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)

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?

Thanks,

Me

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?

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)