Just nonsense..

• Life changes after getting married: like so many relationships, it gives you wings and yet clips you down
•  Friends then, not so friends now.. Maybe a little more patience, attention and maturity would have found her in a better place or maybe it happens to everyone
• Parents are the only people who stall their lives for you, while we race ahead
• Getting nostalgic about home: Ma, Papa and that security I feel only with them. I refuse to grow up
• A little more practicality, some more sense and a control over emotions: she’s never found herself lacking in so many aspects all at once

Just what will it take to feel more in her skin, accept who she is..

Angry things..

You say things,
He says things,
The threshold is crossed,
You almost want to quit, give up.. 

Bloody, stupid insecurities..

It’s very strange- I have sort of a perfect life. I mean, one can be fussy about all that’s missing but once you compare it to what you have, it’s negligible. Still, yes “still”, I always fancy someone else's life. They are prettier, sizzling hot, more suave, more successful, brilliant orators, super intelligent, witty and funny, genuinely nice, dramatically lucky, excellent PR, stupidly ignorant, full of themselves- basically more in their skin.

And how I wish for a miracle..

Something funny's happening..

She needs a sign, just to be sure..

There's no letting go..

In the midst of everything vanishing, fading, losing essence,
the name stuck- "Sam"..

Fireworks..

It has been so many years and I think they’ve both moved on, they’ve achieved what they set out to in life. Being ambitious that they both were, no high will be too high but there is belief that they are content in their spaces, happy about the choices they made in the past and glad that destiny intervened when it did.

But I do get curious too- what if their paths cross again, if a conversation happens: will there still be fireworks..

Because saying goodbye is never easy..

I sometimes wonder how I can abandon this place for months- a place that has given me so so much that I can’t possibly put into words.

I remember finding my way here when I was heartbroken for the first time. Initially (and I hate to admit it), I began writing just to prove that it didn’t hurt, that I was too strong for a relationship to break me.  At that time, I wasn’t cynical enough and this place wasn’t personal enough so I posted the link on Orkut- not only could friends read it and testify for my bravery, but “he” could too and I knew that he would get sooo pissed off seeing that I was not that sobby girl who he’d left behind but someone who couldn’t care a damn. It was mission accomplished, or I’d like to believe so..

Slowly, I began writing more and weirdly enough people were reading me even though I’d removed my link from Orkut. I began sharing my fears of starting all over again (something I was going to do quite a few times in the years to come), of being around new people. When work got tough or I failed miserably in another relationship- this was my “go to” space, only this time the "boyfriends" weren't aware of here. Being that super private person I was, I wouldn’t write how I felt in as many words but indicated enough for me to vent out everything inside me. I never took names, never have, never will and that made it soo much easier. 

I also began reading so much on other spaces and they gave me strength, I’d made some nameless friends who just knew me and since there was no mandate to be nice/ be in touch all the time, I grew close to them through words only, it was just so simple. The intervention of Twitter made things change and a lot of people moved from here to there. Some things happened in my life too that made me stay away from here for long gaps- getting engaged and it not working out/ falling in love and not being reciprocated to name a few. So I usually visited this space in my bouts of melancholy, which were often too soon..

After a string of rubbish relationships, S happened and I stopped coming here as regularly as I did. He has become my “go to” person now- for everything! I know I will not be judged- just accepted, he gives me the same feeling that I get with my parents, of being loved unconditionally, of his having more confidence in me than I have on myself, laughing at my silliest of jokes, putting me to sleep, even telling me stories when I can’t; and I can obviously go on..

So the reason I am writing this is because it’s going to be a decade of here in July and when I go back to my earliest post, I didn’t have much to write about, to now when I am in a similar situation. I started because I was broken and now, after a decade when I think he fixed me I am tempted to say goodbye.

Let’s see..

Being corny..

And then I fell in love like one falls asleep:
Slowly and then all of a sudden..

Mercy..

I have been working for 10 years now and although it may not seem a lot but I’ve slogged all this while, tried doing complete justice to every facet, treated it like it’s my life. I have taken so much stress that I’ve lost hair and feel weird about how I look.

I have tried being fair and kept shut about things that have bothered me. Then why cannot I get that tiny bit of recognition that I so want. Why do I have to struggle for everything- money, respect, recognition, even acknowledgement. I might be doing something wrong and I have no idea what.

Mercy please..

Signs and more..

It's my birthday- again! So let's forget all about that and write what I came here to..

I have been feeding birds for years now. Everyday after my pooja (prayers), I scatter a palmful of lentils and some rice on the balcony and wait for birds, mostly pigeons to rush to them. 

While I was in Delhi, for almost 7 years, these little guys had learnt the timings. They'd already be waiting for me when I went out and by the time I was leaving the city, some of them had even begun eating out of my hand. 

I have been in Bangalore for a year and a half now and like always, scattered the grains everyday- only to see them go waste, until lately. A few days back when I left out food for the birds, I saw a pigeon fly to it. While I waited behind the balcony door, I somehow could sense it's anxiety while pecking at these. I smiled to myself, somewhat with relief even. The next day there were more of these birds so I increased the quantity and now there are about 12 pigeons that greet me in the morning. 

I felt relived because I've associated home with them, it's like my soul has accepted the place and this is it's way of communicating this to me. It's amazing, the sort of peace I feel when I see them pecking at the food I leave out for them and the joy when I wake up S to watch that scene with me is incredible..

I guess I am finally content now, from the inside..

And it's come down to this..

So my little nephew refuses to study and my sister scolds him:

N: What will you become when you grow up if you don’t study!

S: I will become a politian..

N: ??

S: If Modi can become the prime minister being a tea boy, I can too..

It's great that he’s 4 years old and so aware, and also that Modi can aspire anyone to become whatever they want to, and it does sound pretty great.

But like really.. 

The shedding process..

I cannot deny the fact that I’ve been in love quite a few times. And it has never been the casual sort of love, on the contrary it’s been the intense kinds where I have mostly wanted to spend the rest of our lives together.

I first fell in love when I was probably 17 years old. We were best friends in school and the irony is that we began dating only after we moved to different cities, meeting just once a year. Despite all that, it lasted 6 years and came very close to ending the way we wanted it to. That never happened and I was left with a lot of bitterness for a long time to come. I swore to myself, (the way we do when our hearts get broken for the first time), that I would never fall in love, never date, but mostly I learnt that I will never compromise what I wanted to be for anyone- and that was my first lesson in love.

The promise didn’t last long and before I knew it, I was dating again. Again in different cities, hardly meeting each other. Countries changed and breakups happened. This time however it was different, for once it was mutual so there were no tears as such, just a hollow feeling that you get when you revert to being single after years. Obviously I’d matured and things were easier- or so I thought.

The next one was sort of weird and am still not sure if I was seeing him. Stupid as it may sound, I actually didn’t know. I had been terribly attracted to this person for years but always thought that I was totally out of his league. Again different cities (which had become so my thing- I could compartmentalize my life, have my career, my own set of friends and not be answerable to anyone, rather bound by anything), but it was much more intense than anything I’d ever experienced. At one point I thought that I could never have a normal relationship after him, I’d become so used to not talking for months, or zero expectations that I had begun believing that’s probably how it worked. I had too much of pride and ego to even question what was happening. When this one ended, I thought my life would end and it didn’t. The wall I thought I’d built around myself came crashing down and I just went numb.

Not for long I must say! I began dating yet again and the similarity was so acute to the previous one that I thought that if I went through the trauma again, I might just collapse. So when S asked me out, I simply said yes. We were very good friends, he treated me like china, always took care of me and tolerated all my tantrums. I assumed that if he was soo good to me as a friend, he would definitely treat me well as his partner. I was starving for a normal relationship, where you could call the person anytime you wanted to, where you didn’t have to hide behind the wall and he gave me that and much more. The doubts I had about ever being in love again- without pride or ego and selflessly have long been shattered because that’s the kind of love I received and I simply had to reciprocate it.

The reason am writing the much hidden story of my life is because:

-        -  I have wanted to come out in the open for a very long time.

-        -  I couldn’t care less of what people think of me now

-          But mostly because whenever I've dated someone, I've never confessed of it in public. It's been like hiding it, and not telling about it to anyone. So when I read someone on insta of how she had fallen in love and couldn't care less what people thought of her, how she showed her excitement about meeting that person, it made me so happy.

 I realized that love is not a thing to hide.  When you give so much of yourself to a person, there is nothing to be ashamed of it. You were young, you made mistakes and you learnt or maybe didn’t but these will be with you for the rest of your life and mostly you’ll look back at them only with fondness- I do..

Making mistakes and such..

Maybe I will always be an outsider. Outsider to jokes, to bonding, friends, colleagues, relatives, everything..

I have never managed to make close friends, people never like me at first instance and mostly everyone gets inhibited by that invisible wall I seem to have created around myself. I make progress and then pushed back again. I move one step forward and end up in square one. I try to be kind and patient, maybe too much so, and then taken for granted.

I learn, only to forget as quickly. And then there’s no denying the fact that it hurts terribly..

Happy posts..

The "happiness" clippings make me feel soo good.. :) So I just thought I'd write things that make me happy:
- I feel overwhelmed by what I feel for him, its amazing to be in love with exactly the right person..
- I will live by the sea, maybe later in life..
- I was talking to Ma today and she said she didn't realise how quickly we grew up, she still thinks of us as little kids..
- Writing makes me happy

... :)

Easier said than done..

My sister's travelling and I am playing a long distance, temporary guardian to my teenage niece.
Bloody scary..

Broken things, not so broken now..

I've been reading someone's blog for a long time, she doesn't read mine. I could relate to her, similar qualms of singular status, cruel boys we got attracted to and who broke our hearts, fierce ambition, that perpetual need for freedom, the paranoia of being tied down, love for our family, big ego and larger pride, the endless list..

I recently found out that she's married now (like me) and I wonder how quickly these things happen and our worlds change. How you are so content in life that you just abandon this space (but can never stay away long enough). And how all the pain, pride and everything else transforms into absolute love for that one person around which your whole world begins to revolve now..

Getting curious..

I don’t think I am a very curious person as such. I usually take things at their face value and don’t introspect much about them. However, I have exceptions as always:

People from my past: I often wonder about them- how they are doing in life generally (not in a curious way, just how friends wonder about each other). If they are truly happy, barring what Facebook says, and mostly what will our conversation be like if we ever chose to connect back again. I can chose to stop thinking about it, simply pick up the phone and give them a call (I do remember most of the numbers from the non- cellphone days), but I just can’t bring myself to. I dread the what ifs of being taken wrong, of pride being hurt or being laughed at. And so I just don’t..

Homes: I love homes- they needn’t always be well done ones, just places with identity and character. Whenever I look at any photograph taken at somebody’s place, I sort of turn my head a little so that I might catch a glimpse of some more. I know that photographs aren’t three dimensional but it’s something that I can’t help- my inquisitiveness to see more. There are old places where things are depilated, furniture that’s gone old and rickety, the functional lines of one room merging to the other, I love that. And then the modern houses, with clean lines, beautiful light and organized clutter, with plants and such. To me, a home says more about people than shoes..

And with that I leave here with a picture of my house, my favorite place in the whole world..

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..