Boring Sunday evenings, not enough brain cells to make up a coherent thought, random surveys...enough said.
1. What bill do you hate paying the most? Cell phone, why do they cost so damn much here?!
2. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner? Hmm that would be last June with my EX Matt on my birthday at this super awesome Thai place called Sea In Brooklyn, man that was a long time ago. Okay, now I’m depressed.
3. Last time you puked from drinking? Sometime in the last two months.
4. When is the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar? Dancing on bars is not for grown ups
5. Name of your first grade teacher? Mrs. Francessca Mascharanes
6. What do you really want to be doing right now? Being on vacation
7. What did you want to be when you were growing up? Miss India!
8. How many colleges did you attend? One, University of Oklahoma
9. Why did you choose the shirt that you have on right now? Because It’s hot and I wanted to be comfortable.
10. Gas Price? Don’t know, haven’t driven in a while.
11. If you could move anywhere and take someone with you? Probably Paris, London or Amsterdam, Since I’m so sick of all the the people in my life, it would definitely have to be someone new.
12. First thought when the alarm went off this morning? Why the fuck do I have to work on a Sunday?!
13. Last thought before going to sleep last night? I wish she would really stop lecturing and leave me alone
14. Favorite style of underwear? Granny panties, they are super comfortable.
15. Favorite style of underwear for the opposite sex? Boxer briefs
16. What errand/chore do you despise? Washing clothes. 17. If you didn't have to work, would you volunteer? Absolutely, If I didn't have to work I would a lot of things.
18. Get up early or sleep in? Sleeeeeeep in
19. What is your favorite cartoon character? Hobbes, Peter Parker, Peter Griffin and Belle. It’s a tie.
20. Favorite NON sexual thing to do at night with a girl/guy? Coffee and conversation.
21. Have you found real love yet? What do you think?! Would I have time to take stupid surveys if I did?
22. When did you first start feeling old? 20
23. Favorite 80's movie? Dirty Dancing…obviously
24. Your favorite lunch meat? Chicken
25. What do you get every time you go into Wal-Mart? Food and Hair Products.
26. Beach or lake? Beach
27. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual? Nope, but I don’t know if I’m equipped for it, although the making babies part is fun.
28. How many people do you stalk on Facebook? A few.
29. Favorite guilty pleasure? Cheesy romance novels and chick flicks
30. Favorite movie you wouldn't want anyone to find out about? Ha, there are a few
31. What's your drink? Vodka and Sprite
32. Cowboys or Indians? I’ll take either.
33. Cops or Robbers? Cops...their uniform is way hotter
34. Who from high school would you like to run into? No one I hate all those bitches, and the ones that I love I’m still in touch with.
35. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now? Paupers don’t have cars.
36. Norm or Cliff? who?
37. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons? Simposons did it, Simpsons did it.
39. Do you like the person who sits directly across from you at work? A thin wall seperates me and Ketan, Gosh don’t I just love the cubical culture.
40. If you could get away with it, who would you kill? No one in particular, I hate them all equally.
41. What famous person(s) would you like to have dinner with? Harukimi Murakami
42. What famous person(s) would you like to sleep with? haha, same as above and then some. 43. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose? Never ever
44. Last book you read for real? The Prince of Ayodhya…for real.
45. Do you have a teddy bear? No, Do I look like I’m five? Actually never had one when I was five either.
46. Strangest place you have ever brushed your teeth? The bathroom of a baseball stadium in Huston Texas.
47. Somewhere in California you've never been and would like to go? San Fran
48. Do you go to church? I don’t believe in God.
49. At this point in your life would you rather start a new career or a new relationship?
I’m open to possibilities, however these possibilities stay away from me.
50. Just how OLD are you? 23...for another 3 months
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Fate is a funny mistress...
It’s a small strange world that we live in. I truly believe that each an every one of us is separated from the other by just six people. We may not know this at the very moment or it may seem almost impossible to fathom, yet in this strange, mad, confusing world we remain connected to each other, for better or for worse. I know this is not a startling discovery for the rest of the world, but for a person that doesn’t believe in destiny and coincidences this was truly an epiphany.
I don’t think mankind would have survived for as long as it has if it weren’t for this strange, unfathomable connection that we have with another unsuspecting soul. The universe would have succumbed a long time ago under the ravage and plunder of wars, crimes, floods and famines if weren’t for people reaching out to each other in times of great calamity.
Possibilities that seem to be next to impossible have materialized right before my eyes time and again.They surprise and amuse me at manifestation of their impossible existense. Ever so often they convince me that just when you thought things couldn't get anymore monotonous, life throws a few surprises in your direction to shake you out of your stupor. Bizarre connections between human beings, who may have no connection at all, yet in some unsuspecting way come together in this complicated maze of life, fascinate me.
It was a humid Saturday, sweat oozed out of every open pore on my body. It slowly tricked down to god forsaken places making me angry and irritable. I walked with steady, long strides trying to get home as quickly as my feet would allow. Getting away from the oppressive heat and finally rewarding me with the well deserved nap was my sole purpose in life at that very moment. Working on the weekend never put me in a good mood, commuting in the blazing Mumbai heat to do so on a day when the rest of the world has called it quits made me livid.
I hurried along as best as I could stopping only momentarily to skillfully avoid the oncoming traffic that could potentially turn lethal in my haste. I passed the half-way mark, my cold comforting bed only a few impossibly long minutes away, when I heard the scarce summer breeze carry forth my name. I stop dead in my tracks and looked around expecting to see someone I knowm maybe a neighbor, maybe a friend. I wrinkled my brows in concentration as I tried to discern the towering figure striding my way. He smiled warmly in acknowledgement and pleasant surprise. I smiled back in confusing. He looked rather cute and oh so familiar. I looked rather greasy and dazed.
“Hey do you remember me?!” He gushed excitedly.
“Yes, of course! You are Tejas’s cousin.” I mused in a half nonplussed manner.
“No, no think again.” He said, his shoulders slumped slightly in dejection at the lack of my immediate recognition.
I stared at him perplexed, unable to put a name to the face. He finally gave up on my guessing abilities a second or two later and said that he was my neighbor from New York. Ahh, he was that quiet, shy guy who lived downstairs and never said more than two words to me for the first six months that we lived there. We eventually started to warm up towards each other at the very end of my stay, we even managed to pick up a random, stray conversation here and there admist our crazy schedules. By then it was too late, a week after he visited my place for the first and the last time I moved back to Bombay.
Six months later in a city with over five million people at junction off Hill Road and S.V Road A was the last person I expected to beacon me. Yet there we were foolishly smiling at each other, surprised at our rare chance encounter. Things like these only happen in the movies!
I was suppose to get home by 2 pm that afternoon, if it wasn’t for the last minute work that was thrust my way. He was never supposed to get off at Bandra. Yet at 5pm two Saturdays ago, fate in all its mystery brought us there at a weird junction in our lives.
I don’t think mankind would have survived for as long as it has if it weren’t for this strange, unfathomable connection that we have with another unsuspecting soul. The universe would have succumbed a long time ago under the ravage and plunder of wars, crimes, floods and famines if weren’t for people reaching out to each other in times of great calamity.
Possibilities that seem to be next to impossible have materialized right before my eyes time and again.They surprise and amuse me at manifestation of their impossible existense. Ever so often they convince me that just when you thought things couldn't get anymore monotonous, life throws a few surprises in your direction to shake you out of your stupor. Bizarre connections between human beings, who may have no connection at all, yet in some unsuspecting way come together in this complicated maze of life, fascinate me.
It was a humid Saturday, sweat oozed out of every open pore on my body. It slowly tricked down to god forsaken places making me angry and irritable. I walked with steady, long strides trying to get home as quickly as my feet would allow. Getting away from the oppressive heat and finally rewarding me with the well deserved nap was my sole purpose in life at that very moment. Working on the weekend never put me in a good mood, commuting in the blazing Mumbai heat to do so on a day when the rest of the world has called it quits made me livid.
I hurried along as best as I could stopping only momentarily to skillfully avoid the oncoming traffic that could potentially turn lethal in my haste. I passed the half-way mark, my cold comforting bed only a few impossibly long minutes away, when I heard the scarce summer breeze carry forth my name. I stop dead in my tracks and looked around expecting to see someone I knowm maybe a neighbor, maybe a friend. I wrinkled my brows in concentration as I tried to discern the towering figure striding my way. He smiled warmly in acknowledgement and pleasant surprise. I smiled back in confusing. He looked rather cute and oh so familiar. I looked rather greasy and dazed.
“Hey do you remember me?!” He gushed excitedly.
“Yes, of course! You are Tejas’s cousin.” I mused in a half nonplussed manner.
“No, no think again.” He said, his shoulders slumped slightly in dejection at the lack of my immediate recognition.
I stared at him perplexed, unable to put a name to the face. He finally gave up on my guessing abilities a second or two later and said that he was my neighbor from New York. Ahh, he was that quiet, shy guy who lived downstairs and never said more than two words to me for the first six months that we lived there. We eventually started to warm up towards each other at the very end of my stay, we even managed to pick up a random, stray conversation here and there admist our crazy schedules. By then it was too late, a week after he visited my place for the first and the last time I moved back to Bombay.
Six months later in a city with over five million people at junction off Hill Road and S.V Road A was the last person I expected to beacon me. Yet there we were foolishly smiling at each other, surprised at our rare chance encounter. Things like these only happen in the movies!
I was suppose to get home by 2 pm that afternoon, if it wasn’t for the last minute work that was thrust my way. He was never supposed to get off at Bandra. Yet at 5pm two Saturdays ago, fate in all its mystery brought us there at a weird junction in our lives.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
I miss you so
I often contemplate what it would be like to be free. No, I mean truly free. I wonder how one might be when one enters this world for the first time, or when one leaves the mortal plane after being freed from the shackles of this earthly existence. I wouldn’t really know, sadly I have no recollection of how entirely free my heart was when I drew my first breath outside my mothers womb. The moment to draw my last is not quite near.
Just for one day, in this troubled life, I would like put aside every feelings evoked from the experiences of the days gone by and live life anew.
I don’t quite desire the feeling of nothingness, for nothingness is evoked from a feeling of complete loss of faith.
No what I seek for desperately a freedom of a different kind, where my weary heart can but aside everything behind and move on with a renewed sense of life. I feel incredibly sad, I have tried so hard and failed time and again; I wish I could just give up now, leave behind once and for all the remnants of my past, and then move far, far away.
It is a terrible feeling to think and know that everything that you have worked for, tried to get away from, has gotten you back right where you started. I left home when I was seventeen and here I am six years later back in my parents house, sleeping in the same room, on the same bed that I did all those years ago. The stiffness bothered me back then just as much as it does now, yet I have been unable to do anything about it.
I feel so incredibly ashamed, I can never forget the day when dad told me to get away from here and never come back. Six years later, I stand every night at that very same spot, unable to get away. He left a very long time ago, yet I lag behind, unable to escape.
Sometimes I really wish that it was me not him, after all he had far more enthusiasm and faith in life than I could ever muster. He was brilliant and talented and passionate. He taught me the importance of doing what I loved and loving the immense satisfaction derived from doing it. He would disappear for months on a project, living in a tent in some remote jungle, sleeping under the stars and swimming with the fish. I would miss his desperately when he was away, wish he would spend more time at home, but the incredible stories that he brought back with him were worth every minute he was gone. I was so proud and happy that no one else had a dad as fun and adventurous as mine. I dreamed of growing up and being just like him. Brave and strong. Time in all its cruelty took everything away, all that passion, all that zest, all those adventures that never took place. He was always so proud of his strong and healthy physique, yet in his last moments all that remained behind was a bony carcass and a mere cruel jest of the man that he once was.
I wish I could see him just more time, hold him and beg for forgiveness. I tried so damn hard to be like him but I have failed and I’m so desperately sorry for it.
My incredible and catastrophic failure at achieving what I desire the most is incredibly frustrating. I choke each moment on unshed tears trying to gather the last ounce of courage that I have left in me to search for strength to move forward, yet I seem to be spiraling downwards, involuntarily.
I walk around with a forced smile and deceive the world time and again that I am happy to be here. I live, breath and walk a lie.
Just for one day, in this troubled life, I would like put aside every feelings evoked from the experiences of the days gone by and live life anew.
I don’t quite desire the feeling of nothingness, for nothingness is evoked from a feeling of complete loss of faith.
No what I seek for desperately a freedom of a different kind, where my weary heart can but aside everything behind and move on with a renewed sense of life. I feel incredibly sad, I have tried so hard and failed time and again; I wish I could just give up now, leave behind once and for all the remnants of my past, and then move far, far away.
It is a terrible feeling to think and know that everything that you have worked for, tried to get away from, has gotten you back right where you started. I left home when I was seventeen and here I am six years later back in my parents house, sleeping in the same room, on the same bed that I did all those years ago. The stiffness bothered me back then just as much as it does now, yet I have been unable to do anything about it.
I feel so incredibly ashamed, I can never forget the day when dad told me to get away from here and never come back. Six years later, I stand every night at that very same spot, unable to get away. He left a very long time ago, yet I lag behind, unable to escape.
Sometimes I really wish that it was me not him, after all he had far more enthusiasm and faith in life than I could ever muster. He was brilliant and talented and passionate. He taught me the importance of doing what I loved and loving the immense satisfaction derived from doing it. He would disappear for months on a project, living in a tent in some remote jungle, sleeping under the stars and swimming with the fish. I would miss his desperately when he was away, wish he would spend more time at home, but the incredible stories that he brought back with him were worth every minute he was gone. I was so proud and happy that no one else had a dad as fun and adventurous as mine. I dreamed of growing up and being just like him. Brave and strong. Time in all its cruelty took everything away, all that passion, all that zest, all those adventures that never took place. He was always so proud of his strong and healthy physique, yet in his last moments all that remained behind was a bony carcass and a mere cruel jest of the man that he once was.
I wish I could see him just more time, hold him and beg for forgiveness. I tried so damn hard to be like him but I have failed and I’m so desperately sorry for it.
My incredible and catastrophic failure at achieving what I desire the most is incredibly frustrating. I choke each moment on unshed tears trying to gather the last ounce of courage that I have left in me to search for strength to move forward, yet I seem to be spiraling downwards, involuntarily.
I walk around with a forced smile and deceive the world time and again that I am happy to be here. I live, breath and walk a lie.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
On days like this....I wish I was an accountant
If at this very moment I could really kill someone and not have to deal with the repercussion of my violent actions, I certainly would. All moral qualms and reservations that I possess against inflicting mind boggling pain to another human being just got tossed out of the window about a minute and a half ago.
There are generally two kinds of people that ultimately affect the destiny of all humanity, the good and bad bosses. In all my years of indentured servitude that almost always border on slavery these two categories of the human race have severely affected my existence in more ways than one.
I work for a horrid, horrid man. He is inconsiderate, judgmental and all assuming. The mighty messiah of this wretched organization knows it all even though he might know absolutely nothing at all. To be honest I haven’t been miss perfect either, I have made my fair share of mistakes to say the least, but I am no fool, when I know I’ve done something wrong, I always make it a point to note it down and never repeat it twice if I can.
You meet all kinds of people in life; S was quiet and stern and talked only when it was absolutely needed. She walked around the office in her no-nonsense style and conducted meetings with great efficiency and diligence. I loved S, she was the model boss; she is among the few people that inspired me to put in my utmost effort in whatever I did and do it with sincerity. I do aspire to be like her someday. One of the saddest things about leaving New York and Oxford was that I would never get to work with S again. People don’t really change jobs they change bosses.
My winning streak at work ended about six months ago. Here I am in Bombay finally doing the work that I love for a wretched, wretched man that absolutely hates everything I do. I have entirely forgotten what it is like to be appreciated and acknowledged for my efforts. It has all simply come down to counting how many times I don’t fuck up and get yelled at each day. I’m almost convinced each day, precisely by mid-afternoon that I’m completely useless, a sad waste of breathing space and matter, I kick my self in the shin by three pm and try to convince myself otherwise.
Calling someone horrid and disparaging is rather hypocritical on part; I have been guilty of that time and again. But to let ones pre-conceived notions affect every opinion that they form about another human being is so totally unfair!
You know, there is no way of pleasing certain people. This other S falls in that bloody annoying category. I know with great certainty that I am not always right, shit I am the queen of mess-ups, but I know for a fact that I am not always wrong! How can I possibly remotely please someone that thinks I’m a tad bit weird and maybe a little insane?
Am I really all these things? Yeah sure in a way, but really now who isn’t? Our eccentricities are what make us tick as individuals. Sure I have been lost in my own little sad, personal, convoluted universe for the past two months, but ever since I was made to realize the errors of my ways, well at least in the work place, I have been careful enough to stay focused, alert and on the top of my game.
How does one go about fighting the impressions of the past? As the only creatures in existence to be concerned with the consequences of our past deeds, I am in a terrible place. I wish I could just go back, rewind time and convenience S that I’m not crazy, weird or insane. I have a million things to do each day, things that require my utmost attention, things that might slip through the cracks and cause everyone a lot of grief. I make my notes and I re-read them time and again. But alas, I’m no mind-reader, when things do go wrong, which in my life they invariably do, I can’t magically guess it.
If I was blessed with that kind of divinity and intuition I would definitely not choose to be at this place in my life, really who would? So really, when I do ask about a certain thing, it is not my heartfelt intention to nag, pester or annoy, it is merely to remain informed. Will somebody just please tell him that. If and when I do get fired lack of communication will most definitely not be an issue this time around!
When my legacy is discussed long after I have gone, it shall be said time and again that her long, hard walk to disaster was paved with the most excellent of intentions. Everything I do or say turns to shit, when I am hanging between two worlds after my inevitable end I shall ask, no beg St. Peter or whoever it is that is in charge of reincarnation to please make me the slimy moss that grows on the rock at the bottom of the ocean. I can’t stand to be born human, not again. If the gift of humanity entails being unceremoniously tossed time and again, they I’m far better off living a stationary existence.
PS: I'll try to write about happy things next time.
There are generally two kinds of people that ultimately affect the destiny of all humanity, the good and bad bosses. In all my years of indentured servitude that almost always border on slavery these two categories of the human race have severely affected my existence in more ways than one.
I work for a horrid, horrid man. He is inconsiderate, judgmental and all assuming. The mighty messiah of this wretched organization knows it all even though he might know absolutely nothing at all. To be honest I haven’t been miss perfect either, I have made my fair share of mistakes to say the least, but I am no fool, when I know I’ve done something wrong, I always make it a point to note it down and never repeat it twice if I can.
You meet all kinds of people in life; S was quiet and stern and talked only when it was absolutely needed. She walked around the office in her no-nonsense style and conducted meetings with great efficiency and diligence. I loved S, she was the model boss; she is among the few people that inspired me to put in my utmost effort in whatever I did and do it with sincerity. I do aspire to be like her someday. One of the saddest things about leaving New York and Oxford was that I would never get to work with S again. People don’t really change jobs they change bosses.
My winning streak at work ended about six months ago. Here I am in Bombay finally doing the work that I love for a wretched, wretched man that absolutely hates everything I do. I have entirely forgotten what it is like to be appreciated and acknowledged for my efforts. It has all simply come down to counting how many times I don’t fuck up and get yelled at each day. I’m almost convinced each day, precisely by mid-afternoon that I’m completely useless, a sad waste of breathing space and matter, I kick my self in the shin by three pm and try to convince myself otherwise.
Calling someone horrid and disparaging is rather hypocritical on part; I have been guilty of that time and again. But to let ones pre-conceived notions affect every opinion that they form about another human being is so totally unfair!
You know, there is no way of pleasing certain people. This other S falls in that bloody annoying category. I know with great certainty that I am not always right, shit I am the queen of mess-ups, but I know for a fact that I am not always wrong! How can I possibly remotely please someone that thinks I’m a tad bit weird and maybe a little insane?
Am I really all these things? Yeah sure in a way, but really now who isn’t? Our eccentricities are what make us tick as individuals. Sure I have been lost in my own little sad, personal, convoluted universe for the past two months, but ever since I was made to realize the errors of my ways, well at least in the work place, I have been careful enough to stay focused, alert and on the top of my game.
How does one go about fighting the impressions of the past? As the only creatures in existence to be concerned with the consequences of our past deeds, I am in a terrible place. I wish I could just go back, rewind time and convenience S that I’m not crazy, weird or insane. I have a million things to do each day, things that require my utmost attention, things that might slip through the cracks and cause everyone a lot of grief. I make my notes and I re-read them time and again. But alas, I’m no mind-reader, when things do go wrong, which in my life they invariably do, I can’t magically guess it.
If I was blessed with that kind of divinity and intuition I would definitely not choose to be at this place in my life, really who would? So really, when I do ask about a certain thing, it is not my heartfelt intention to nag, pester or annoy, it is merely to remain informed. Will somebody just please tell him that. If and when I do get fired lack of communication will most definitely not be an issue this time around!
When my legacy is discussed long after I have gone, it shall be said time and again that her long, hard walk to disaster was paved with the most excellent of intentions. Everything I do or say turns to shit, when I am hanging between two worlds after my inevitable end I shall ask, no beg St. Peter or whoever it is that is in charge of reincarnation to please make me the slimy moss that grows on the rock at the bottom of the ocean. I can’t stand to be born human, not again. If the gift of humanity entails being unceremoniously tossed time and again, they I’m far better off living a stationary existence.
PS: I'll try to write about happy things next time.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Friday Night Lights....
Last night was fun, after a really exhausting and challenging week at work I was finally ready to roll up my sleeves and seriously unwind. My quest for a perfectly enjoyable evening took me to Zenzi, of course. It’s that friendly neighborhood bar where everybody knows your name….well actually, they don’t but does it really matter anyways?
The place was bustling in its Friday night frenzy, S and I walked in there together. He was a tad bit earlier than I, in anticipation of my grand “coming”; he aimlessly walked the streets in order to avoid the painful awkwardness of being at a bar all alone on a Friday night. I often wonder why we as people always find it so incredibly painful to encounter our isolation in a crowd. What is this inexplicable need to be constantly seen heard and wanted in general public view?
S is my new friend, a good specimen of the human race, I think with time and effort we could embark upon a beautiful friendship. He is definitely my benchmark for future boyfriend material, after all who wouldn’t want to be with a cute, smart, funny, kind guy who would adore you. Yeah maybe I would be bored initially, the sweetness would be incredibly nauseating, but once my stomach has settled I think it would be a nice treat.
My friend M is dating this incredibly sweet guy for the last few weeks. Last night he mentioned within hearing distance that he was waiting for his “girlfriend” to arrive. So when does dating turn into a relationship? Is it after the fourth, fifth, tenth date? Is it a relationship if you see each other every day in a non-platonic manner and just assume you are with each other? Or is the “so what are we?” conversation absolutely essential to take the dating encounter into the next big “R” stage.
And really now, who gets to make that decision? As much as I like P it was rather presumptuous of him to assume that M and he are in relationship when there was really no conversation to that effect. Why does it always have to be the man who gets to make the call on a decision that equally affects both people? It’s not just India; this is a truly global masculine trend that unfailingly repeats itself in every single culture across the universe.
As a woman am I suppose to be happy and all accepting of the fact that the men which we associate with are willing to finally accept us as girlfriends, wife’s or whatever, therefore we must accept this decision unquestioningly?
When a woman wants to, or is finally ready to go from dating stage to a relationship or from a relationship to a marriage, more often than not the man gets completely freaked out and runs away. We as the docile, gentler sex are expected to accept the hash reality that some of the most monumental decisions in our lives aren’t really made by us at all.
The night progressed and so did the jolly good time. S and I ran into several people that we know including Butch Cassidy and his bitch that we met at the saloon a few days back. As the awkward small talk progressed, J had the audacity to ask me in rather upright manner if I came to Zenzi all the time? I think I even noticed him turn his nose up ever so slightly as he spoke those condescending words.
First of all, if he has seen me at Zenzi ALL the time, he is there just as often as I am, therefore the moral high ground that he stands on so damn proudly come crashing down with a big, huge, loud ugly THUD.
Even if I did go to Zenzi everyday it’s clearly none of his business. Oh wait but it is, because in this rather complicated world that we co-exist in, we choose to wear our so called liberal ideals on our sleeves so proudly, which of course only apply to us. Deep down inside we will never tolerate those same values exercised by others, especially our women. Imagine the horror if J does end up with a woman who is smarter than he is, (which wouldn’t be that hard to find) who can think for herself and the worse of all make her own decisions, including how often she wants to hang out at her favorite bar.
The place was bustling in its Friday night frenzy, S and I walked in there together. He was a tad bit earlier than I, in anticipation of my grand “coming”; he aimlessly walked the streets in order to avoid the painful awkwardness of being at a bar all alone on a Friday night. I often wonder why we as people always find it so incredibly painful to encounter our isolation in a crowd. What is this inexplicable need to be constantly seen heard and wanted in general public view?
S is my new friend, a good specimen of the human race, I think with time and effort we could embark upon a beautiful friendship. He is definitely my benchmark for future boyfriend material, after all who wouldn’t want to be with a cute, smart, funny, kind guy who would adore you. Yeah maybe I would be bored initially, the sweetness would be incredibly nauseating, but once my stomach has settled I think it would be a nice treat.
My friend M is dating this incredibly sweet guy for the last few weeks. Last night he mentioned within hearing distance that he was waiting for his “girlfriend” to arrive. So when does dating turn into a relationship? Is it after the fourth, fifth, tenth date? Is it a relationship if you see each other every day in a non-platonic manner and just assume you are with each other? Or is the “so what are we?” conversation absolutely essential to take the dating encounter into the next big “R” stage.
And really now, who gets to make that decision? As much as I like P it was rather presumptuous of him to assume that M and he are in relationship when there was really no conversation to that effect. Why does it always have to be the man who gets to make the call on a decision that equally affects both people? It’s not just India; this is a truly global masculine trend that unfailingly repeats itself in every single culture across the universe.
As a woman am I suppose to be happy and all accepting of the fact that the men which we associate with are willing to finally accept us as girlfriends, wife’s or whatever, therefore we must accept this decision unquestioningly?
When a woman wants to, or is finally ready to go from dating stage to a relationship or from a relationship to a marriage, more often than not the man gets completely freaked out and runs away. We as the docile, gentler sex are expected to accept the hash reality that some of the most monumental decisions in our lives aren’t really made by us at all.
The night progressed and so did the jolly good time. S and I ran into several people that we know including Butch Cassidy and his bitch that we met at the saloon a few days back. As the awkward small talk progressed, J had the audacity to ask me in rather upright manner if I came to Zenzi all the time? I think I even noticed him turn his nose up ever so slightly as he spoke those condescending words.
First of all, if he has seen me at Zenzi ALL the time, he is there just as often as I am, therefore the moral high ground that he stands on so damn proudly come crashing down with a big, huge, loud ugly THUD.
Even if I did go to Zenzi everyday it’s clearly none of his business. Oh wait but it is, because in this rather complicated world that we co-exist in, we choose to wear our so called liberal ideals on our sleeves so proudly, which of course only apply to us. Deep down inside we will never tolerate those same values exercised by others, especially our women. Imagine the horror if J does end up with a woman who is smarter than he is, (which wouldn’t be that hard to find) who can think for herself and the worse of all make her own decisions, including how often she wants to hang out at her favorite bar.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
When biology takes over...
Hello, my non-existent readership and fans in the making. Since I have vowed to make more of an effort to write, here I am, two days after my extremely depressing post. Luck for me, I have been blessed with an steely sense of determination by the Almighty. If I ever run into him some day, by some freak accident, I will make sure to thank him for this one. With new found inspiration and divine intervention I have dived into work with renewed energy and wisdom. Personally, I don’t think I ever really lacked it, but now I make it super obvious to those around me.
My attitude went from quietly working and intermettiantly day-dreaming at my desk to-Look, look I am super excited about making a million budgets! Weeding through countless invoices and technical jargon is my new found passion! My personal favorite is going through ALL my old emails and reading them at least three times so that I absolutely capture every single, subtle nuance of it in my mind. I'm so dedicated about what I do that I have even started to contemplate everything including my life as an excel sheet. They wanted questions, consider their wish granted, I have way too many of them floating in my mind anyways, now everyone will know what kind of query is bothering me then and there and it won't be pleasant!
Figuring out things on your own is so overrated anyways!
Seriously though, I have been pretty busy with mountains of work and have been putting in the extra time and effort to smooth things over. This hasn’t stopped me from making some pretty stupid mistakes, but everyone is allowed some slack right? I just hope my boss notices my change of “attitude” and doesn’t fire me for my lack “enthusiasm” or “communication”. I could go on and on, but my fingers are worked to the bone and typing this is taking some serious effort. I just hope that my medical insurance covers Corporal Tunnel (sp?).
I have been rather cheerful since yesterday, for no particular reason. Considering the state of mind that I was in the previous day, this is simply wonderful. Nothing pleasantly out of the ordinary or remotely thrilling has happened that would make me go “yippee” on the inside. Life is chugging along in its routine fashion. There’s work, followed by the gym, followed by some quiet reading time, on the nights that I am home, or a drink or several drinks at Zenzi. There have been no wild, unpredictable, exciting, encounters. Kisses stolen in the dark alley have not tintilated my senses. Mind blowing sex with someone delicious hasn't occured either. In spite of the lack of obvious, visible excitement, I am pleasantly numb. Maybe I have finally learnt to let the simple pleasures in life intoxicate my senses and supply a healthy sense of emotional well-being.
I’m in a superb state of mind after my rigorous workout. Those pheromones or endorphins or whatever it is that is released from exercising does weird shit to the chemical composition of my brain and generally puts in a wonderful, wonderful place! For those few pleasant hours, gone are the feelings of grumpiness, isolation, trouble and melancholy. It’s most definitely better than sex. The only person that needs to be satisfied here is I and I am plenty capable of doing that. The second runner-up would most definitely be masturbation, which is in a league of its own. Sometimes I really wonder why women even bother with men? Practically speaking they serve very little purpose, which really when considered can be satisfied by other means with far greater satisfaction and competence. Maybe I can train myself to not ever need a man while still maintaining my heterosexuality. I would possibly be the only woman in the world to achieve this. Oh the glory and accolades that I would be showered with! The praise and adulation thrust upon me by all of womankind would be simply spectacular.
My attitude went from quietly working and intermettiantly day-dreaming at my desk to-Look, look I am super excited about making a million budgets! Weeding through countless invoices and technical jargon is my new found passion! My personal favorite is going through ALL my old emails and reading them at least three times so that I absolutely capture every single, subtle nuance of it in my mind. I'm so dedicated about what I do that I have even started to contemplate everything including my life as an excel sheet. They wanted questions, consider their wish granted, I have way too many of them floating in my mind anyways, now everyone will know what kind of query is bothering me then and there and it won't be pleasant!
Figuring out things on your own is so overrated anyways!
Seriously though, I have been pretty busy with mountains of work and have been putting in the extra time and effort to smooth things over. This hasn’t stopped me from making some pretty stupid mistakes, but everyone is allowed some slack right? I just hope my boss notices my change of “attitude” and doesn’t fire me for my lack “enthusiasm” or “communication”. I could go on and on, but my fingers are worked to the bone and typing this is taking some serious effort. I just hope that my medical insurance covers Corporal Tunnel (sp?).
I have been rather cheerful since yesterday, for no particular reason. Considering the state of mind that I was in the previous day, this is simply wonderful. Nothing pleasantly out of the ordinary or remotely thrilling has happened that would make me go “yippee” on the inside. Life is chugging along in its routine fashion. There’s work, followed by the gym, followed by some quiet reading time, on the nights that I am home, or a drink or several drinks at Zenzi. There have been no wild, unpredictable, exciting, encounters. Kisses stolen in the dark alley have not tintilated my senses. Mind blowing sex with someone delicious hasn't occured either. In spite of the lack of obvious, visible excitement, I am pleasantly numb. Maybe I have finally learnt to let the simple pleasures in life intoxicate my senses and supply a healthy sense of emotional well-being.
I’m in a superb state of mind after my rigorous workout. Those pheromones or endorphins or whatever it is that is released from exercising does weird shit to the chemical composition of my brain and generally puts in a wonderful, wonderful place! For those few pleasant hours, gone are the feelings of grumpiness, isolation, trouble and melancholy. It’s most definitely better than sex. The only person that needs to be satisfied here is I and I am plenty capable of doing that. The second runner-up would most definitely be masturbation, which is in a league of its own. Sometimes I really wonder why women even bother with men? Practically speaking they serve very little purpose, which really when considered can be satisfied by other means with far greater satisfaction and competence. Maybe I can train myself to not ever need a man while still maintaining my heterosexuality. I would possibly be the only woman in the world to achieve this. Oh the glory and accolades that I would be showered with! The praise and adulation thrust upon me by all of womankind would be simply spectacular.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Restoring the Culture of Faith
Today was a terrible day. I have been utterly and truly upset since about I pm this afternoon. In the grand scheme of things, my problems might seem oh so miniscule and it truly might be a possibility that I’m completely and utterly overreacting but then again, when have I claimed otherwise? You know I’m always somewhat okay about that fact that I have very little love and little money in my shallow coffers, but all this seemed somewhat unimportant because I always have one thing to fall back on. My work. It has always been a wonderful consolation to know that even though everything seemed wrong and utterly unfair at the moment, I always had my job that made life meaningful.
I still remember the day when I fell in love with the movies, how could I possibly ever forget? The unexplainable surge of pure job that filled my heart when I saw the mesmerizing visual poetry manifest before my eyes gave my life a whole new meaning. It was at that moment that I for the first time discovered the purpose of my life. I had to be a part of this magnificent process, in what capacity was irrelevant. All I knew was that I must some how be a part it, for the happiest I have been is when I have been watching a film.
Here I am five years later, working in the movie industry, truly utterly enjoying every moment of. My job very much defines who I am, it’s not work, and it’s my life. At the end of a terrible or for that matter even a great day, what I look forward to most is loosing myself for just those precious few hours in someone else’s life. Their joys thrill me to no end and their heartbreak and sorrow make me weep in empathy. I embark upon fantastic adventures through the magic of the silver screen and fall in love time and again through epic everlasting romances manifested in the movies. Everything that I have always wanted to do or see I have, though the movies. Imagine my pleasure when I finally got my dream job, which allowed me to be a part of this fantastic machine.
Imagine my complete heartbreak today when my boss calls me in his cabin today and tells me that he feels like I’m not making a valuable contribution to the organization. The last thing that I’ve ever wanted to do was work a nine to five; if this were to be the course of my destiny then I would have been a clerk or an accountant. I would have been my mother whose work has always been a means to an end and not her passion or her purpose in life. I was horrified, I was traumatized, and I was devastated. My boss felt that I have had a communication gap with the rest of my team members, which has affected my productivity. This isn’t entirely wrong-hey at least I have the guts to admit when I’m at fault, well somewhat anyways. I have been truly and utterly self-absorbed in the intricate workings of my life; I was depressed for weeks, maybe months. I have been completely lost within myself, reflecting, thinking, internalizing, brooding, being disconnected from the outside world, conversing very little with those around. Unfortunately I spend a good chunk of my day and work, since most of my thinking and internalizing happens at work, yes I know I have come off as somewhat hostile and un-approachable. But for fuck say to say that I’m not passionate about films and what I do especially when I love it so is sheer blasphemy. The cheery on this shit cake would be my boss saying that I need to express my passion for my work more say like hmmm T is absolutely irritating.
In order to show that I love what I do I need to jump around like an idiot, scream yell, criticize everyone else, spout out random ideas that may or may materialize, loudly complain that no one really gets me and generally act like a five year old. Ah, yeah not really my style, but I’ll give being visibly passionate a chance instead of internalizing it like everything else.
I know I’m wrong, I should have been careful enough to not come off as hostile, spent more time asking questions and not assuming that everyone works independently and autonomously like I do. But by no way or means have I ignored my responsibilities or treated my job as an unnecessary chore. On the contrary I have been working really hard, hence the utter disappointment, shock and internal flood of tears when A told me that he has very little faith in me.
I’m a novice to the Indian working environment, all my adult working years, until now of course, I have worked overseas. I’m not used to the Indian working model which comprises of pretty much kissing everyone’s ass, asking your seniors unnecessary questions to make the feel knowledgeable and ultimately consulting them even before I feel like farting to make them feel superior. I’ll keep this in mind next time I head to work to prevent another disaster like today; after all I have another “review” in a month. I need to restore their faith, whatever that means…
I still remember the day when I fell in love with the movies, how could I possibly ever forget? The unexplainable surge of pure job that filled my heart when I saw the mesmerizing visual poetry manifest before my eyes gave my life a whole new meaning. It was at that moment that I for the first time discovered the purpose of my life. I had to be a part of this magnificent process, in what capacity was irrelevant. All I knew was that I must some how be a part it, for the happiest I have been is when I have been watching a film.
Here I am five years later, working in the movie industry, truly utterly enjoying every moment of. My job very much defines who I am, it’s not work, and it’s my life. At the end of a terrible or for that matter even a great day, what I look forward to most is loosing myself for just those precious few hours in someone else’s life. Their joys thrill me to no end and their heartbreak and sorrow make me weep in empathy. I embark upon fantastic adventures through the magic of the silver screen and fall in love time and again through epic everlasting romances manifested in the movies. Everything that I have always wanted to do or see I have, though the movies. Imagine my pleasure when I finally got my dream job, which allowed me to be a part of this fantastic machine.
Imagine my complete heartbreak today when my boss calls me in his cabin today and tells me that he feels like I’m not making a valuable contribution to the organization. The last thing that I’ve ever wanted to do was work a nine to five; if this were to be the course of my destiny then I would have been a clerk or an accountant. I would have been my mother whose work has always been a means to an end and not her passion or her purpose in life. I was horrified, I was traumatized, and I was devastated. My boss felt that I have had a communication gap with the rest of my team members, which has affected my productivity. This isn’t entirely wrong-hey at least I have the guts to admit when I’m at fault, well somewhat anyways. I have been truly and utterly self-absorbed in the intricate workings of my life; I was depressed for weeks, maybe months. I have been completely lost within myself, reflecting, thinking, internalizing, brooding, being disconnected from the outside world, conversing very little with those around. Unfortunately I spend a good chunk of my day and work, since most of my thinking and internalizing happens at work, yes I know I have come off as somewhat hostile and un-approachable. But for fuck say to say that I’m not passionate about films and what I do especially when I love it so is sheer blasphemy. The cheery on this shit cake would be my boss saying that I need to express my passion for my work more say like hmmm T is absolutely irritating.
In order to show that I love what I do I need to jump around like an idiot, scream yell, criticize everyone else, spout out random ideas that may or may materialize, loudly complain that no one really gets me and generally act like a five year old. Ah, yeah not really my style, but I’ll give being visibly passionate a chance instead of internalizing it like everything else.
I know I’m wrong, I should have been careful enough to not come off as hostile, spent more time asking questions and not assuming that everyone works independently and autonomously like I do. But by no way or means have I ignored my responsibilities or treated my job as an unnecessary chore. On the contrary I have been working really hard, hence the utter disappointment, shock and internal flood of tears when A told me that he has very little faith in me.
I’m a novice to the Indian working environment, all my adult working years, until now of course, I have worked overseas. I’m not used to the Indian working model which comprises of pretty much kissing everyone’s ass, asking your seniors unnecessary questions to make the feel knowledgeable and ultimately consulting them even before I feel like farting to make them feel superior. I’ll keep this in mind next time I head to work to prevent another disaster like today; after all I have another “review” in a month. I need to restore their faith, whatever that means…
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Sometimes it's so just damn hard...
I have been wanted to write for days, after all as is the law of nature time keeps moving ahead and with it wittingly or unwittingly so does my life. I have been caught in the frenzy of wedding madness for the last few days. Not mine of course, but does that even surprise anyone?! I thrive well in chaos, chaos brings emotional turbulence and turbulence makes me tick, a wedding environment encompasses all this, therefore by association I love weddings.
The last few days have well and truly been a wild, unpredictable and often an incomprehensible emotional ride. There are no stories of unfulfilled sexual fantasies finally satiated. That only happens in the movies and American sitcoms, not in my life. Feeling extremely bloated from water retention doesn’t add to my sex appeal either. Hence on the personal front things have been just plain bland.
I’ve been perpetually tired, hungry, sleep deprived, cold and cranky for the last odd month or so. Things are now somewhat better now that my friend has left for the states and I finally have my room back. At least I can now sleep again, which does wonders for state of being.
I was having a strange conversation with some friends last night over a couple of drinks at Zenzi. Yes, I know, drinking on Monday’s is not generally recommended for good responsible working adults, but when have I claimed to know better?! A friend of a friend was visiting town for two days with a colleague from the U.K and the conversation somehow steered towards the number of hot people they had noticed during their brief stay. The count was at eleven. An insignificant amount when you take into consideration the eighteen million odd people that exist in this city.
Really now, what really constitutes as hot for someone?! We are all made out of the same basic body parts, yet the oh so subtle contours, shapes, lines and angles at which these parts are arched that makes us so vastly different from each other. Does physical appearance really, really matter in the end? Sure it is enough in the beginning to ignite that spark of attraction that may often times lead to some sort of an attraction between people, but is it really enough to ever sustain any meaningful relationship? What really constitutes as a meaningful relationship anyways? Is it fulfillment of sorts? If it is so then when is it that we reach that final state of contentment with another human being in our turbulent state of existence?
The musings of these strangers on the contemplation of hotness or its lack there of made me think of the people that I have encountered in the last six odd months or so since I moved back home. I may have possibly made eye-contact with say about ten thousand people, out which I barely remember a couple hundred odd faces, out of those two hundred I may have interacted with about fifty on a personal level, out of which five remain memorable. Out of those five three are emotionally unavailable, one is in a relationship and the other is a taint on human existence. In a city of eighteen million people, roughly half of which is men, there is absolutely no one worth dating. Now that’s a depressing scenario.
I’m weak and shallow. I crave attention and physical affection. It doesn’t take much to please me; a little attention from the opposite is all that it takes initially to make life a tad bit more interesting. Honestly who doesn’t want to be thought as sexy and desirable by someone of the opposite sex, hell I’ve been s damn deprived I’ll even settle with the same sex for now. But my ultimate honest confession, this only takes me so far. The truth of the matter is that I need someone interesting, smart and fun to establish a relationship with. That leaves me with very little to no options at all. I’m old fashioned and boring. For me a great date is a lively, interesting, and invigorating conversation about literature, film, politics and religion at a cozy, quiet bar over a few drinks. The good news is that I’m easy to please; the bad news is that apparently most men in Bombay don’t read. Nothing is sexier than a sexy mind, maybe I’m the only one that thinks so. Sometimes I get so lonely alone that I cry out in sheer frustration.
Many a times I reach out in my sleep hoping to snuggle a little closer to Matt or Paul but all I encounter is the cold, hard, empty bed.
I want a meaningful connection, but sometimes I get so physically frustrated that the search for meaning seems meaningless. My better self tells me to watch out and not let my physical urges get the better of me, but my naughty, horny self just tells me to go fuck, fuck, fuck!
I’m not hard to get, all someone has to do is captivate me in an interesting enough conversation, add a dash of Kafka and Camus in there, garnish it with a heated debate about the Israeli Palestinian and wola, I’m ready to drop my pants. In a world where everyone assumes multiple identities, it’s hard to find someone, anyone that I can identify with.
Okay I admit, I’m frustrated, but I have great reason, after what seemed like an eon of dating drought I have managed to meet three supposedly great men in the last two weeks! I sometimes catch myself grinning from ear to ear at the endless possibilities that this could lead too. Sadly, the excitement of it all is slowly dying and what lingers behind is plain disappointment.
The Bollywood actor that could potentially be a star seems entirely avoidable as he is obsessive and clingy. I don’t enjoy being called sweetie and honey by someone I have just met, let alone someone whose name I didn’t remember for the longest time. The investment banker is just plain bland and boring (maybe just the right thing I need at this point?) and then there is the cute, hot, dumb bar boy who I am currently obsessed with.
Cute, hot, bar boy is tall and handsome. He has lean arms that are just the right girth and a broad chest that I’m dying to see shirt less. He has an assortment of scars that embellish his body that makes him oh so alluring. He rides a motor cycle and lives exactly ten minutes away from me. Need I say more? I want to peel is clothes with my teeth. Cute bar boy also happens to be the dumbest man I have ever met, maybe. I have relentless flirted with him since the day we met and he just doesn’t seem to get the message. Subtlety is not my forte and apparently he doesn’t understand open advances either, the few times that I have seen him, which would be exactly twice to be precise, I have talked more with his friends than actually him. I could contemplate the possibility that just maybe he isn’t all that interested in me, the thought is honestly frightening, so I’ll leave contemplating the worse for later. Right now I just want to have him cornered alone and jump his bones, only if he would just call me!
My search for meaning has taken me far and wide, when I’m finally ready for a meaningful relationship, I’ll settle for the good Marathi IT engineer from Kolhapur that mom picks for me. Right now I’ll be perfectly happy with a nice romp in the sack with hot, dumb, bar boy which, of course I will regret later.
The last few days have well and truly been a wild, unpredictable and often an incomprehensible emotional ride. There are no stories of unfulfilled sexual fantasies finally satiated. That only happens in the movies and American sitcoms, not in my life. Feeling extremely bloated from water retention doesn’t add to my sex appeal either. Hence on the personal front things have been just plain bland.
I’ve been perpetually tired, hungry, sleep deprived, cold and cranky for the last odd month or so. Things are now somewhat better now that my friend has left for the states and I finally have my room back. At least I can now sleep again, which does wonders for state of being.
I was having a strange conversation with some friends last night over a couple of drinks at Zenzi. Yes, I know, drinking on Monday’s is not generally recommended for good responsible working adults, but when have I claimed to know better?! A friend of a friend was visiting town for two days with a colleague from the U.K and the conversation somehow steered towards the number of hot people they had noticed during their brief stay. The count was at eleven. An insignificant amount when you take into consideration the eighteen million odd people that exist in this city.
Really now, what really constitutes as hot for someone?! We are all made out of the same basic body parts, yet the oh so subtle contours, shapes, lines and angles at which these parts are arched that makes us so vastly different from each other. Does physical appearance really, really matter in the end? Sure it is enough in the beginning to ignite that spark of attraction that may often times lead to some sort of an attraction between people, but is it really enough to ever sustain any meaningful relationship? What really constitutes as a meaningful relationship anyways? Is it fulfillment of sorts? If it is so then when is it that we reach that final state of contentment with another human being in our turbulent state of existence?
The musings of these strangers on the contemplation of hotness or its lack there of made me think of the people that I have encountered in the last six odd months or so since I moved back home. I may have possibly made eye-contact with say about ten thousand people, out which I barely remember a couple hundred odd faces, out of those two hundred I may have interacted with about fifty on a personal level, out of which five remain memorable. Out of those five three are emotionally unavailable, one is in a relationship and the other is a taint on human existence. In a city of eighteen million people, roughly half of which is men, there is absolutely no one worth dating. Now that’s a depressing scenario.
I’m weak and shallow. I crave attention and physical affection. It doesn’t take much to please me; a little attention from the opposite is all that it takes initially to make life a tad bit more interesting. Honestly who doesn’t want to be thought as sexy and desirable by someone of the opposite sex, hell I’ve been s damn deprived I’ll even settle with the same sex for now. But my ultimate honest confession, this only takes me so far. The truth of the matter is that I need someone interesting, smart and fun to establish a relationship with. That leaves me with very little to no options at all. I’m old fashioned and boring. For me a great date is a lively, interesting, and invigorating conversation about literature, film, politics and religion at a cozy, quiet bar over a few drinks. The good news is that I’m easy to please; the bad news is that apparently most men in Bombay don’t read. Nothing is sexier than a sexy mind, maybe I’m the only one that thinks so. Sometimes I get so lonely alone that I cry out in sheer frustration.
Many a times I reach out in my sleep hoping to snuggle a little closer to Matt or Paul but all I encounter is the cold, hard, empty bed.
I want a meaningful connection, but sometimes I get so physically frustrated that the search for meaning seems meaningless. My better self tells me to watch out and not let my physical urges get the better of me, but my naughty, horny self just tells me to go fuck, fuck, fuck!
I’m not hard to get, all someone has to do is captivate me in an interesting enough conversation, add a dash of Kafka and Camus in there, garnish it with a heated debate about the Israeli Palestinian and wola, I’m ready to drop my pants. In a world where everyone assumes multiple identities, it’s hard to find someone, anyone that I can identify with.
Okay I admit, I’m frustrated, but I have great reason, after what seemed like an eon of dating drought I have managed to meet three supposedly great men in the last two weeks! I sometimes catch myself grinning from ear to ear at the endless possibilities that this could lead too. Sadly, the excitement of it all is slowly dying and what lingers behind is plain disappointment.
The Bollywood actor that could potentially be a star seems entirely avoidable as he is obsessive and clingy. I don’t enjoy being called sweetie and honey by someone I have just met, let alone someone whose name I didn’t remember for the longest time. The investment banker is just plain bland and boring (maybe just the right thing I need at this point?) and then there is the cute, hot, dumb bar boy who I am currently obsessed with.
Cute, hot, bar boy is tall and handsome. He has lean arms that are just the right girth and a broad chest that I’m dying to see shirt less. He has an assortment of scars that embellish his body that makes him oh so alluring. He rides a motor cycle and lives exactly ten minutes away from me. Need I say more? I want to peel is clothes with my teeth. Cute bar boy also happens to be the dumbest man I have ever met, maybe. I have relentless flirted with him since the day we met and he just doesn’t seem to get the message. Subtlety is not my forte and apparently he doesn’t understand open advances either, the few times that I have seen him, which would be exactly twice to be precise, I have talked more with his friends than actually him. I could contemplate the possibility that just maybe he isn’t all that interested in me, the thought is honestly frightening, so I’ll leave contemplating the worse for later. Right now I just want to have him cornered alone and jump his bones, only if he would just call me!
My search for meaning has taken me far and wide, when I’m finally ready for a meaningful relationship, I’ll settle for the good Marathi IT engineer from Kolhapur that mom picks for me. Right now I’ll be perfectly happy with a nice romp in the sack with hot, dumb, bar boy which, of course I will regret later.
Goodbye...
Strange, conflicting, confusing dreams supplemented by the flood of erratic and unexpected emotions they bring leave me exhausted each morning. What do they mean? What is the significance of this bizarre sequence of past reality planted with fictional moments that plague me time and again? If dreams are meant to be a manifestation of ones hidden desire and unfulfilled wishes, then what does this haunting moment that plagues the recesses of my imagination time and again have to do with any sort of wish-fulfillment? It doesn’t make any sense, even though I desire it the most, logic, reasoning and reality dictates otherwise. I want to let it go, but it refuses to abandon me completely. It will be six years this August, a quarter away from a decade if my math is right. Yet it only seems like today, I close my eyes and get transported at another time and another place with much ease.
That ominous afternoon when I saw him last remains alive in my mind. Trivial details like the precise date and time blur into oblivion. I remember it was the monsoons, yet the sky was bright and clear. Perhaps the God’s took some mercy upon the great gloom that was descent into our life or mocked our great misery. I’m not really sure it was which. The dark cloud of impending death which haunted that room was in constant conflict with the bright sunshine that filtered in through every crevice there.
I slowly tip-toed into the room almost silent, except for the whirling thoughts in my head. He lay there perfectly still, the perfect embodiment of serenity that only death could bring, yet his bony chest heaved ever so slightly, showing the last signs of life still present in his frail, wasted body. He once took great pride in his appearance, toiling for hours upon hours at the gym, but no more. It was hard at first to see his once healthy, wholesome physique waste away in such a short span. But now the sight of his bony carcass was a predictable sight. A small smiled curled at the corner of his mouth as he lay so still, finally making peace with his demons, befriending his inevitable end and making death is closest ally. He laid still and silent undisturbed by the ruckus of the outside world. I stood still unwilling to wake him from his slumber, yet he somehow knew that I stood there, gazing at him for the last time. His eyelashes slowly fluttered open, he squinted at the bright rays that assaulted his vision as the merciless invaded the room, but he stood his ground. He gradually sat up; the monumental effort to conduct so simple a task visible was evident on his wrinkled face, the sweat on his brow witness to his endeavor.
I tried to be strong and unafraid; mortality wasn’t something that I had confronted before at such close quarters. My heart was being ripped into innumerable shreds with every passing second, I wanted to run away but I stood paralyzed, obscenely mesmerized at the sight of human decay before me.
I don’t exactly remember when the tears started, but I was vaguely aware of their presence as they stained my lips and cheeks, hot, wet and salty. I threw my arms around his brittle neck and wretched long, hard and loud for what seemed like an eternity.
He cried too slowly, softly, sadly, consoling me with great tenderness and compassion. I admired his strength and courage even in my maddened state of grief. Blessed are those who see the fallibility of human existence so closely and yet find in within themselves to truly see the infinite beauty in it and still love it unconditionally. He pried my arms loose and I let him reluctantly go, for the last time.
That ominous afternoon when I saw him last remains alive in my mind. Trivial details like the precise date and time blur into oblivion. I remember it was the monsoons, yet the sky was bright and clear. Perhaps the God’s took some mercy upon the great gloom that was descent into our life or mocked our great misery. I’m not really sure it was which. The dark cloud of impending death which haunted that room was in constant conflict with the bright sunshine that filtered in through every crevice there.
I slowly tip-toed into the room almost silent, except for the whirling thoughts in my head. He lay there perfectly still, the perfect embodiment of serenity that only death could bring, yet his bony chest heaved ever so slightly, showing the last signs of life still present in his frail, wasted body. He once took great pride in his appearance, toiling for hours upon hours at the gym, but no more. It was hard at first to see his once healthy, wholesome physique waste away in such a short span. But now the sight of his bony carcass was a predictable sight. A small smiled curled at the corner of his mouth as he lay so still, finally making peace with his demons, befriending his inevitable end and making death is closest ally. He laid still and silent undisturbed by the ruckus of the outside world. I stood still unwilling to wake him from his slumber, yet he somehow knew that I stood there, gazing at him for the last time. His eyelashes slowly fluttered open, he squinted at the bright rays that assaulted his vision as the merciless invaded the room, but he stood his ground. He gradually sat up; the monumental effort to conduct so simple a task visible was evident on his wrinkled face, the sweat on his brow witness to his endeavor.
I tried to be strong and unafraid; mortality wasn’t something that I had confronted before at such close quarters. My heart was being ripped into innumerable shreds with every passing second, I wanted to run away but I stood paralyzed, obscenely mesmerized at the sight of human decay before me.
I don’t exactly remember when the tears started, but I was vaguely aware of their presence as they stained my lips and cheeks, hot, wet and salty. I threw my arms around his brittle neck and wretched long, hard and loud for what seemed like an eternity.
He cried too slowly, softly, sadly, consoling me with great tenderness and compassion. I admired his strength and courage even in my maddened state of grief. Blessed are those who see the fallibility of human existence so closely and yet find in within themselves to truly see the infinite beauty in it and still love it unconditionally. He pried my arms loose and I let him reluctantly go, for the last time.
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