The Perils of too much (choice)

“I just can’t seem to find the right man for me”, moaned my sister. This was one of her finding ‘Mr. Right’ phases and she was hell-bent on finding a good husband by the year end.

“I liked V but he turned out to be psychotic, D is extremely sweet but a total loser, A makes my hormones go haywire but can’t seem to decide even one single thing and I feel no fizz when I kiss D.  He practically acts like a monk. Why does it have to happen to just me”, she continued, glumly looking into her cup of coffee, maybe for an answer.

“D is not a soda to give you fizz and for all you know D's err... quipment is faulty”. I smirked at my own PJ. I didn’t want to burst her bubble that Mr. Right doesn’t exist. It has always been Mr. Right at that moment of time. “Why don’t you try dating all four of them together?”

“Very funny! You never give me sound advice. I always feel as if I am the elder sister! Maybe I will just go abroad and get a guy there! How come you never have men problems in your life?”

“They are not so important. I am just having a good time with them,” I replied faking a nonchalance. 

“What! Really?” She almost spilled her coffee. “Wait till I tell Ma and Y. I never knew you thought like that!”

Are all younger sisters such pests?

P.S. For all those who wondered if I was gone for good... well I guess life is (ahem!) interesting enough to write about again!

Worries on turning 30!

- What if my sex drive dives? (I really like having sex)

- Is it the water, my hormones, stress or just growing 30 that is making my hair fall? (it is next in my most worried about list, beaten only by a fear of all my teeth falling out)

- All my relatives will pester me for my biological clock and how it is ticking and how should I squeeze out a couple of brats (no, thank you) before my uterus shuts down. I have enough worries juggling X, Y, job, boss to worry about having issues with my fertility

- Wrinkles

- Parents (they ARE growing old)

- Should I buy a car? (I know it is random but till now I have been like champion of using public transport due to some twisted eco reason I have)

- Is eating all that Chinese good for my skin? (as you grow older you have to seriously ponder over these questions)

- How to unsleep myself from the bed every morning for that forever pending jog?

- Will X love me? (I don’t think he does, but since we are talking worries, WTH)

- Will Y love me?

- Will I love anyone of these back?



It’s a long list and I just have 3 months to figure out the answers…fuuuuuuuu#%!

Conflict

We were talking about conflicts. He and I. We started with discussing the political kinds and moved across religion, love, marriage, society and finally settled on internal kind. I was lying diagonally on mattress beside the bed and he was lying on his stomach, on the bed, looking at me. I was meeting him after nine years. A lot has changed since we last met…

“What are you thinking right now?” he asked

“Hmmm… how do you handle if you body, mind and mind are in conflict?” I replied.

“Mind and Mind?”

“Yes, some people may say heart and mind, but I prefer mind and mind cause that is what is happening right?”

“I don’t understand… explain.” He said adjusting the pillow under his chin.

“Let me try. Now that X and I are no longer together and it has been some days. One part of my mind congratulates me on handling it so well, keeping it neutral, some resemblance of moving on, but other part still stays there. It is like there is a conflict going in me. The ache stays. My life is divided yet running parallel. What I don’t understand is why the mind easily tricks you to coexist with two sides. The dull ache stays with the world fading in and out. He has become like the aroma I get every evening as I stand in my balcony from my neighbour’s kitchen. It wafts through, even when I desperately don’t want it to, envelops me and makes me crave for food. I can’t see it but it tempts me, even irritates me on my inability to stop, not to smell, not to feel hungry. It scares me. What if this will never become better? The heartache will creep up on me and rot me… like a wall with termites. Slowly but steadily.”

He turned on his back and stayed silent. I could see his cigarette smoke going up and disappearing but at the same time suffocating me with the pungent smell.

“And…?”


“And the next moment I feel as if I am really moving on, life feels more cheerful, I hum to myself, smile at strangers and feel tres passionnée towards Y and feel at peace with myself for doing the right thing. If it’s so right, then why does it hurt so much?”

“You have really started thinking too much. I never knew you were so profound,” he replied keeping a poker face.

Unsure of taking it as an offense, jibe or compliment, I asked with a smile,” If I am boring you so much, why didn’t you say so?”

He removed the pillow from under the chin and spoke staring at me,” You know Coco Chanel said – ‘Jump out the window if you are the object of passion. Flee it if you feel it. Passion goes, boredom remains.’ But to answer your question, no, you are not boring me and you have not become a bore. Yet.”

I turned on my stomach and replied staring back at him,” Then I am sure you must also know what Confucius said?”

“What?”

I smiled at him. Again

“He says ‘Virtuous people often revenge themselves for the constraints to which they submit by the boredom which they inspire.’”

He threw the pillow back at me.

Randomly...

Y, sensing my low mood, has given me a surprise shopping spree. Yippee! Shopping time today with S. I love him for being to nice to me sometimes… nothing works like retail therapy to cure your blues :)

Have been reading this book called ‘Chai Chai’ by Bishwanath Ghosh… it makes me feel pretty nostalgic about home. He has captured the simple and somewhat peculiar lifestyle of small towns beyond the railway junctions- their only claim to recognition. The description of hot moong dal pakodas and garam chai actually made me remember the feel of eating them piping hot near Bhopal Lake on rainy evenings and made my mouth water…

I am joining belly dancing classes… I may not know dancing but I sure have a belly!

I never thought buying a gift for a man is so difficult! Going berserk searching for a meaningful gift for Y. He deserves one, simply for putting up with me last weekend. Now that I have regained my sanity back, I feel like giving him a big hug (of course it will shock the daylights out of him). Books, clothes, CDs, shoes, accessories are ruled out! Any ideas?

Checked my account today, barring Y’s credit card that I can use today for shopping, it is actually negligible. Still 6 days to go…Eeeeee!

Two Heartbreaks and a Wedding

It was a long weekend. Like a scene from Richard Curtis’s ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’, I witnessed ‘Two Breakups and a Wedding’ within 48 hours. Right now, on a Monday morning, I am sitting in front of my comp, with a steaming cup of tea and wondering if a thing seems as light or serious as we think it to be. On Friday, it really felt like I was dying. Right now, it feels a bit different.


- 3 days back/ Friday night/ 8pm-

“Hello… (sniff, sniff)”

“Hello? What happened? Why does it sound like you have been crying?”

“D, it’s finally happened… X and I are no longer together… I think it maybe final this time” I replied trying to make coherent sounds through my tears. It happened over the weekend. As they say in politically correct language- we mutually decided it wasn’t really working for us. Correction. It was working so well for us that our conscience started to rebel. We decided to block each other on G chat, delete each other’s numbers, etc…

“But sweetie, you guys were not together since last 2-3 weeks, what happened?”

“Yes, we met again and made up, only to break up 15 minutes later. I am hurting like my heart is in a shredder!” I bawled, wiping my raccoon look (thanks to the flowing eye make-up) in the taxi.

I saw the driver giving me a ‘Sorry lady, but the conversation is too interesting not to be overheard’ look. I clear my throat and said to D now is the time when I really, really need the vodka swimming pool to drown in…

- 3 days back/ Friday night/ 11pm-

It fell like my mind was ringing. My whole body felt so light, but my heart felt heavy and numb even in my drunken state. D put on some peppy numbers and I gave her a glare through my red eyes and runny nose. I hated all peppy numbers right now. The ringing was even more prominent right now… I realized it was actually my cell phone ringing.

“Allo” I could feel my tongue revolting even at the thought of forming a sentence.

“Hi, this is P, I need an urgent help”

“Aal I can do is geeve you a foffle right nof sweethearf”

“Are you drunk? My god! I didn’t know you drank so much! You are slurring”

(In retrospect, I think if P would have known before that I have had my experiences with alcohol, he would have had invited me to his ‘daaru’ (booze) parties long back)

“Anyways I don’t have much time Tuna fish… who is with you right now?”

I handed the phone to D and roll over on the sofa cum bed…

- 2 days back/ Saturday morning/ 9 am
I felt like there was a tunnel being drilled in my mind… something was ringing and which each ring, the intensity of the drilling only increased. I tried opening my eyes, but it felt like someone has stuck them with fevi-glue…

It was fourth time I finally located my cell phone and was about to throw it off with its continuous ringing that P’s name flashed on the screen. I remembered vaguely talking to him the last and picked the phone.

“Hello”, I croaked. (I realized to my horror that instead of speech the only thing coming out was a series of croaks!)

“Wow, you sound nice”

“Well, you sound cheerful”, I replied in an accusatory tone.

“When are you reaching the mandir? It is already 9:30am and you have to be there before 10:30 am, common get up and hurry!”

“Mandir? What mandir? Where do I have to come?”

My each sentence was hurting my jaw and scraping my throat.

“Tunafish! You forgot! Didn’t D tell you? I am getting married today! S ran away from home and came to my house last night. She was crying, saying her parents will never agree, so the only way left is to get married as soon as possible today before it snowballs”, he screeched (atleast that’s how it sounded to me – screech- in my worst possible hangover ever).

I wondered how could gods be so unfair? Here I am crying my eyes out over X and NO ONE is coming to my rescue!

“Hello? Hello? Are you there?”

“Yeah P, I am here. Tell me what I have to do and where I have to be?” I sighed resigning to my fate of playing the happy guest even when all I wanted to do was watch sad soppy movies and cry over my cornflakes.

“Love you Tunes, here take down the list of things u have to get to the mandir…”

- 2 days back/ Saturday evening/ 4pm

The ringing of the cell phone just irritated me further. My hangover was still, well… hanging over me like a dark cloud, I was hungry, irritated (had to smile deliberately at the wedding when all I wanted to do was sulk and wallow in my inky blue depression) and was really aching for a hug from X. The ringing of the cell phone didn’t exactly reduce my troubled state.

“Hello”, I snapped.

“T… I just have had a breakup. Can you come and meet me? Please?”

That was H, my cousin and perhaps the only one who knew about her on/off boyfriend.

“Oh! I thought he has come to Mumbai for 2 days specially to meet you? What happened?”

“He just stormed out of the house, bags and all, after a big fight. I don’t ever want to see his face again!” she replied between her sobs.

I sent a mute complaint to god – Why me? Why today?

“Baby, but what happened?”

“Shopping”

“Eh?” I guess I will never be able to excel at man-woman stuff; I even had proof of it now.

“Yeah, he wanted to spend all two days shopping and when I said you go alone, he sulked and we had a big fight and he walked out!”

This was all I could understand between her fresh rounds of weeping. I promised I will reach there in half hour…
- 1 day back / Yesterday afternoon/ 2pm

I think I was past giving any attention to my cell phone anymore. My eyes were on fire from crying and my throat felt like someone had taken sandpaper and rubbed it with a vengeance to rectify all my sins. It felt like my heart had become a gaping black hole and sucked all my energy, emotions, love and feelings. I felt numb inside and outside and still ached. The sudden unfolding of events had swinged my state like a pendulum and I just wished I could disappear listening to Bryan Adam’s ‘Cuts like a Knife’ that was playing on the stereo. Well at last I admitted it to myself. I so wanted X…

- Today/ right now/ 4pm

I logged on to my email and chat account. I was surprised to see he had not blocked me yet. I couldn’t bring myself to block him out myself, and so I just sat and thought… random thoughts about him, him and me. It’s funny how things become clear when u sit calmly and think (yeah yeah, no rocket science this, but hard to follow). X will always be in my life, whether I accept it or not, he accepts it or not, is irrelevant. Even if don’t meet each other ever, that just becomes geography. The thoughts may never go. I spoke to him then, requesting him to stay friends and not with a pained heart but a genuine fondness. I don’t know what life will bring for us; maybe we will get together again, maybe not. Why lose such a good thing? We started as friends; we come back again to being friends. For now, the circle is complete.

Laterally Confused

“Please don’t laugh when I ask you a question… I am genuinely confused!” I said to Y over the phone.

“What is it?”

“You promise, you won’t laugh?” I said, trying to take a long breath to relax…

“Yes I promise”

Could already feel him smiling at the other end…

“Err… If I am standing facing the clock in my room, which side is my left?”

“Huh?”

“I said if I am standing facing the clock in my room, which side is my left?” I said shifting my phone to the other side and feeling more and more embarrassed by the minute…

“You don’t know?”

I could feel his grin now.

“Of course I know! It’s just that suddenly, while putting on my contacts, I have forgotten which is left and which is right. You know I know.”

“Ok… (I could hear him desperately trying to stifle a laugh) the side on your window is right… you want to know which side is your left now?”

“Very funny! Thanks and bye!”

This conversation that happened today morning has been upgraded easily to one of the most embarrassing moments of my life… Am I losing my memory? Gosh!

Dumpsville 2.0

Sitting on the stairs, accidentally locked out of my own flat, one can think a lot of useful and not-so-useful thinking (well, until my neighbour – who has been given a spare key for such occasion- returned, I couldn’t think of anything to do). I thought about last 4 months… they went in such such a whirr… it feels unreal. Moving back to Mumbai, searching a new house, not being able to write (yes, I am sorry and yes now I have discovered there IS such a thing called writer’s block) and falling out with X (or so it seems).


It’s strange how our mind works sometimes. I had imagined it more than a hundred times – eating, bathing, doing yoga, listening to music even sitting on potty, how X and I would fall out if things come to that. My mind made endless permutations and combinations of all the words, expressions, situations and perhaps tears that would come into play. I was surprised.

Not sad, not ‘I want to sit in some dark room and weep my eyes over sad movies and into my cornflakes (I prefer cornflakes over popcorn)’ depressed, not suicidal (gosh never! - not for a man Darling), just surprised. One day we just stopped talking, I tried to figure out what’s wrong once, then accepted the fact and just left it to be. I wouldn’t be honest if I said it didn’t hurt. It does, a lot, but as I explained it Dumpsville, it is most probably my ego and pride that has taken a beating.

On the positive side (yes, there is one, I am a firm believer of the silver lining theory) it gives me plenty of time to do yoga (that is what I am into nowadays), try new foods, movies, books even people. I spend hours lying with D discussing everything under the sun, listening to Duran Duran’s ‘come undone’ and always concluding that it will take a little time, might a little crying to come undone…

I don’t even know if it’s a fall out or there is a Dumpsville.3 lurking around somewhere, but then in this world even heart break comes with a price tag…

Please don't disturb (and don't be?)

I would want him to wake me up with a kiss and hug me and look into my eyes. I would want to start the day with he making love to me and whispering in my ear ‘I love you’. But this is what I want, and as ‘wants’ go, this is usually not I have.

 

In reality I was sitting across him eating my breakfast at Mondegar having a discussion on being ‘disturbed’. (The reality before that was, well yes, he did make love to me and then told me later I am stinking (well what more do you expect living in Mumbai in a muggy weather and first thing in the morning… smelling of strawberries?). It did make me sprint and take a shower though, and we came down to eat breakfast at Mondys as people of Mumbai call it.

 

He claimed that for being a good writer you have to be disturbed. If you see all good ones, most of them were/are disturbed. He further claimed that he was pretty disturbed too. I simply shrugged as I think some of it is simply fear of facing the facts that stare at him on his face. We fell silent after that, he sipping his coffee, I enjoying the warmth of my tea cup in my palms…

 

Does being disturbed make him a good writer? I guess, after all he does write well, but I wondered whether the corollary is also true? I don’t think so. Besides how disturbed is disturbed?

 

This was two weeks back. Now lying on my bed during a power cut (this is slowly becoming a regular feature- nothing better to do in this heat) and staring at my glow stars I have stuck on my ceiling, I realized that ‘disturbed’ may make for good writers but bad lovers. May be because being ‘disturbed’ sometimes means drowning in your spiral of depression and self pity. When two people entangle (I won’t use ‘fall’ as maybe between us it was/is never intentional) in relationship, how does the gray area of understanding work? And if everything has to be ‘understood’, then why do people talk, write and think about affection, the great stress on spending time together, the golden rule of communication- being in touch? As D says the foundation or the love or hate in any relationship is just like a prime piece of land in the middle of the city. What it finally turns to – a mall, high-rise or slums, is in the hand of the land owner.

 

I also wondered whether this is really the end and are we drifting apart? When one feels something for the first time, the impact is much more. And if not, why does the heart ache so much? (And it really doesn’t do one bit for my ego).

 

It’s almost funny that the man I started calling jokingly X, is slowly drifting away from me -  maybe becoming an ‘ex’

 

Smoke

“I like the way the smoke rings rise and expand, and finally disappears into a blue spiral. I think I can go on watching them forever” I said to Y. He was smoking and blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling.

It was dark – power cut- and we were lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. It was too hot and humid to do anything else. I could see the cigarette smoke as a blue haze hanging below the ceiling. It suffocated me a little but I didn’t want to him to go.

“How do you make them?” I prodded him again on receiving no reply to my earlier statement.

“It’s not difficult. Takes a little practice, that’s all. I learnt how to do it when I was twenty years old”

“I want to learn too. Give me a cigarette; I want to see if I can make some too”

“You smoke? I didn’t know that. You never told me.” He said, his voice skirting on accusation. Not because he thought I have started smoking, but perhaps because I didn’t tell him.

“No I don’t smoke. But I want to try”

“Hmmm. Don’t”

I could hear a mosquito buzzing nearby. I hate the Kolkata heat in summers. It zaps the energy out of you and the mosquitoes make it worse. Even though I am the one of the few lucky ones to have an AC, but a power cut makes you realize the futility of owning sophisticated appliances that need the electricity to feed them.

I turned to look at him, my eyes adjusting to the darkness to make out his profile. I resisted the temptation to trace the outline of his face with my finger. Y is handsome, what they call, ‘conventional handsome’. Straight nose, fair skin, big eyes, strong jaw, the works.

“How did you know we will be together?” I whispered, in the darkness, afraid to break the rare current of cozy company I was feeling.

“I knew. I always thought so even when we were not together. I am sure of what I want.”

“How can you be so sure? Love is never constant, isn’t it?” I asked.

“I don’t want to argue but I just know. I am happy with today and so I know it won’t change tomorrow.”

I can’t follow his logic sometimes, but then it felt good to be needed. I guess however we deny and claim to be unaffected; the demonstration of being loved and needed is one of the most basic needs of a human being. It satisfies one of our deepest desires, more than any expression of physical love or amassed wealth, it is the simple declaration by someone that they love us and need us, which makes a difference.

Naturally, I thought about X and the stark contrast between the two people in my life. I wondered how it will end. I realized somewhere I didn’t want it to end. As Y said, even though it's not perfect, I am happy with today so until it doesn’t changes tomorrow, I will count my blessings.

Yours Honestly…

I was trying to talk to X. He was not in the mood, answering in monosyllables. I think he can express everything between ‘ah, hmmm, well and okay’. So simple and convenient. If it’s a trick question like “Do you think you will love me, when I am old and senile?” it can definitely be answered by a “Don’t know”. I also pondered should I even write this? (I know you are reading it X). Should I tell him it hurts to hear these words sometimes, after spending intimate moments, facing his typical indifference? It also leaves me confused. If it’s not there, then why does it feel like it? But then, just for today I have decided I will say, write and speak the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me god (if there is one out there…) cause if it comes like a scene out of ‘liar liar’ and I may not end up as lucky as Jim Carry does. It also answers my dilemma I guess, of debating whether to even write this when I know my thoughts are just a url away…

So here goes the confession of a lesser mortal-

I think marriages are outdated. Any relationship doesn’t guarantee commitment, even if you love someone, so why legalise it anyways? Alexander Woollcott may have been my long lost ancestor. His words “Everything I like is illegal, immoral or fattening” just reinforces my belief. I think I would have been happiest in my life living in sin. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want love. I firmly believe in love, but I think you don’t necessarily have to be binded by love. And yes Mr. Woollcott, I don’t think I am ever going to get slim and have a longer life by throwing away excess weight (even if I starve and kill myself to death anyways to be slimmer and live a little longer)

It breaks my heart to see even my own female relatives (forget about Indian women in general) don’t even have the wish to be liberated. They really love their unequal relationships. I will cook what my husband likes, not wear what my husband doesn’t like, will ask my father to get permission to go for a party. Too scared to break the mold? Or too happy actually to do anything about it? (Someone please tell me, because frankly, I don’t seem to be enjoying the role-play of Ms. Duty)

I like flirting; I think it’s a dying art. Most people automatically link it to sex, whereas it can definitely mean some interesting conversation.

I love it when X pampers me. It’s true. Maybe he is just doing it to get me in a good mood and get me ‘you know where’. But yes it makes me feel wanted, loved. I wish he could open his heart and feel this wondeful feeling of being loved again. And yes, I can’t take a shower without going beet red… you know what lies beneath that phrase X.

I feel sad for Y sometimes. He, being Y, can’t imagine the concept of emotions, people and life changing with time. For him, an emotion expressed at a moment is frozen in eternity. It’s like as you say in Hindi “patthar ki lakeer” (literal meaning- line of stone). How I wish he could see what it feels to be like to change your moods, wants and thoughts as you grow. But then I love indulging in wishful thinking.

I also envy Y. He, being Y, can easily take people for what they are. For him, there are no double meanings to life, what is said is there. The emotion expressed at a moment is frozen in eternity- he can relive it anytime he wants. Fall in love again anytime he wants. But then is it again a wishful thinking?

Sigh! Even honesty doesn’t clear the mind nowadays. Maybe what I really need is the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. Any honest directions?

2009

I may have to live with some new experiences in 2009. No, I am not going to (thankfully, cause I think it has already overdone with) talk about the Mumbai attacks (not unless I actually plan to do something), or talk about resolutions or list of places I intend to travel in this year. I am going to write about somethings, that on the face of it looks small, but sinks down and these are the things that come back when you lie down on the bed, in someone’s arms or alone and well… think about them (what else can one do I suppose?)

Y doesn’t like X – We talk about female intuitions, so powerful and sometimes so accurate. What I have realized is we are all humans after a point, our gender doesn’t differentiate us. When it comes to a relationship, if you love someone deep enough, you instantly gauge if something is different. Maybe he feels it? My female intuition says so. Why is it that he always frowns when X messages, or doesn’t like the funny anecdotes or jokes I read out from X’s messages? I think male intuition works as well.

X found out my blog – yes he has, yes he read everything, yes it is my stupidity (I mailed him a post… forgetting the existence of Google) and yes he likes it (well I would too if someone wrote a book on me!). What do I do? Well, it ranges from being embarrassed that well, whatever you think or fabricate (now I shall have to insist on some parts being “fabricated” isn’t it?) is on display to the person you never wanted to show it to (other being Y) to cool nonchalance and actually asking “How you find it? ofcourse it is not you, just a little inspiration you see …” (My pride always rescues me, who says pride goes before a fall?)

Object of my affection – this has been the most weird experience of my life. X called one morning to say he has had the most devastating experience of his life. My genetics command that my thinking process goes from worst to better, now ‘devastating’ can’t be good so my thoughts ranged from what if he lost his job to what if he has been diagnosed with AIDS? (Now that really freaked me out). What I got to know later that his ‘love’ of his life got married and didn’t tell him. I also happen to know that the ‘love’ apparently had a breakup three years back but X being X still pinning for her felt his world has ended. I felt his pain, but I draw a line on being the sounding board or a shoulder to cry on from my object of affection for someone else! I am sorry X, I know you will read it and you won’t like it, but you won’t say it. (But then it is my blog, my thoughts, you discovered it and well…live with it). An aftereffect that he may be missing in all his mess is it has somehow made him more approachable, more demonstrative and I can say more human. I think the whole world revolves around hope. More than money, love, power it is the hope of getting the love, money and power that keeps us kicking and when that goes away, survival kicks in. Maybe same is happening with X, he says hope is gone, so what does one do when hope itself is gone? He reaches out to whatever he can cling to… shreds of comfort, people and maybe past memories until hope comes back (and it does). So while he struggles and clings, I just pray it happens sooner than later. As for me, I wonder, does he love her or the memory of her?

I don’t know how will 2010 be when I ponder on these points… will they be there still? Or will I choose to drift away? I know if I was X or for that matter Y, I would have stored myself in a box, placed it in a remote corner of the heart and would have thrown away the key…

Rain on my window

I woke up to the sound of water. It was raining. At first I thought it was the terrace water tank overflowing again. My landlady has this habit of putting on the water pump at oddest hours, sometimes in the middle of night and suddenly you are jolted awake to the sound of falling water. I yawned and looked at the watch 11:45 pm. Well, not that late. The sound was much softer than gushing water and pulling the curtain, sitting on the elevated verandah next to my bed, I saw minute droplets of water spraying on the glass window…

I love rains. They make me nostalgic, happy, pensive and romantic in equal measures. My earliest memory of rains is jumping deliberately into water puddles in an oversized raincoat (to save my school bag as well from getting wet) and splashing the brown muddy water all over the white uniform. I used to love the fact that we were allowed to remove our wet and queasy shoes and socks at school on rainy days. The rough school floor always had a strange comfortable feel to it. The phone beeped, breaking my thoughts.

X had messaged asking if I was sleeping…

“I am a one man woman, I can’t even think of breaking someone’s trust”, I retorted to D. We were lying on the bed, too full after lunch at my place. The stillness gave some time for the food to settle into the inter-molecular spaces and allowed us to move again. “Hmmm… it is hard to remain in one state, be it for a human, or a feeling. You never know…”
That was four years back.

Now I surprise myself into wondering how can one person love two people at the same time? And if it’s wrong why doesn’t it feel wrong to be with X, why does his touch feels so good, or why when he kisses me, my knees give a funny feeling? I feel the same way about Y. Sometimes I wonder is this what it feels like…bittersweet… when you have tiny cracks in your glass wall.

“No, I am awake. Looking at the rain.”
“I miss you”
“Me too”
I wish I could kiss you X, feel your lips over mine, feel your skin, the way you smell immediately after you shave, the mixture of aftershave and soap, I wish I could hold you tight. I also wish I could go back in time and have my perfect glass wall again.

I sighed and went back to bed… Y was snoring softly. I spooned into him and snuggled into a deep comforting sleep.

Tale of two cities

I was looking out of the small window and saw rain striking the glass obliquely, making slant watery lines as they got washed away due to high speed. It was shaky and I clutched the handles of my seat inspite of going through the drill innumerous times. I always get butterflies when a plane takes off. It is the mild version of the giant wheel for me. (It is also a scarier version, since have seen enough programmes on Discovery Channel on airplane crashes). I was flying from Mumbai to Kolkata. Nowadays I try to live a double life in its truest form. Shuttling between Kolkata and Mumbai. Work is divided, friends are divided, love is divided and even lovers are divided between these two cities…

“God I missed you”
“Well… doesn’t feel like it. You hardly call.”
“I always reply to your messages”
“Should I say thank you?”
X kissed me on my forehead as a reply.
“You know I am a married woman”
Kiss on the cheeks
“You also know that I have a low opinion of men”
Kiss on the eyes
“I have decided, I am going become a nun”
He silenced me with a kiss on the lips.
“You can’t become a nun dear when you kiss like that”
“Hmmm”
“Feeling guilty?”
“Hmmm. Lets go out; sitting with you here can only lead to one place.”

I just looked at him while sipping my tea. I think we both realized how much we missed each other. I was leaving in an hour – to Kolkata. I said, “So, till we meet again. Miss me”.

Is there a way I can have my cake and keep it too?

SexyKnees.com

This is not a link to kinky site (all you perverted oldies out there you), not a fashion site, not even a site dedicated to arthritis where they give tips on how to relieve knee pain and make them look sexy again. This is just an account of a girl who has just realized that she is really low on all the moral values ma taught (sorry ma, but I really was never made out of sati savitri material) and has just discovered the best function of knees—how they turn into jelly when you are being kissed. There are guilty pleasures everyone has, some secretly enjoy all those bitchy and regressive saans bahu serials, some enjoy kinky sex, some like reading M&B novels on the sly (mostly men who sneak with one from their wives enroute the loo). Mine is being kissed, by X. It gives me goosebumps, prickles my skin, gets my hormones racing and most important gives me jelly knees. He may be a bad lover but he is a good kisser.

I missed it so much with you Y, why the hell don’t you just take me in your arms and give me sexy knees again?

Aapka bhavishya kya kehta hai? (what's does your future say?)

Some days are happy days … as in everything atleast starts right. You have sex in the morning when you are half sleeping and your other half- bf/husband/whoever is really turned on (wonder what makes them so ‘all for it’ in the morning – bad breaths or the pony tail turned horse’s tail?) and does all the moves on you while you just lie back and enjoy the experience. On reaching office you discover that the boss is on leave and client is in a day long workshop so you can read all those gossip columns and daily astrological predictions- ‘Aapka bhavishya kya kehta hai’ (“Just for fun” you say incase someone catches you reading whether green is luckier than blue for you today).

My day started the opposite way … fought with Y the night before on his super bloated ego (even that’s an understatement I think!), had to deliberately face the wall on the opposite side and sleep (now every girl has her pride and rather kill than thinking of snuggling in the same blanket). Woke up and realized that forgot to remove the kajal, mascara that I had put for the party last night and now had raccoon eyes. I was looking so bad that even if I would have stood, naked, infront of a man eating tiger, he would have refused to eat me up. Was just getting into the train, when cell phone pinged- message from X... was asking me how the War of Roses is going on. Ok, I agree I shouldn’t have dished out the details of my less than perfect ‘other’ relationship to him, but I did… and now I think he enjoys the perverse pleasure of knowing that my road to pleasure has rocks, no boulders on the way. I replied something inconsequential like we are just fine and have not killed each other yet. He, ofcourse, insisted on details. I do have to admit that I like this thing of having platonic relationship with X. We do everything – go out, take nice long evening walks, spend hours discussing everything under the sun, hell, I even dress up for these dates- but we don’t touch. That’s an unsaid No No as we both are trying desperately to squash the lust worm. Sometimes I even think why doesn’t he just go ahead, get a girlfriend and get laid. Maybe that will end it all, I will be too pissed to go out with him (I was always selfish) and that will break the circle.

I reached office earlier than usual and found no one had come in yet. There is something refreshingly exciting in entering an empty office and being the first one to sign the register. I ignored the Economic Times and settled down with a page 3 section. Invariably moved on to checking my horoscope. Not that I believe in them… just for fun you see. Maybe it comes subconsciously from the fact that Ma used to read our fortunes for fun every Sunday from The Sunday Indian Express in the afternoons. (Even now I have this sneaky doubt that she buys Bejan Daruwala’s annual forecasts. Though she never follows them, maybe it is just harmless fun). It did lead to, me, becoming addicted to reading The Sunday Indian Express and even now, when I am in an industry where I read on an average ten papers a day, it is my favourite paper on a Sunday.

Even the horoscope was not with me that day and predicted something that I always knew… my life sucked and will suck if I ‘don’t brace the changes and karmic obligations for a fuller life’. Like what? Run away and settle in Kenya? That’s just geography. Just then super bitch client called and blasted me for using ‘there’ instead of ‘their’ in one of her releases. Inside, I was dying of mortification, how could I do that? This is the mistake even my 5 years old nephew won’t do. I replied, in my best professionally voice I could manage, that it was a silly mistake and will rectify it. Apparently super bitch client was also PMSing and went ahead to say that she is unhappy with the release (without mentioning why) and I have to redo it. Sigh! I wish I could kill her with the phone cord at that moment. I am sure she won’t die even then, she is made of sterner stuff than that and even if she does, she will haunt me the rest of her life.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, called D and told her I am coming over. The day ended with me sitting on fluffy cushions of D’s sofa while she looked dreamily at the ceiling smoking a cigarette and exhaling smoke rings that fascinates me no end. We were already down half bottle of vodka (although I usually add lots of fruit juice and lime to ease my guilty conscious that I am halfway to a drunken euphoria). D shifted her gaze and looked at me in the eyes and said,” So, what is eating you up?” I didn’t have any answers. I guess I am in a limbo. I think all that have is more than enough, and it is in a way, but then what else am I waiting for? Why sometimes the niggling emptiness inside when I lie on my bed night after night? “What difference does it make? I want to enjoy one day at a time”, I said after sometime. She replied with her usual “Hmmm…”

Two hours later (or so I think it was… next morning details were fuzzy) we were rolling on the floor, clutching our stomachs, helpless with laughter watching the silent movie and totally drunk. I never felt better and I was laughing so much that my eyes watered and stomach ached. I thought nothing could burst my bubble and then the cell phone pinged again. It was X (or was it Y? can’t remember, but gauging the reaction from both of them next morning, definitely X. He sounded as cold as Antarctica) asking whether the war was still going on? I typed fuck you in caps and hit send. Later realized it went as duck you. Thought will call him and clarify but then thought its ok… after all duck is also 75% obscene.

Rewind and Undo

I stared out of the train, feeling the wind on my face. X always says it is because that moment when we are pushing our way towards the door and hanging precariously, half inside half outside, it gives us our personal space in this crowded rush of Mumbai. I was fascinated by the reason but for me it was something different. I stared, sometimes with radio plugged in (thanks to my technology savvy uncle who was utterly disgusted my by old fashioned mobile, which would have made a better object to hit someone rather than to be used for talking), to see if anything ever changes in this city. Many people have written about this city, fortunes made and lost, history made or plainly the powerful effect of Mumbai. I travel the same stretch of harbour line everyday, twice and see the same vashi creek (it looks better in winters as lots of birds flock in), sometimes greyer than usual because of the filth floating in it, followed by the mangroves or what is left of it, after the land has been filled up to accommodate the ever growing population of Mumbai. Sometimes the people who enter the coaches from different stations also seem same. They even smile at me as they get in. But mostly it makes me think of where I am going? Whether anything ever will change at all? I may move to Kolkata in April, but that’s just geography. A beep of message jerked me back to reality. It was Y asking me when I will be back…

I wonder why so many people stay together in marriages or in a long relationship? Is it because one it is done, there is so much to undo that it is better left as it is? Being together and still behaving as if strangers. If each one of us was given a chance to undo our past, what all we would have done to be back where we were? Sometimes I envy Y, his needs are simple… atleast it seems so. Food, game on PS2, whatever is in front of him at that moment and work. Love, affection and loyalty are taken for granted. I wonder if he wonders. I know X wonders (I would give anything to take a sneak peak into his mind). In the meantime, I have moved ahead, no more sideways. And I feel things going away, moving apart… like the big bang theory but it is so slow that you can’t see. You can just feel it.

How come our parents never seemed so shaky? They never fought, never had multiple lovers, always remained loyal and did the right thing (ok, ok I know they where not saints, but then they were ‘parents’). I want to erase my past, my present and feel the fresh, untainted love again, but even if I could undo, I think most probably, it would drive me out of my mind.

Talk to me...

“That feels heavenly, even better than a cup of hot coffee on a cold morning”, I beamed looking at A as I dipped my feet in a tub of warm, soothing, shampoo water. She smiled back and put the tub on ‘vibrating massage’ that is only for people taking the spa pedicure: the advantages of keeping yourself on the good side of your parlourwali. “So, tell me what is happening in your life?” she asked. The combination of an armchair, warm soapy water swirling around your feet may not result in relaxing your feet but it definitely loosens your tongue. No wonder all salons are a hotbed of gossips.

Just as I was going to launch myself into a tirade of complains/ complications (ok, I agree, they are mostly imaginary)/ work bitching, my phone rang. Ma was on the line.

“Hi Ma! What’s up? How come you called in afternoon?”
“Beta, you remember maasi was suppose to come to Mumbai tomorrow, she has some work in passport office in the morning, but she said she may come to meet you in second half. Take her around na a little.”
“Hmm… ok. Will take out to lunch.” I said calculating mentally focusing on my schedule for tomorrow on how to fit in 2-3 hours extra. There was a beep for call waiting and I just check… Mummyji on the other line. I don’t know how… maybe mental telepathy or something, my ma and mother –in-law have this tendency of calling me at the same time, especially when I am enjoying doing some third thing. Sigh!

“Office call ma, will call you later. Love you. Bye!” (telling her that I am hanging up to talk to Mummyji will be close to sacriledge!)

“Paye lagoo Mummyji, kaisi hain aap?”

“Jeete raho beta, I called to say that Richa bhabhi has just had a baby girl.”

I choose to ignore the hidden connotations and say “Hmmph!” Why is it that mothers, mother-in-laws infact any female after the age of 30, if she gets married and has kids, talks only of husbands and kids? I wonder if all women are compulsory sent to a training camp where they are taught ways to harass all women under 30 or anyone who is single/ does not have or wish to have kids/ does not conform to the “auntydom” in general.

If there is such a list, please include my name in the ‘Do not call’ register!

“Beta, I know this is a bit early to ask you people, especially girls nowadays, but let me tell you when we were your age we already had kids, see Richa, shaadi ke ek saal bad hi usne apni saans ko poti ka mooh dikha diya (she has gifted her mom-in-law with a granddaughter after a year itself)”

“Hmmm.” Ok. So Richa has entered the hallowed halls of fame but would I want to do the same? Having a so called “bundle of joy” taking away all the joy out of the life by crying as if the tears will solve the whole world’s water crisis and doing poop and peep as and when it pleases (yes, yes I know you will call me mean, but then I never was gung ho on maternal instincts). No Thank you. I prefer my DINK status.

Anyways, without digressing, I just gave an exasperated look at A and told Mummyji that I was entering a meeting and will call her later.

While the talkathon was going on, A had finished scraping my ankles and making my feet pretty. I have observed that having pretty feet somehow always makes the footwear look good… but unfortunately not vice versa. Maybe that’s way people just blow their fortunes on pedicures. Pedicures to poverty…

For all you people (and there aren’t many) who were wondering about X and Y. Well, X in his own words has gone B2C (Back to Celibacy). Is that suppose to make me feel bad? Well, it does not. I gave him plenty of opportunities to atleast say something, anything, but he didn’t. Now any self respecting woman would never decline marriage for anyone who doesn’t even say anything! But it also doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him. It is the kiss that you miss the most … sex one can find anywhere, but kiss has a different intimacy. What if you just want a kiss? That’s when the heartache starts…

As for Y, he is (surprise, surprise!) turning domesticated. Never thought marriage would be his unwinding. Maybe, he is one of those guy who find security once they marry and mate. Hmmm… maybe.

N just started his blog …pretty cool his first post was. Check it out on this link http://urbanmysticity.blogspot.com/ (and incase N turns out to be familiar…cross your heart N, you won’t tell!)

Wondering...

I woke up to rains. Rains always have extreme reaction on me. Either it completely peps me up or it throws me deep into an inky blob of blues. Latter happened today. It is my holiday but have to go to office, client work. It is like God has taken my request of obliterating Mr. X from my life too seriously. He is swamping me with work (upto my eyeballs I think).

All those who wondered (I suspect none though) where I was all these days… well I was doing what I usually do best – procrastinate, ruminate… one I know my brain will turn into a mushroom … rotting the way it does (eeeew… gross thought!). Anyways, giving myself a mental shake I pulled myself out of my bed and started getting ready for office. Work has come back with a vengeance. It is like Dilbert Principle… spot the sucker (me), encourage him/her with crap (me) and then download all the work to her (me), only consolation being my boss has left so I am alone in my pond… good way to show my ‘boss ka boss’ how much I work (doubtful).

Coming to X and Y… I was determined that I should now make up my mind and stick to one (Y ofcourse). Too much of see-sawing happening… but I guess my destiny has other ideas or rather my boredom… after a gap of 2 successful weeks of trying to avoid X like a plague, I gave in to the temptation of meeting him. I thought meeting him will be like you know “who cares?” Surprise, surprise I do… a little. Ok, more than a little… a little more. There are times when you want your man to tickle you physically, but there are times when you want more mental play than a physical one. Contrary to popular opinion, seeing two people at the same time is not always about lust. It is something else. I love talking to X and was symbolically patting my own back that here I am, sitting with him like a nice, good, platonic friend and not even …errr… digressing to other areas. Ofcourse, we both know what comes next but it is like we are gambling … pushing our luck and time till either one runs out.

Sometimes I envy Y. Does he ever go through this? Looking at him I doubt… I mean he is more of a ‘doer’ than a ‘thinker’. I can give my eye and tooth to take a sneak peak into his mind… does he ever drown in the spiral of thoughts the moment he sits idle? Sometimes, I wonder whether all of us live more in ‘ifs’ ‘buts’ and ‘maybe’. It reminds me of what Douglas Adams said in The Hitchhiker’s guide to the Galaxy’ – “He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it”.

Yes, that’s exactly how I feel. I just hope if it is dream, I am playing the lead character ;).

Dumpsville

I sat with my Harry Potter (yes I too have read the whole series and enjoyed it like my nephew who is one-fourth my age. But that can be another blog altogether, without digressing…) and stared moodily out of the window, over the balcony, at the gulmohar tree. I could see a crow perched up on a branch and stare back at me. It was Saturday afternoon and time was not ticking, it was crawling (rare for someone living in a city like Mumbai). My heart was not in place, I was bored and restless. I knew something was not clicking… something was wrong.

I hate to admit it, but I think I have been pseudo dumped. I use pseudo because I don’t know whether I am or I am not… dumped that is. Mr. X may come back (he usually does) but this time I have decided to toss him out. So it is like confusion on whether I have to dump him or am I already been dumped? Either ways it is not a particularly nice feeling and I chucked my Potter and thought why not pen down a ready reckoner kind of thing… you know… for all uninitiated girls like me who can’t face the fact even when it stares them in their faces that they are going through the experience of Dumpsville…


You suffer from PMS… all the time. Now I know why they coined the term ‘prickly pear’. It is like you want to scream at everyone who asks you “What’s wrong?” that “It is not that there is anything wrong, I have just been having an extended bad mood for the last two months!”

You hope that (here things can differ according to individual taste especially on the food point) – 1. He suffers from loose motions 2. He grows lice 3. He suddenly discovers while chewing food that he has chewed a giant cockroach along with his rice. 4. He suffers.

You can really relate to all sad, soppy songs in the world (ok that’s exaggerating it a bit). Instead of humming 'Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me', you start singing 'Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, dumb me?'

You get messages from all over the world except the number from which you want it to come from.

But most important of all, your ego dents. I mean it is not that it really creates a problem or makes you go into depression, but the feeling is same. When in college, my bucket of pride overflowed, and I approached this handsome guy (who actually looked a little a toad come to think of it now... yikes! my taste in men was really bad then) and when he rejected my offer of a date, cried even more loads of buckets. It is not as if you genuinely get affected, it is just that you can't digest the fact that after sharing intimate moments, anyone can become so uninterested in you. It is more of vanity factor you see... so we do as Moliere said "to find yourself jilted is a blow to your pride. Do your best to forget it and if you don't suceed, atleast pretend to".

So that brings us to the inevitable... what happens next? Do you forgive him (No), do you call him to find out what happened (No), do u give him a second (actually, definitely not his second i think) chance? (No). Then how do you get out of it? Any solutions? Since it is a ready reckoner, ofcourse it will have a solution… for me ... I look at Mr. Y and feel happy to be the kind again who will be counted in loyal dedicated committed lover when they do the sorting in heaven. And it happens sooner than you expect… the colour of his eyes are first thing you forget. Suddenly, one morning you wake up and can't remeber how he sounded, then goes the smell.

You meet next best/ worst thing around the corner and before you know it …baby, you are back in circuit!

Cold War...

He had said once, after we had a fight and I was hurt by his coldness : "Where is your sense of self? You shouldn't be affected, I think you have low self esteem"

Two thoughts going in my mind at exactly that moment were...

1. Yes, sure, the only problem is I am made of flesh, blood and feelings? (I seriously think nowadays, you are made of cement... you know concrete?)
2. Well, baby, proves my low self esteem - I slept with you didn't I?