I Would Like To Go Back To Venus, Please...

At 26, I finally realise that the joke is on us women. And I am not bitter about it. I find it funny instead. Funny and even relived that I am freed from all illusions (Okay, maybe not all, just this one then. And I am sure there will be many more such epiphanies and I hope by then I will have learnt not to hit myself on the head with the "Why" bat but till such time, this is the "Oh My Gut" revelation of my life).

So okay, if this is how it is meant to be, this is how we shall do it. Countless women have made peace with it and so who am I so special to fight it? Nobody. I have to make peace with it too. And I have.


But you know what gets my goat? Why for the love of kittens (lot of expletives) did no one tell us all this? Like seriously dude? You told us not to trim our own bangs and you think this would not be important life-changing information?


But that's how life is, no one tells you the important bit and you have to learn it the hard hard way. Like I always say, it is unfair that they don't hand us some sort of a guide when we land here on this planet. Gross gross injustice.


G, I am finding it all very comical. I know you don't and I just hope you get over all this. I hope one day we can sit in some fancy bar with our fancy cocktails (or plain old beers) and look back at all this and feel nothing but calm and maybe even manage a chuckle, who's to know darling? :) Maybe we will! And I hope it's all soon.

(And I so wish you were here. Miss you so very much and equally hate you for being so goddamn far!)


And yes, I know there are no handbooks and that we have mothers instead, but listen, which daughter listens to her own mother? Right? And I know it's a tad bit too late but I accept: Mothers are right. Every daughter should listen to her mother. Even at 26. Remind me that often now.



P.S: It should be noted that I was not cribbing throughout. I am sure you will agree. I was merely, what do they say? Oh yes! I was merely "stating facts". Okay, doll?

Clipped Wings...

I am scared of being caught. Scared of being put in a pigeon-hole. Scared of someone telling me, you can't do this. I hate that. I can do anything. I want to believe that.


Friends often make fun of me when I tell them I am claustrophobic. I don't like small cramped places. Small rooms. The first time I heard about Vaishno-devi, I was scared and amazed. There's a small hole you need to pass through to enter the innermost chamber, and that to me seemed impossible. Every time someone talked about it, I saw myself stuck in it, always. As a kid, and this is funny, I believed, ardently so, that I was some sort of an angel (well, not like a nice person, but someone who could fly) and that I had come to earth for some reason and having done my job, one day, I would fly back to wherever I came from (Yep, stories, stories, I always loved listening to them and making up my own). I once dreamt in college that I could fly. I rose above the ground, very ethereal, and flew away from the living room window, like I was a light bird and my dad was trying to hold me back, like a kid who is trying to save a balloon that has escaped from its grasp. I told this to my family once, and we all laughed at how silly it was. Why am I so scared of being caught? What is all this struggle about?


I love windows, big windows; they represent freedom, an escape. As long as there's a window in the room, nothing can keep you tied down and helpless and locked. You can always flee.


I think I am running away from me. I think I am struggling to be free from my own grip.


There are so many things I want to do, and the only thing that's stopping me is, perhaps, me.  

I Fought For A Long Time Now...

"It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing. That is why the sadness passes: the new presence inside us, the presence that has been added, has entered our heart, has gone into its innermost chamber and is no longer even there, - is already in our bloodstream. And we don't know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can't say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate."
— Rainer Maria Rilke

*****
Much like that, one morning I woke up and realised I had changed. I still wore clips in my hair, much like a school girl, and still measured 26 at the waist, and I have it from a 19 year old guy that I can easily pass off as a 23 year old, if not 22(of course I am vain, darling); but my inner landscape had completely changed. So much so, that I now felt nothing like I did just 2 days back. When I told this to AP, he gave me that you're-crazy smile, ignoring my admission as some female whim, but inside I was struggling even as I said those words, I wish it was some whim. I feel like a woman these days. I don't feel like a girl anymore. How does that feel you ask me, the skeptical you, the curious you, and I say, I don't know, except that I know I am different now. Age is now a tangible thing. I can feel it between my fingers, heavy, I can smell it, like burning rubber, I can see it snaking through my life cutting my dreams short, and I can hear it constantly talking to me, telling me to calm the fuck down. It is driving me mad.


For the first time in my life, I sat down and sketched my future. For a person like me, who lives life as it comes, impulsive, I planned. I wrote down on a piece of paper- 2011, 2012, 2015....


That broke my heart. You'll argue that planning ahead is a good thing, but to me that was cheating. That was compromising. That was...dare I say...choosing what to dream?


All these years, I realise I was stuck at 22, blithely unconcerned about the hours ticking by...and then I suddenly realise I am 26 now.


It's safe to say I am freaking out like a pig that knows it is going to be butchered.


I remember waking up at an odd hour in the morn to loud cries one day. I was late in enrolling, and so my college had put me in a hotel outside the college premises. It was almost a dump, the hostel, and to add to that, there was an open field next to the hostel building where many pigs made home. My room window opened to dirty pigs for the whole one week I stayed there. And I remember waking up to loud unfamiliar cries, on the first day itself. I opened the window and I saw some two men trying to drag a pig into a tempo sort of a vehicle, the sun was just rising behind them. I almost wanted to cry for the pig, it desperately struggling to get away and run away and not die, its cries painful.


I feel pretty much like that pig now.


I can not be a free spirit anymore. I will be tied down. I just pray I have the fortitude to go through with what will come next.


But god, I am miserable. 

The Hand That Feeds...

Today Apeksha pinged and asked me if I was okay with her talking to S.


Apeksha and I were talking about my moving and then we were laughing about the movie KKKG, and about my role as "pooh" in final year play, and out of the blue, this. For a moment, I felt dizzy.


I know it was not very mature on my part to forbid my best friends from talking to S. But I did it anyway.


Here's the thing. If I love you, I would not hesitate to even wash your feet and drink that water, but when you're out of my life, I take everything away. If it was possible, I would even want to erase every single memory of me from the minds of people I oust from my life. I am extreme in my love and hate.


My friends are my family. And I was hurt and I was not okay with them talking to someone who has hurt me.


And, yes, I knew by asking Apeksha not to keep in touch with S, I was in a way hurting him. I knew it would affect him.


I knew it was a wrong thing to do. And my sweet girlfriends, except G of course(Who is also a sweetheart, but just more practical to give into something like this), agreed without a single why. They understood they said. I do have sweet friends, no?


So Apeksha, I am okay. He was your friend too. He's been a good friend to you. Yes, I still want to keep you with me and not have you talk to S. But I don't have that right, even as your best friend, I do not.



Things happen, fuck ups happen, people you love don't always love you back, you get hurt and you don't always do the right thing.


But it's not too late for me to do the right thing. I am sorry I kept you away from a friend.

Saying Yes...

Sometimes I feel the real me is hidden in the drafts.

In words, that never get heard, published; words that are scared to come out lest they be rejected for being too simple. Too honest. Too painful. Cruel even.

I have 311 drafts sitting in my Gmail and 395 in blogger.

So many conversations that never happened. 

Mango And A Jackfruit...

What do you say of a girl whose worst fear is that she would turn out to be like her mother?

Truth And Dare...

I have eaten enough grapes to make a barrel full of wine today and so I am going to use that as an excuse to totally write things I shouldn't be writing. But I do stupid things when drunk like drop cabbage in my dress and shout loudly, "There's cab in my tra, someone remove it". Or then refuse any assistance and go fall from the stairs and cry loudly much to the embarrassment of everyone. And nice friends console thinking I am crying over a guy, but in reality I am crying cause I have hurt my ass so bad, it's black-blue the next day, from the fall :|. Now that I have exhibited enough stupidity, let's play a game, shall we? Truth or Dare anyone? Oooooh, lookie! The bottle points at me! Awesome! Let's get started with it then. Without further ado, let me begin.

Are you ready then?

Okay. So it was a dark stormy night...and I was sitting by the window, my poor little window, and I wondered, like I always do. About what? What else do you think? About the only thing this blog has been hearing for the past 20 years or so (promise after this I will  write only about football, food, Laetitia Casta and maybe economics)

Anyway, heartbreaks and failed romantic relationships are a part of everyone's lives. And we always want things to work out but they don't and we are left to wonder why. If there's one word that has featured with unfailing regularity in my life, it is the word-Why (From the time I could speak, mum says, I always asked questions. Why this happens, why that happens, why I can't do that, why you can't do that, etc etc. (Yes, I have always been a pain). She had only one answer to my constant whys-I don't know. Smart her. And so, disappointed and angry I would decide to find the whys myself and I would find the answers too! Smart me too :)).


I am sure people spend much thought over why a certain friendship fails. A parent-child relationship? And I am sure many grey cells are used up pondering over why a romantic relationship failed. And I wondered too. And every time I thought, I blamed destiny. Maybe it wasn't meant to be I would say. Since we are playing truth or dare, the truth is that it isn't the truth. And I can't run away from the truth any longer. I need to face the truth and act on it. Trouble of being 26, you need to own upto things you don't want to. It's called growing up :| Anyway,  I can't be lying and cheating myself like this- by refusing to accept the truth and blaming destiny, blaming them, blaming my astrologer, blaming friends, blaming anything and everything, except myself-I need to put the blame where it belongs.


The truth is, I am scared of being in a relationship. I crave companionship and love and romance, as much as the next girl, but the minute I get close, I run away from it. I get claustrophobic. I go back and forth in my mind about wanting to be with this guy. Should I? Should I not? (Bloody nonsense!) The minute the guy shows any emotions (even supposed emotions), I freak out. Next course of action? I find flaws in him. I find reasons why things won't work. I find excuses to walk away. I look for anything that will give me a reason to run away. I just need one reason to walk away and I take it and I run with it. I walk away emotionally.


I have liked intelligent strong men. Who knew what they wanted, all along. Who were sure if they wanted to be with me, or not. It was me, who was never sure. It was me being indecisive. It was me, acting out and not wanting things and not appreciating when I had them and then crying when I didn't have them. It was me driving them to a point where they no longer were sure too.


Unnecessary drama and complication, friends will say. I agree, but at the root, it was fear acting out.


I remember heaving a sigh of relief when a certain relationship ended. And later I sat by the window and cried about it for days. Nay, months. I did the same with the next and okay, I am giving away the count now.


Thing about relationships is that it won't ever flourish, unless both people are ready to be honest with each other. Unless there's truth and trust. Unless there's transparency. I am ashamed to say, I have never been honest, in a way, that I have always kept myself aloof, hidden. I have never been vulnerable. I was too scared to be vulnerable. I don't think I ever did justice to any of those guys. Cause while they lay there bare, naked emotions and dreams, heart and mind, I heard and looked, but I hid myself cause I was so afraid.


I am not strong (unlike what friends think) or perfect (no one anyway thinks that) or even close to perfect (not even that). I am flawed, blemished and hurt and weak and sappy, extremely silly, confused, and really really scared. And I am a coward (And you'd never know it). Right now, being vulnerable is the hardest thing for me. But I need to be okay with being vulnerable. I need to be okay with being seen as flawed and imperfect. I need to stop being scared and evasive and, unemotional. Really! For the love of God, am I making this into a very trashy melodrama? Oh, who am I fooling! It's tougher than climbing the everest. Being Vulnerable. Cause I have never done it. Good lord!

But I guess, this is the first step toward me being vulnerable. It begins right here for me. I need to hit that publish button! :|

Alright, look, I don't like hogging all the limelight. Let's hear you talk now, okay starfruit? Humour me.


P.S: I am going to so regret eating grapes tomorrow morning.

P.S.S: Munira, I am so envious of you. You could always so easily be vulnerable.You always stood there fearless with your flaws, joked about them even, and you so easily shared your fears. You could so easily cry about your failures and I wouldn't shed one tear, lest I be seen weak. You could so easily talk about your shortcomings, about your imperfections, and that endeared you to me, to everyone I know. Even when you were so wrong, you never judged yourself. And I always envied you for that quality of yours. Never lose it. 

The Art Of Losing...

2010 was a cruel teacher. It taught me lessons I didn't want to learn, made me face truths I scarcely imagine existed, it made me look deep inside me, it showed me my ugly side but worst of all and funnily, maybe even the best, was when it pushed me into that deep dark well on whose edge I have always stood, trembling knees, shivering body and a breath stuck in my throat, 2010 finally pushed me into that well. I fell down, splintered into pieces, my happy world splattered on the walls of the well, I lay bleeding and just when I was about to breathe my last, it offered me its hand and told me to stand up again. And in all that, it gave me a precious thing: It taught me how to lose. To cope with loss. How to be completely alone, without even those who gave me birth.

*****
I remember it was summer holidays and Priya and I were loitering around in her society when we found out Pinky's mother had died. I was only in my 5th grade. I had never heard of death before. I had never seen a dead body before. I knew something like death existed, I wasn't that naive, but by all means, it was an alien concept to me.

Pinky's mom's story spread like wildfire through the town. She was in love with another man; she knew she could not marry him. Pinky's family was one of the well known families in the town and her mother's love affair had become the talk of the town. There were constant fights at home, and finally it all had led Pinky's mum to commit suicide.

I remember standing a few days later at the same spot, with Priya, where Pinky's mother had apparently lain while waiting for the morning fast train, and wondering, "Will it be my mom next?". And if so, will dad bring another mom home? Will she be like Pinky's step mother? I was afraid even before I fully understood what it meant to be afraid.

I remember sitting by the window at 2am in the night praying to god to please send Dad back home. I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving us, his threats indigestible.What would happen to us? I knew mom couldn't work. What will I tell my school friends if I had to drop out of school? I could never grapple with it.

Looking back, I realise, I have lived my entire life being afraid. Afraid that someone I love, someone I care about, someone whom I am dependent on will leave me and then what will become of me? I have lived in constant fear; fear that first parents would leave, then friends, then the men in my life.

And I never realised it, but this fear was all pervasive, under the covers, invisible, but always present. Subconsciously affecting everything I did. I loved people more than I loved myself. Not because I am noble, but because I was selfish. I loved them, 'cause I was scared they would leave me. So I loved them. So I could keep them with me, close to me. And I never learnt to cope with loss. My losing mechanism permanently damaged, broken.

That acquaintance I don't give a rat's ass about? Let him stop talking to me and see how I go in my panic mode. I can't handle it. I can't see anyone walking out of my life. Why do I care so much about what others think of me? 'Cause I can't afford to have them think bad about me. Cause wouldn't that mean they would just leave me? I ran after people who didn't matter, after fake friendships, after hollow relationships, 'cause though they didn't matter, and somewhere I knew they didn't matter, I could never be okay with losing anyone. I hoarded relationships, people, like an ant would hoard food, saving it for a cold wintry evening.


So much energy lost in preserving friendships that didn't matter. So much love lost. So much time spent in mending broken relationships that weren't ever meant to be. So much lost, in this quest for not losing.


And then one day you realise you anyway have lost it all. You anyway have lost them all. You don't have them after all that running around, after all that begging, pleading, loving. And you sit dumbfounded and you realise how truly alone you are. And that's how everyone is. And that, it's okay.

And that's what you learn, when you learn to fend for yourself, you understand that nothing bad can ever happen.You can still survive.

*****
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
--Elizabeth Bishop

An Honest Word...

So much to think about, so much to talk about, so much to write about...so much!:)

But just one lesson: Don't be scared to expect the best.

*****
It hurts, I feel very very sad, but the truth is that you have left my world. And the one person with whom I could share my sadness has left me too.

*****
And no matter what happens, no matter what fucking happens, a woman never forgets that one guy she truly loved. She still weeps in the dark, sobs in the arms of her best friend and she still thinks about him, everyday. Everyday.

*****
Why do you want to get married he asked. We hated each other. But we were talking now and I would be lying if I said I did not like it much. He is against marriage. Never wants to get married. I looked at him, him trying really hard to sound confident and look all nonchalant. You know the "I am a stud and I can bang 50 chicks at even 40, why do I need marriage" look? He had one. And he looked good with it too.

Companionship I said. I want someone to share my life with. I am lonely.

He made some joke out of it and started digressing. Changed the topic, I let him. But just for one second, just for one second, before the shutters came down, I saw his vulnerable side. He was as lonely and as scared.

Somewhere, yes, it felt good.

*****
Don't ignore the one who has it, to make the one who does not have it feel good. The one who has it, probably needs some loving too.

The Bridges Of Life...

Most people love with their heart. I want to love with my mind, soul and heart.

*****
I really want to go back to being 22 today. I don't think I have ever felt so desperate to bring the old days back. Ever.

*****
I have always gone after the wrong things, wrong people. I have wasted all these years, chasing all the wrong things.

And it crushes me to know that.

*****
I have always been a dreamer. I have always dreamt of another world that does not exist and I fear, never will.

Break...

Sometimes I can be such a pain. Really, I have great friends who put up with me :D