Friday, November 16, 2012

The Grown Ups.

I was talking to a very good friend the other day and she said something that startled me- 'I don't believe in the concept of besties, that's such a childish idea.' That might shock some of you. Not just the idea that she doesn't believe in besties, but the idea that it's a childish concept! I mean commmmon, can you imagine your life without a bestie in it? I certainly can't. And the funny part is, I know her really well, and I know for a fact that she does in fact, have three solidly SOLID besties that she spends almost every waking moment with.

So the problem with it was the label? Calling a spade a spade?

Like I said, the most astounding part for me was that she claimed that it was childish, a concept that was really only till 'like class 4 or something'. 

My mouth hung open. While some may consider it childish, upon further reflection, I can only stretch to think of it as 'child-like'. And really, with the kind of magic there is in child-like imagination or thought or ideas, I can't imagine why people wouldn't want to have more of it.

As I grow older, I'm realising more and more that growing up essentially means belonging to a restrictive group of people- 'the cool group' that isn't immature. That group that does grown up things like dissing the concept of birthday parties, and bragging (yes, really, bragging) about how romance is for the fools.

Why do we get more cynical with every year that passes, although we discover so many new things everyday? Why, as a race, do we get more pessimistic with every birthday that goes by? And worst of all, why do we insist that people around us should be exactly that way, otherwise quickly damning them to the childish/immature bracket? 

The bewildering question is- why on earth does being a grown up mean that we lose our ability to dream of good things, to have faith in stuff and/or lose all sense of imagination?

I'm turning 27 in a couple of days and the one thing I'm damned sure about is that I never want to lose my sense of wonder. It'll be my one wish when I blow my birthday candles this year (if the birthday cake is too childish for you, too bloody bad- deal with it :P ).

Monday, October 22, 2012

Where is the female Chaucer?

An excerpt that I really loved from 'Fear of Flying' by Erica Jong-

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Technically, my soulmate.

I was on a Girlfriend Date the other day- we were going to lunch, coffee and then a movie. And it was a super fun day! We talked about exes, current crushes, bitchy bosses, 50 shades of Grey and how that'll maybe make men better in bed (I read a statistic that after reading the book, women wanted to go at it 50% more with their men and the men were now feeling the pressure- go, Christian Grey!), places we'd like to vacation, and all of that girly kind of thing. Jokes were shared, gossip was gleaned, secrets were whispered and in the middle of it all, VB and I were making love to our phones. We were busy instagramming pictures of the chandliers at the quaint place we were having lunch at, or tweeting about how much fun we were having- Hashtag #GirlsDayOut.

SO, at one point, one of the girls, PB, got furious at VB and me, and stalked off (she didn't leave or anything- just walked away in disgust for a tad!). VB and I were trying to figure out what caused that dramatic reaction. Wasn't being on the phone only natural, given the day and age? What's the point of doing something if you aren't putting it there on social for the world to see- wait, that sounded so wrong. 

But seriously, look around. Everyone is on their phones. And sometimes I can agree with P, it's annoying. Like smoking zones used to be the best place for fun, unpressurised conversation. I've made many a great new friends just by hanging out with people in the smoking zone. Smoking zones are areas where people are gathered to do one thing that binds them together- smoke. And in the meanwhile, chat about one thing or the other- whether it's Gangnam style's ridiculous fame or how the auto rickshaw prices just leaped up into the sky. 

Now, though.. everyone who comes to the smoking zone just zones out and zones into their phones. All random conversation has died a tragic death. It's like the phone has replaced a person. Or rather, it's like phone is your new best friend, a second shadow. Something that will give you company, anywhere, any time- all you need is a charged battery (have you seen how near death look on someone's face when their phone's running out of battery?). 

Your bf/gf/spouse may be boring you to tears on a dinner date, your bus may be late, you might not be able to fall asleep, your flight maybe 12 hours too long- but fear not! The Smart Phone is here, in a cape and all. Take your pick- Anything from angry birds to organising your day to throwing sheep at a friend on Facebook. Or if you're me- reading a grand ole book on a tiny screen. Your phone is the best friend you never had, a soul mate like none other. It loves you, chooses you and wants you - it's your Derek Shepherd and Christina Yang, rolled into one. Beat that, byatch!

As is obvious above, I have no final word on this- I'm as guilty as the next person who's obsessed with and makes goo-goo eyes at their phones, and I'm also as irritated as the next person who hates how anti-social (how ironic) our phones make us. 

But what can I say- it's my technical soulmate :)

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Ruin Me.

You ruin me.

Every time you touch me. Every time you smile at me. Every time you even frown at me, with those brown eyes that are capable of setting my body on fire.

And I ask myself ...why do I do this to myself? I tell myself- never again. I say to myself that there has to be an end to this. 

Then you say my name- a whisper, so simple, as if it's nothing... I watch mutely as I see your mouth making the shape of my name, and slowly, very slowly, it floats toward me, the sound touching my ear, ever so softly- before it explodes. 

And I'm ruined all over again. 

The trouble is I'm never more alive. Every time you ruin me, even my tears sparkle. The heartache makes me touch the moon.

Call me a fool, but I am willing to lose it all to feel that high. Because I can't bear to exist in the the silence. 

So, go ahead, ruin me again.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Face Me.

Look ahead
Face me
Don't look away.

 I'm the loudest noise,
The strongest voice 
In your head.

I'm dark grey
And the silver flicker
I'm the shiver.

I'm calm
I'm quiver 
I'm your fever.

I'm the oldest
Older than your oldest

I melt and I roar
I swell and I soar.

Within you
And outside you.

I'm every one of your souls.
I make you empty
And whole.

I am the sea.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Be Strong For Me.

You've gotta go. 
You've got to leave.

Find the world.
Find you.
Find me.
Find us.

Get out!
But you better be strong for me.

Don't cry,
Don't look back.

We'll be together soon
When it rains, you'll smell me
In the moonlight you will drink me
So you better be strong for me.

Don't think too much,
Don't frown too hard.

Listen.. listen close,
You can hear me think
and I can hear you breathe.
So you better be strong for me.

Don't stay.
Don't ask me to come with you.

You don't need me 
Be brave and look ahead.
Don't cry.
Just be strong.

Not for you,
But for me.

Friday, August 17, 2012

After The Chase.

Boy and Girl meet at a ball (or in today's scenario a club/ coffee shop/ office/ college), boy is mesmerized with Girl. Boy asks Girl to dance. Boy is even more under-the-spell after dancing with Girl. Girl blushes, but, alas, it's 12am, she's gotta go. She secretly wants to stay, because after all, Boy has flattered a thousand butterflies into her tummy. But her fairy godmother told her boys can be treacherous liars, so please to be back by 12am (even fairy godmothers probably had their hearts broken/ flattered into bed, only to find out it's a one night stand). 

So Girl comes back almost in the nick of time, but she cleverly leaves a clue for Boy. Boy goes all around town, state, hell, country, galaxy, starships... climbs grand mountains, picks the lone orange-purple flower off a edge of a cliff, travels to a star, eats rotten cheese, meets Yoda, and asks him what the hell this clue means. After answering 16 of Yoda's wittiest riddles and jumping through varied sizes of rings of fire, Yoda gives him the answer he seeks to go get his woman. 

Boy returns and tells Girl of his grand feats. Girl is thrilled, flattered and convinced that this boy really, truly loves her. He's her The One. Girl's mummy, daddy, chaachi, granduncle and his nephew give their consent and the couple are married, walking away into the sunset... happily ever after.

But what happens after the sun rises again? The chase is over, the girl is won, and home and hearth have been set up. A year or three down the line, peek into that house to hear thunderous fights between Girl and Boy. The story is one you've heard before- Boy is spending too much time on the x-box and at the local bar. Girl is missing all the over the top adoration that was thrown her away in the initial part of the romance and is crying, no, screaming her lungs out about feeling lonely. Boy looks confused and confounded, as if to say, did go to that star and climbs those mountains for you, yo know- can't I just play God of War with my boys now?

...And on and on they fight every night, until one day, girl packs her bags and walks out on Boy. OR Girl meets other Girls whom this has happened to and has kitty parties with them, where the primary topic of discussion is the fact that all men suck and the most oft repeated sentence is, 'Yes, they're all the same- it's always about the chase".

Recently, I've heard a couple of my girlfriends (some married, some in long term relationships) complaining about this phenomena- The Lull After The Chase. At first, this had me depressed. But then my analytical mind took over- or tried to. Why does this happen? Are women unnecessarily needy? Or do men over promise and under deliver? To begin with- is this whole Chase thing even real? Or is the whole concept of the Chase a figment of everyone's imagination?

Most men I spoke to laughed at me (trying to be obtuse?), and the few brave ones who decided to speak up told me that the Chase was not a myth. It was as real as anything else. And yes, they consider the first few months/ years (duration is apparently dependant on several factors) highly exciting, because they're so caught up in trying to impress the girl and convince her that he's indeed worth it. One even said, 'So, yeah, once the chase is over and I have the girl, why would I want to do anything more? I can't keep bringing her the moon, can I? Besides, I don't know why she doesn't understand that was then and this is now."

So my grand conclusion is... well, I have none. As one of my roomies used to say,  "Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them."

Monday, July 30, 2012


Being consumed by a bitterness
That is not me.
They are the beasts of yesterday,
A semblance of the demons that were.

I struggle, I beat, I scream
I cave... and I try to breathe.
I give in, scramble, I swim.
Always up, towards a silver line.

I won't be trampled, no.
Because you,
You cannot tell me who I am.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Quotes I love

"Perhaps we are each allotted only a certain amount of love-- enough for only an initial meeting-- a serendipitous clumsiness."

Isn't that a beautiful thought? Sad too, but beautiful nonetheless.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

The Tortoise People

@googlefacts defines them as Philophobes (philophobia is the fear of emotional attachment that often leads to expectations that end in disappointment). 

But I like to give them a special name- The Tortoise People. The people that put their shells on every time someone comes near them. The ones that have a mental knee-jerk reaction everytime you try to connect with them emotionally. The ones that are emotionally unreachable. 

Not to be confused with the peeps that are emotionally awkward, popularly known to have the emotional IQ of a cockroach. 

No, no. These people are different- the Tortoise folk are jaded, cynical and scared.

I would know, I used to belong to the clan. And then I realised it don't work for me, no.

And I'll tell you why, but let me ask a couple of questions to begin with- Would you not eat something absolutely lip-smackingly delicious because you're too afraid you'll love it and then never be able to eat it again? Would you live like a poor person all your life because you're afraid that if you get rich, you'll lose it all? I'm assuming the answer is mostly no, so then why would you allow yourself to not love- a person, an idea or a dream?

We're going by the assumption that the Tortoise People are afraid to emotionally invest because they're afraid of the impending disappointment, brought on by expectation. But I ask you, what is life without an expectation? A dream? A hope? 

I constantly hope I will eat good food for lunch, wear beautiful clothes, or travel to all the sorts of new places. I expect it out of my life. And what would I be if I didn't? Soulless? Someone who didn't feel at all- the bad or the good?

Upon badgering a few close friends who are hard-core cynics, here's what I heard- "It helps you be prepared, for the bad stuff that will inevitably happen." But that's defeatist, isn't it? Like someone once said, life is what happens to you when you're busy preparing for it. So don't prep, just live. With mad, reckless abandon, full-heartedly.

Our lives are closely intertwined with so many people's lives and circumstances. Bad things do happen, and whether you like it or not, you will never be able to control it all. And it'll most likely happen in a way you didn't expect it to. Because you see, life is cheeky like that. It sneaks up on you, rubs its hands and grins with glee, and makes you face your very worst fears. 

So here's my attitude towards it- I will love everything. I will love every rainbow I see, every raindrop that falls on my nose, and every person who makes me smile silly. I will brave my tears with grace, my disappointments with hope and my heartbreaks with strength. Because at the end of it all, I want to have lived. I want to have loved. I want to have felt every emotion there is to feel. 

I don't just want to drift through my life, I want to experience it. 

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

What is this place we call home?

In the last nine months I've had 5/6 homes. 

1. My original home (the one I was living in before my life took that 360 degree spin) 
2. My friend's home in New York 
3. My parents home in Bangalore
4. My in-between guest house in Bombay 
5. My best friend's house in Bombay 
6. My new house in Bombay.

They say home is where your heart is. 

But that's kind of confusing, isn't it? My heart is here today and somewhere else (and maybe even with someone else) any other day. It's a fickle fellow, that one.

Some people really like the idea of not having a 'home'. They love moving houses, cities, countries; never being in one place for more than a few months. They thrive on the difference in scene. They call it 'exploration'.

It seems more like running away to me. 

Because if I wanted a change of scene I'd take a vacation. For a month, or six.

Then I'd want to come back to my home, my bed, my people, my pets. Things I call my own and people that call me their own.

There's something about belonging that's addictive and endearing :)

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

That Thin Line

SO, recently I've been wondering about that thin line. Yes, you'll know which one I'm talking about. We've all been there.

Here's how the story goes- Girl meets a super fun boy. Boy and girl hang out- a little bit in the beginning and A LOT, very soon after the beginning. If they're not hanging out, they're texting 24/7, emailing each other funny things they found online, exploring new places in town together, meeting each other's friends etc. Mad bonding ensues with crazed swapping of stories. And oh, the LAUGHS. Many, many laughs. 

In all of this, 

Girl is wondering if this has the potential to go somewhere (and being over-analytic as the female species is, she's putting things into a pros and cons tables, for 'perspective' you know?).

Boy has two thought bubbles- 1. Do I like her? 2. Should we bonk?

There are two possible outcomes. 

a) Girl and boy decide they enjoy each other's company a lot and that they would like to take it to the next level and get into a relationship 
b) Girl and boy decide they enjoy each other's company a lot, so they don't want to risk turning it into a relationship

Oh, and a third outcome- Girl/boy blurts out the truth about their feelings for the other and the other respectfully (with many awkward pauses) backs out and the whole situation is a muck.

So, you see there is that thin line between intersex bestfriend-ship. Because all that separates this platonic relationship from a full fledged relationship is a few whispers, a couple of confessions and kiss or two (that, or a drunken night with lots of 'mistake' sex).

Certainly is food for thought, no?

Monday, May 21, 2012

On the rocks.

"With my back towards the whole world, I sit hoping for some sanity. Facing my fears like a deep calm sea."

(In the words of new Bombay bestie, AC)

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Nightly Rambles

Sell your soul
To only that which shakes it.

For there is no shame 
In bowing your head,
To that which mends the cracks in your spirit.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Nightly Rambles

I've always thought that my most poetic moments come to me when I'm just about to sleep. I usually think ok, nice, I'll write it out tomorrow (I know, lazy me- I bet my muse doesn't feel good about that), but inevitably the next morning, I always forget my profound thoughts.
Last night however, staring at my fan, unable to sleep, I whipped out my phone and decided to write out the four-liner poetic ramble in my head. Here you go. 

I let my pain wash over me.
It looks like a picture whose colors are fading.

For only after the rain in the middle of a sunny afternoon
Does the rainbow shine like the only star in the sky.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Bombay Blues

If someone had asked me if I thought my life would be so different (in every single aspect) 6 months ago, I would’ve laughed, called them dreamers and asked them to go write the script of a K series prime-time drama (sans the bahu and saas). Seriously, my life has felt very much like the complicated plot of a movie/ book over the last six months.

The best part of it? My salvation? It’s got to be my move to the big (bad?) world of Bombay. 

When I say Bombay Blues, I mean it in two ways-

1. Blues as in sad. Like Monday blues. Like it depresses me kinda blues.

Despite the population of 12.4 million, there are times when you feel so very alone, you can’t help but cringe. Every man and woman (and child!) is on a mission every single day. If you’re in their way, they’ll push and shove until you’re moved aside and out of the way. Life moves so quick here you don’t realise how Monday started and how you arrived at Friday. You live life from one taxi to another, from one train to another, from one morning to the other. Never stopping, never skipping a beat.

There are days when I realise that I don’t do anything other than work and commute. That I had zero  social contact with another human being. In those ten minutes between when my head hits the much-sought-for pillow and I actually fall asleep, I realise the impact of the lack of social contact and the sense of loss I feel for it.

And I feel slightly bad.

Just for those ten minutes.

When I wake up the next morning, it’s forgotten and I just get on with it.

     2.Blue- blue as in my favourite colour. As in the colour I associate with mad-happy-grinning. As in the mood that Bombay has me in most of the time.

I’ve always had some of my best memories in Bombay. With a boy I fancied, with crazy girlfriends, with cousins at weddings. But for some reason I didn’t want to live here. Not ‘now’ anyway. I thought if I actually lived here my illusion of Bombay being the city of dreams would be shattered. I kept making excuses- ‘No, no. It’s too hot.’  ‘It’s waaaaaaay too expensive, I’ll move only when I’m making mad-crazy money like the Khans do.’ (ha, dream on)

‘And life has a funny, funny way of helping you out,’ sings Alanis M, and I agree. When I was going through what maybe the most confused and lost time in my life ever, it sent me Bombay. And that too, to work at a super fun place and hang out with some of my most favourite people who live here. I think back now and I’m wondering why the hell I made excuses to not move here.

It’s like being in an amusement park/ circus. You have the crazy-fast-head-is-spinning ride that is everyday life, the freak shows and the clowns, the supremely good street food, the magicians (there’s so much jhol in this city, you can’t help but smile in wonder), the entertainers, the show-offs, the ridiculously good looking people...

And in the middle of it all, when you stand still for one minute, you realise you can be anonymous and still feel like you’re just a part of the madness as everything and everyone around you is. It’s a beautiful, smile-bringing, liberating, welcoming feeling.
In the three short weeks that I’ve been here, Bombay has me wrapped around its little finger. I’m dancing to its beats and I’ve discovered despite the heat, the dirt, the super fast pace, what was previously just a school-crush girl is turning into falling, spiralling helplessly in love affair!

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

When I'm older.

When I grow old
I want to have been
The woman the sun has kissed 
And the moon has seen.

There are many stories of mine
Yet to be told
I wonder what the lines
On each palm may hold.

When I grow old
I want to have been
A woman both wise and bold
With the heart of a girl who's sixteen.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

You complete me.

Dear Calling,

Must I be 90 years old and unable to carry you out before you show yourself?

No, I thought not.

So, would you call out to me louder please and make your presence felt?


I’ve spent the last few months wondering what this thing we call our Calling is. Is it something we just do everyday and do it well? Is it something that has been pre-ordained for us before we even came into being? Is it something that’s given out to us in a Sunday fair for a fee? Is it something we have to spend our whole lives looking for- i.e, is it our Calling to look for our bloody Calling?

From time to time, I wonder if we have romanticized the idea of our Calling as much as we have romanticized the idea of romance. Is it a once in a lifetime thing that we do? If yes, once you’ve achieved it, what happens after?

The whole bloody thing drives me nuts sometimes.

Here’s what I’d like to think- I’d like to believe that your Calling is something you are good at – you’re not necessarily the best at it in the whole, entire world, but it’s the best of you. Your Calling is your contribution to life around you with a combination of the best of your talents.

It’s what puts the blue in the sky and the green in the grass.
It’s what makes your life complete. 

On that note- you know that knight in shining armour guy? Or that prince we’ve always been told about that ‘covers up your void’ (oh, don’t be perverse now), and ‘completes you’? That’s kind of a myth.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not being cynical. Love is beautiful, the prince is oh-so-charming, and ya-dee-ya-dee-da. But here’s the deal- no one else can complete you but you. You have to be your own complete version before you can be with someone and give to someone.

In Jerry Maguire, when Tom Cruise tells Renee Z, “You complete me,” I don’t think he was lying; I think he simply stretched the truth (and you can’t blame him- at that particular time in the movie, he really needed a good speech to win the girl). But his statement had a context.

His context was that he had that kickass sports agent thing going for him, so the only thing he needed to complete the picture of his life (not really complete him, so to speak), was the girl.

What I’m saying is simple- Only you can write your story. Only you can fill yourself up. Everything else and everyone else is a blessed add-on; a bonus.

Ultimately, if there is one thing that can complete you, it’s you, and the best chance of doing that is by getting acquainted with one Mr.Calling.

The Calling, I believe, is the best sum of your being. The Calling is your raison d’etre. The Calling is your best chance of feeling like a valuable, real and complete person.

Question is- how does one get their Calling to call out a little bit louder?

Friday, February 3, 2012

Quotes I love

I found this one recently- it perfectly matches what I'm thinking about right now.

"The final mystery is oneself."

~Oscar Wilde

Thanks, Mr. Wilde. You didn't give me the answer to my 'mystery'. But just by mentioning it, you made me feel like less of a head-case. I can now publicly admit to pondering over this for a suspiciously copious amount of time, without being judged as loco!

(More thoughts on this in my next post)

Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Game Of Life

Sometimes I feel like life is one big video game; an almost evil one at that. 

You eat those gold coins, knock down all the bad guys, level after level, and make your way to rescue that kidnapped princess. As you go higher up, a Trojan turtle with a face as ugly as sin and wings monstrously large, throws a bomb at a you, and before you realise what's going on, it explodes in your face. Now in any other normal, good-guy video game, you’d go back to the last level you were on. But this video game, this nasty version, is an evil muhahahaha kinda guy- he picks you up and throws you back to Level One. Game over really means Game over.

You punch the wall, cuss like it's soon going out of fashion, and exit the room.

One would think that's the end of it. And it could be, but...

I actually suspect that playing those initial levels all over again would be more fun than one would think it to be. Getting past that snarly rabid dog, or eating that mushroom that gives you extra life, or killing that ghastly three-headed warlock... It's now your second chance to go into that enchanted castle that you totally didn't pay attention to the first time you went there, because all you wanted to do was get out and complete the level. 

So in some sense, I like that Game Over means Restart. Sometimes reboots are essential, if not thoroughly enjoyable. 

It gives you a chance to really open your eyes, smell that smell, and taste that coffee. It gives you a chance to redefine and do everything you didn't do the last time around. Even if it just means taking timeouts or pee breaks.

Because you see, when we start out, we all look around in wonder, to give awe to the awesome, and enjoy the ride. Somewhere in between, that changes and it starts becoming only about the end.

Maybe the Restart is actually a blessing we didn't think to ask for. So now that we've got it, it's time to give it a shot, and really appreciate the game.