all I crave for now is to have some stability. I crave for a house that I can do my way, buy furniture, make it beautiful. A sister of mine once told me- we are people who like to be rooted and though I did not understand her context then, I do now. I like to come back to a home not not a hotel room, I like the familiarity of having my friends around me, to know what I need to wear when I am meeting people (no matter how shallow that may sound) and not ask his advise every time.

But mostly, I miss Delhi. I never realised how attached I was to that place. It is said to be unsafe, have the most uncultured people around along with some other insinuations. However, I was used to the brashness there, I was used to getting dressed if I was going for dinner, wearing heels and make up. I always thought that casual was more me, that I did care about what I wear but in the "I don't give a damn" sorta way, I miss my friends, I miss knowing my way around that city but mostly I miss my independence I had there.

Soon, I'll go back.. Just maybe..

A first of many..

It's been the longest ever and not without a reason. I am finally married now, moved cities and live in total ambiguity like never before. As my husband (there is a funny click to it on my tongue) sleeps next to me in total bliss, I manage to get the time and the inclination to post.

It has been a serious roller coaster ride, one that doesn't seem to end any sooner. I have doubted my decision a million times, prayed to God like never before to lead me, seen signs which am not sure were there or not, but finally made it. And am so glad I did!! In him not only I find my friend, but a kind and honest man who respects me and cares about me in an almost parental way. He trusts me, guides me and helps me, he wipes my tears and still fights with equal ease. He loves my parents and my family, and teaches me how to love his. I can go on about him, this crazy, funny man I've married but most importantly, he lets me be.

I guess my love story has finally begun..