Men and Myopia

The thing with being in love is that you become the most annoying person ever. Especially if you're a girl. Your uncalled for, eternally sunny disposition can be of gross irritation to an entire nation and its populace. But see, being in love, especially falling in love, is the best, most blinding feeling in the world. It doesn't matter who thinks what, as long as the apple of your affection is twinkling away at you. It makes you ecstatic, but also seriously myopic. 

The leading cause of my myopia is Funny Men. Let me explain-

I was watching Louis CK the other night and he's, MY GOD, such a riot! My insides were instinctively curling with want. Imagine a man who can make me laugh all day; why wouldn't any woman want that. I proceeded, in my usual obsessive gusto, to look him up online. Somewhere among lots of videos and text, here is what I found him say, "Marriage is just a larva stage to true happiness- which is divorce!" Followed by lots of laughs I'll admit, some even awkward, and sure I'll consider it very talented writing- merely a script, but it suddenly made me realise why I'd sworn off the funny boys and their stupid funny bones. 

Funny guys are my cryptonite. Or have become, I have come to realise. 

Take the desi-type-funny guy I dated when I was 21. Or the subtle-but-hilariously-funny guy I dated when I was 23. Or the whiny-funny guy when I was 27. They have two things in common. They were funny. And they were seriously immature. Like a special kind of immature (read escapist) that deserves a brand new adjective to describe it. 

FunnyGuy #1: Having lived in the south of India most of my life, my exposure to real-life people who could tell really great jokes in Hindi was limited. Very limited. I met him through work, and I admit I kind of didn't like him too much when I first met him. Actually, scratch that. I kind of hated him. He was new levels of difficult to work with. Never answering my calls, never following up on anything he was supposed to follow up on, disappearing at important times. That should seem like a great, big SIGNBOARD in my face, right? STAY AWAY. ESCAPIST AHEAD. But err, no, no. Myopic remember? 

I hung out with him, dated him, and laughed a lot. A LOT. Until one night, he decided to get wasted, and confess to me that he was in love with me. The words came out of HIS mouth. And yet I found that it was only barely ironic-funny when he immediately put on his running shoes (metaphorically obviously), and sprinted out of my life.

FunnyGuy #2: Eerrrmmmaaagawd, so damned witty. He was Chandler-meets-Jeeves-meets...well, I don't know who. But man, he was funny. He took my breath away. He also knocked the air out of me when after three years of fabulously entertaining laughs, he ran for the hills for no real reason. 

Literally. Ha ha.

Guess that sounds funny. But isn't.

FunnyGuy #3: This one is my fault entirely, but in my defense, it was kind of trial-basis- like an outfit I was trying on. He was so slapstick, and I don't even like slapstick, but others did, so I thought I'd swing it. Try it on, y'know? He was just so funny with his 24/7 whiny, disgruntled jokes. But three weeks into it, his whining-funny suddenly seemed to take on dementor-like qualities. He sucked the sunshine out of the world. As if, god forbid, something nice should happen to him- his world would end, wouldn't it? I was out of there as soon as I could find an exit sign. 

Truth is, I still haven't gotten over my Love-Funny-Guys myopia, and I will admit I'm still looking for that perfectly funny-but-mature guy combination. But hopefully in the meanwhile, I can find myself some thick glasses to repair my vision. A knock on the head will also help.

Ten things I’m terrified of in my 20s.

There are so many lists out there talking about the fabulous 20s, the puzzling 20s, and what have you. So I figured what’s one more. But this one’s about things that terrify me in my 20s about my future life.

1. I’m terrified that I’m losing out on time. Like the 20s are supposed to the best years- the ‘golden period’ if you must- where I’m paving, paving, paving the path for my soon to be illustrious future. And if don’t pave fast enough, I’ll never make that road, and then suddenly I’m 30 and then what will I walk on, omigod, I’ll be totally lost, and Omfg, omfg.

2. I’m terrified I’ll never live that travel dream I’ve dreamt of. People say travel young, travel young. And I’m terrified I’m making and saving all this money in my 20s only (not making that much money, actually) to forget the travel dream I had for later. I’m scared I’ll get caught up with other things like marriage, making money, and career paths.

3. Which brings me to... my career. I’m terrified I’ll never have the balls to do what I really want to do. I’m scared I’ll keep using the 20s to dream, dream, dream, stalling till the 30s, to do the ‘real thing I want to do’, and all that will end up being a sham because ‘logic’ ‘logistics’ or ‘reality’ will set in.

4. I’m scared that as I leave my 20s, I’ll become the person I always scoffed at- the person that always knows everything. That super closed minded person that probably thinks I’m a hippie, but he really, was the loser that lacked imagination. I’m terrified I’ll grow older to become that fool.

5. I’m terrified that post my 20s, I’ll want more, but in the most limited way possible. That my lists will grow longer, but only because they’re growing tighter. ‘I want my man to be a funny, non-smoking, open minded, non chauvinistic, scuba diving banker from an exotic country, who is generous and spoils me rotten, but also respects my independence...’ Or whatever, you know?

6. I’ve already noticed a lack of risk taking between now and when I was 17, so what’s to say I won’t become a paranoid person post my 20s, who’s like, ‘oh I don’t want to cycle through this gorgeous park because you know, I might fall and scrape my knee and it’ll be hurt for a whole week and the scab will be so ugly..’. You get the drift.

7. While I’m aware of the fact that I’m getting older, I’m acutely aware of the fact that my parents are getting older too. It almost seems like the minute I turn thirty, I’ll have to start giving serious thought to how to take care of them and make sure they’re okay. The thing about this is that, I’m not sure I’m ready to ‘take care’ of anyone, much less my beautiful parents, who I’ve constantly relied on for guidance and support. The thought of that role reversing is scary, more so because I’m terrified I might not not be as good at taking care of them as they have done for me.

8. I’m terrified I’ll always be selfish. So, this one is a little different- I’m terrified of something I am right now, that I really want to shed, and I think I may not be able to.

9. On the whole, I’m terrified of my entire identity changing when I’m not paying attention. I know it’s silly (which part of this paranoid list, isn’t?). Some people say we all evolve every 7 years; that if you look back seven years earlier, you’ll realise you were completely different. Still, I’m terrified of my identity changing and not having control over it.

10. Most of all, I’m terrified that the 20s might wear me down. That the disappointment I might face in this decade might make me cynical. Worse, it might cause me to settle, settle for less. And become that person that only lives from car loans to house loans, paying EMIs on everything I own and touch. Living a perfectly staid life, one that no one will remember. Not even me, when I look back at it. One in which I wouldn’t have realised my potential. One in which I’m just sheep.

The thing is though, I’m glad I’m terrified of all these things. Because that means I’ll try my damned hardest to focus on what I’ve dreamt for myself and avoid settling for anything else. I might change my mind, and I might change some of my priorities. But if I manage to retain my love for life and never settle for anything less than what I dreamed of as a child, a time when my dreams where the least diluted, then I think I’m sorted.

Relationship Power Play

Remember that song Quit Playing Games With My Heart? Yes, the Back Street boys one- don't pretend to not know it- you know you know it. In fact, like the rest of us teens who grew up in the 90s, you probably know every lyric and every ummm baby, nanannaa... oh yeaaah! Besides how could you ever forget that cute-as-hell Nick Carter (I don't know how I thought that- now I feel like taking a scissor to his hair and asking him to grow a pair)?

Yeah, so the first time I heard that song it meant something completely different than it means now, more than a decade later. Then (I was probably 13/14), it was just a song with someone else's heartbreak and the song and it's tune, and the band of boys were cooler than the lyrics. A few years later, with a real heartbreak up my sleeve, it meant relating to it a little more (although it was still too a peppy pop song to really feel it, and a ballad-like one like the whiny Alllll By Myseeeeeeeeeelfffff was more effective with the water works more than a BB song).

Anyway, coming to the Now- that song, or at least that line means a whole different thing- it's feels like they should sing Quit Playing Games with my Mind. 

It's all about Power Play these days, isn't it? I don't know if it's just me (and my fabulous and infamous bad luck with men), or if it's the age (late 20s and you're more jaded), or if it's the place I live in (Bombay with it's really screwed up artists and actors and what not), or if it's a combination of all three. But the thing is, these days I seem to be running into people who just want to get into a relationship to make themselves feel like they're in control.

Which, by the way, is such a retarded concept. If you're not in control of yourself and your life from the start, then how the hell do you expect to be in control when you've added another whole human being to the mix? In this kind of relationship, one of two kind of mind games happen (or god forbid, both- in which case you must really have it bad)- 

a) the guy is completely into you, and he is fully and absolutely involved and invested in your life (which you love- who doesn't love the attention?), and then suddenly, BAM! the guy expects to mind control you. He will tell you what to do and what you can't/ shouldn't do and then next thing you know (slowly but surely), he thinks he owns you and your mind, and it leaves you wondering if it's he's completely lost the plot and/or if this is his way of validating his painful existence. 

b) the guy is into you- sometimes SO much and sometimes it's all meh, not so much. Aloof be-th his middle name-th, and he's cat-and-mousing you all over the place. This kind of guy will give a little, take a lot more, and then disappear for a bit. Sometimes he'll give a lot and before it even fully reached your hand, he'll snatch it right back. He'll be more inconsistent and undependable than the weather in New York. He'll have you guessing alllll the time, and this way he'll be on your mind all the time. The idea is that he has all the power. He'll be nice when wants to, and highly ambiguous when he wants to. Mind you, he'll very rarely be mean directly, so you can't point any fingers at him, but he'll make sure he's playing those games with your brain all the time, because you see like the other guy above, he too needs to do this to feel powerful, in control and good about himself. 

Why is power such an important part of a relationship? Don't get me wrong- the above two examples of men, they could just as easily be women (although I've honestly heard of rarer cases with women)- greed for power and being in control is gender neutral. But I realllly wonder- why is the world so hungry for power- whether it's politics, at work or in bed? Doesn't real power come from within yourself? Do you have to make someone else feel small in order to feel like the more powerful one? 

All I can do is roll my eyes, and stay as far away from these power plays as possible.

Black and white.

How do you separate the small from the big?
How do you ask for something that is not yours?
How do you scream when your voice is borrowed?
How do you stop losing against yourself?

Where is the sane whisper?
The sound that cuts through the silence
And burns the cob webs?

That sounds like your mothers voice
So gentle so deafening,
So quick and free.

That abracadabra to your problem,
The free in your spirit
The moo in your cow.

Dreams get spun by talking to yourself
Under the shadow of a tree
That's green and amber.

Where are my dreams?
Where is the tree?
Where is the shadow that I need?

I could cry and cry,
Till my throat is sore,
And my eyes are red
Like the sun that's screaming for release.

Because black is black,
And white is white,
And the grey is just a color

Made up by the mind,
To take you all the way
Into a fog

That is so thick and
Deep and colorless as water
Till it's all just a never ending ramble.

Find me my voice or my shadow
And my black
Or my white.

How well do you know yourself?

Isn't it strange that the person you see the least in your lifetime is you? Literally and otherwise. 

Sure, you see pictures of yourself all the time- and if you're a narcissistic person, you end up seeing it more often than most- but that doesn't quite tell you anything right? I mean, the complex facial poetry, the tiny changes in body language... you know what it feels like from the inside, when you're saying something or portraying a certain feeling, but you haven't seen those expressions ON yourself. For example, when my mother is just about to scream at me, I know exactly what is coming my way just by looking at her face. For years and years, I've watched her facial muscles change in a million small ways- pain, happiness, discomfort, a grin, a squint, a confused look etc. In fact, I know her so well, I can tell her sub-emotions too- like a mixture of disappointment and relief, or a combo of excited, proud and slightly anxious. With people who you know so well, they don't even have to say anything most of the time, you just know it from all that internalisation.

When I meet new people, I look forward to getting to know them better. I'm excited about learning the little expressions that become familiar to me- their adoration, admiration, confusion, alarm, boredom, restlessness  and the like. Sometimes I like predicting it and finding out if I'm right- like for example, I know when a friend is going to throw a slight pout right after she says something funny, or how my sister will pucker her eyes just before saying cheese to a picture.

I pride myself on being intutive with people and reading them right (I try!), so it brings me a ting! of happy when I discover I'm right. With the people I care about, I feel especially proud- like these people are mine, ya know? And those little things about those people become a part of me forever. In fact, when I have fall-outs (romantic relationships and otherwise), this is the part that is hardest to let go, the part that becomes the hardest to leave behind. Such is the intensity with which we (or maybe it's just me?) observe and absorb people's expressions and portrayal of themselves.

Which brings me to the point I was making earlier- it's strange that the expressions we throw out are the ones we're least familiar with. We can feel it from the inside, but our best imagination will still fall short of how it actually looks. By the time we've conjured up a look- some image of what it must look like- it's gone, changed, or mixed with another expression. If we had to step out of our body and our mind and just observe ourselves, would we be able to guess what an expression meant- a little scrunching of the nose, or the bite of a lower lip, eyes lowered or palms twisting? 

It alarms me to think of the answer- perhaps I won't recognise what I'm thinking or how I'm about to react. How little we know of ourselves in a lifetime, if we don't even know this. This is coming from the fact that we're supposed to know ourselves best- better than anyone else. 

And yet, we know so very little. 

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 ).

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 :)

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. 

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 :)

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?

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?

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.

Things I wish I could tell my ten year old self.

-Don't wish you were older. Responsibility is big deal, not necessarily a happy deal.

-Do everything you can. Go to singing classes, karate, diving, fencing, dancing....anything in the world you can find. You'll only be this brave and uninhibited when you're ten, at twenty it'll halve and and at thirty it'll seem silly. Oh, and you won't have time for it.

-Homework is not the worst thing that can happen to you. There are bigger and worse things you'll need to face, and no, I'm not talking about a zit.

-Enjoy your time with your parents. Your parents are young when you're ten. Play with them, ask them a million questions and exhaust them! They'll only get older as you get older and their time with you will keep getting more and more limited.

-Don't be in a rush to fall in love. Spend as much time with yourself as you can. There is a time for loving another person and when that time comes, you'll find there is lesser time and love you can give to yourself. 

-There is a different freedom at every age- make sure you enjoy it.

-Wisdom comes at a price, enjoy your innocence. 

-Whatever you do, as you get older, keep fighting cynical people. Happiness is yours to claim. 

-Don't ever stop imagining or being curious.

-TV is evil. Go out and play hop scotch. 

-Eat as much as you can, your metabolism will suck when you're older!

Oh and quick PS to my 35 year old self:

Don't wish you were 25 again. At 25 you wanted to be 15 and at 15 you wanted to be 25. Shut up and enjoy yourself.

Light and Love

I've recently gone through the very difficult/hurtful process of losing a friend and it's got me thinking about how fragile relationships really are. And how foolish we are sometimes in thinking...no, really believing, that they're indestructible. Because the truth is, nothing is indestructible and nothing is inevitable. 

We're all human. We're all very very different...and ironic as it is, we spend all our lives looking for people who are like us; people we can get along with- with the same values, beliefs, etc. Like Anne of Green Gables says, we're all looking for a 'kindred spirit'. 

And when the 'kindred spirit' comes along, we're excited, because in such a big world with its crazies, its funnies, its weirdos and all the strangeness, its amazing that when we can find someone that we can get along with like a house on fire. We're surprised and then grateful for being able to find such a great friend. With time the friendships blossoms in a way that keeps you looking forward to all the new things that it brings with it. It brings almost the same/similar feeling of anticipation that you get when you meet someone you want to have a romantic relationship with-- excitement wise I mean; the excitement, the comfort, the discovery of a whole new person is nothing short of exhilarating.

The thing with friendships (one assumes) is that in many ways it's less fragile and less prone to end in 'break ups' than a romantic relationship is. It's a no strings attached relationship in some ways- You can have other really close/best friends. You don't have to have sex to keep the relationship alive. You can talk about the same things for hours and still not be bored. Hell, you can be having a drink and sitting with each other and not say a word and you're still not bored.  You can have boyfriends/girlfriends- and many come and go, but you stay; your friendships pull you through bad relationships. Your friendships reinforce the hope that there are still good relationships out there. 

But what happens when that friendship ends? When it hurts, when it feels unbelievable and silly and stupid and you just feel betrayed, all at the same time? When sometimes it feels worse than breaks ups with your boyfriend/girlfriend?  The thing with friendships that we sometimes tend to forget is that in many ways it's as fragile as a romantic relationship. It is a relationship with a human being after all- there will be misunderstandings, there will be differences and yes, there is room for break ups/ fallouts.  

I think the best you can do is let go and take the time and memories you've had with your friend and smile at them. Smile at the many ways in which the person changed you and put some of his/her wonderful colour in you. Smile at the fact that you got the chance to see a whole new world- that person's world; even if it was a limited offering (although you might have not known it). Like Julia Roberts/ Elizabeth Gilbert says in Eat Pray Love, 'Miss them when you have to and then send some light and love their way' :)

Because when you invest in a person, you can only gain and add on unknown, beautiful layers to your life. Sure it hurts like hell when its over or lost, but really, isn't it worth it when you had the time of your life?

If not, I'd advice you to just give up and invest in a pet. If you love it and feed it unconditionally it won't leave your side :P

A new year and new butterflies in my tummy.

It's New Years' Eve and like every year, while everyone is celebrating, I find myself feeling uneasy and not as celebratory. First, it's the end of the festive season and this is depressing (the festive season is the only semblance of a summer-holiday type carefree time for us working class people; because no one wants to work and everyone is out on vacation). Second, and more importantly (read 'more scary') it's the beginning of a new chance, with a supposedly clean slate. 

'Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right'-- Oprah (also borrowed from a friend's BLOG)

This makes me kind of anxious, because it means I have to make the effort to try to believe that everything could be new and nice for the following 365 days. 


The reality is, you'll still be broke if you're broke. Your grandpa will still be ill if he was ill. The government will still fuck you over--they always do. And all those other factors you can't change will still be the same-- whooping your arse every time you look away for even a second... I mean it is technically just one day after the last 365 days right? Not like you have a special date with a Genie on New Years' Eve who will grant you three of your most heartfelt desires/wishes.

What you can do is take control of your life and do things with a lot more determination and hardwork this year. This 'New Year' and 'new chances' thing, it's really just a made-up 'new slate'-- it's a switch in your mind that you can choose to turn on or off. It's still going to be you renegotiating the TNCs (Terms and Conditions) of your life with yourself and renewing your self-motivation deal with yourself. Nothing exciting about that. I could do that bang in the middle of the year in June or July instead of making mass resolutions with the rest of the world on 31st of December.

And renegotiating a new self-motivation deal with myself makes me nervous. I can be a pretty hard bargainer. Hence the butterflies in my tummy.

All that said, I've still gone ahead and made some resolutions:

-Travel once a month or once in 45 days at least, even if it's a weekend getaway. (If I'm lucky maybe a trip to Australia in Aug)

-Lose a LOT of weight (the precise amount is not to be revealed!) and be Fit.

-Pick up at least two more hobbies (preferred options: Sewing and Photography)

-Brush up on French and finish learning Spanish (even if that means making random Spanish and French friends and forcing them to talk to me!)

-Save money and stop being in an eternal state of BBB- Broke Beyond Broke (even if that means making major life decisions)

-Write write write. And write some more.

Ok, that's all. Let's hope I can get these done. I'll make other smaller mental notes as we get on with the year.

Please 2011, if you can, please bless me and my life and give me what it takes to shine :) Thanks in advance!

That Big Step

I've suddenly found myself at that age where everywhere I look, someone is smiling at me, giving me a beautifully embossed card and saying, 'it'll be great if you can make it'. Yes, apparently almost everyone (of eligible age) that I know is getting married. Or aspiring to get hitched in the next few months. 

And 2010 is apparently The Year to take That Big Step. 

No seriously, I'm hounding my mother for saris and jewellery for weddings that are SO back to back that it's impossible to repeat clothes and not get noticed for it (and the facebook shared photos don't help!).

This is what I've been upto in the last three weeks.

-Getting salwaars and blouses stitched (gratefully my mother has an adequate inventory of beautiful saris) 

-Getting the blouses re-stitched because apparently my tailor sucks at his job

-Organising or being part of a great big bunch of loud girls at a bachelorette party (where I must mention, there were vuglar props and games, and we almost got kicked out of a club and got threatened to get arrested!)

-Doing a dance for mash-ups of Sheela Ki Jawaani and other Bolly songs that are driving people insane right now

-Drinking drinking drinking DRINKING. And then some more.

-Crying a little bit every time during each of the ceremonies (true story; why I'm so emo don't ask)

On that last note, I must tell you that this was a discovery for me about me- getting over-sentimental and crying happy tears at every wedding. This, from a girl, who till just a few years ago, staunchly believed that marriage is shit and that no ONE in their right minds should do it. I even had a very good, long, scripted debate prepared for every time someone asked me my opinion on the matter.

I still remember, just a couple of years ago, when I was living in the Other City, my mother called and mentioned it to me for the first time. 

'Baby, we should start collectiong saris for your wedding no?'

I had just entered my 20s and I was caught dumbfounded for a minute or ten.

'Are you mad ma?'

'No my darling. If we start collecting saris and jewellery and start saving up now, we can have a half decent wedding for you'

'Ma, you do know there has to be a member of the opposite sex who is willing to do this, right? I'm not seeing anyone right now.'

This is when she decided it was right moment to tell me about 'a very lovely boy' who someone had recommended.

Let me back track for a minute and tell you about my relationship with my parents. Very early in my teen years, I learned the trick to handling them/ training them.

Step 1: TELL them when you're doing something, don't ASK. Eg. I'm going for a drink with friends 

Step 2: Don't fuck up. Eg: Don't end up getting caught and spend the night in jail for drinking and driving

Step 3: Now that their trust and confidence in you has built up reasonably, repeat Step 1 and 2, but this time take it one level higher. Eg: Tell them you're moving in with your boyfriend. 

This way you have trained your parents to know that you are the master of your life and you are capable of living a decent life without their intervention. Slowly but surely, they will learn to let you go and let you fly.

Anyway, so as you can see, I have a great thing with my parents- I tell them what I want to do with my life, I do it right and they believe I'm not a fuck-up. When they disagree with me, they offer me advice, but if I convince them with logical reasons, they're okay with it (and it works both ways mind you- I let them convince me out of something if I'm sure it's not the right thing for me).

So you can understand my surprise when I heard my mother suggesting an arranged marriage meeting. I was wondering if I'd not been following the Train your Parents to Love Your Decisions rule book. Because you see, my folks know how I despise the thought of marriage, let alone a holy union arranged by the elders of the family. 

Despite my obvious bewilderment, she proceeded to tell me all about him. And believe it or not, the only thing I found interesting was the boy in question's MOTHER. Apparently she had been India's ambassador to several countries. My chaalu brain quickly started devising a quick strategy for befriending the wow mother (she sounded impressive, maybe she can help me with a cool job that allows me to travel too?), without ever meeting or talking to the son.

No brilliant plan came to mind, so I promptly asked my lovely mother to keep the lovely boy away from me. It was too early in my life to start having this argument. I didn't intend to ever get married. That's all.

....And then a few years later, I met Him (I refer to him on this blog as LOL- Love Of my Life).

And a month after I met him, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I had never thought about when I die or how I aged until I met LOL. All of a sudden I found myself hoping I lived a long life because if this is how gorgeous life got when he was in it, I never wanted it to end.

Slowly I started thinking about what it might be like to publicly declare this aforementioned feeling. Because you see, I wanted to shout it from the mountains. I was in mad, mad in love. And it dawned on me that that was what a wedding was for.

And that's how my dear friends, I have come to become this girl that gets sentimental and cries at my friends' weddings. Apparently I've now warmed up to the concept. Hell, I even look forward to my own shaadi- the dress, the rings, the band-baaja, et al. :)

PS: Will you please please pray that I'll be allowed to have a beach wedding?