As someone who can be a complete idiot at the most inopportune moments, I often fail to recognize the signals that life throws my way. These random, arbitrary, subtle signs that lead to infinite wisdom and insight go past me unnoticed. Even when I do recognize danger, I stubbornly refuse to heed to caution and continue to do just as I please, even if it may not be for the best.
I have been on super crazy party mode. Every weekend is unfailingly spent drinking till the wee hours of the morning, whiling time away, with mostly good conversation and a never ending supply of vodka and cigarettes. In my own silly way, this is my rebellion against the so-called moral code of conduct set forth by Indian society, which does not let its women live a life of drunken debauchery. I often come home at the wee hours of the night; I stumble into the house, ignoring moms agitated curses at my blasphemous lifestyle and collapse upon my bed barely conscious of her anxiety and apprehension. In my own silly, stubborn way this is my desperate attempt to hang onto a life of complete freedom and isolation that I once had and had come to love. Sadly, I don’t really feel all that free or liberated, the evenings get repetitive and stale, the conversations have a vaguely familiar ring to them. Sometimes I don’t really feel all that eager to step out, preferring to spend time in the company of fictional characters in books and films, favoring them over real people. Instead of following my instinctive urges, I step out, in the company of strangers and friends, making small talk that requires effort, all the while, longing for my bed instead.
I had an incredibly busy, stressful, hectic week at work. The responsibilities piled on, one after the other, sometimes seeming to have no end. I tacked them head on, to the best of my ability and even managed to do a pretty decent job at finishing most of them. S, my boss, yelled at me all of like three times this week, a matter worth cheering about. I felt happy, mildly satisfied, and truly, utterly exhausted. Someone with a little sense would have rewarded her effort with some well-deserved rest and relaxation. Instead I stayed out till six in the morning, again. Sadly, neither was the evening all that fun nor exciting. It started and ended as predictably as I had guessed. I yawned time and again, secretly yearning for my bed and sighed inwardly, hoping no one noticed it. I have stopped paying too much attention to the way I dress anymore, it seems rather pointless, most of the men I meet are interested in everyone else but me. Short skirts, low cut dresses, sweet smelling perfumes, soft supple lips and smoky eyes have stopped affecting men in a way they once did. They remain oblivious to my womanly vials as I remain aware of their masculine allure. With every passing tick of the clock my exhaustion and impatience grew. I was too bored and tired to even attempt an interesting conversation, the mere thought of it utterly draining. I was lying on the couch with my feet turned up, vaguely paying attention to the several different conversations happening around me, when I turned to my friend M. A knowing look passed between us, as our eyes collectively swept the room.
“I’m going to be single for ever!” She exclaimed.
“ Want to grow old together?” I offered consolingly.
We smiled at each other both amused and saddened simultaneously. In a room full of men it is as if we didn’t actually exist. Well, at least not as an alluring specimen of the opposite sex kind of way. We were just one of the boys, someone they saw way too often to ever consider appealing in a non-platonic sense.
“Water, water every where, not a drop to drink.” I whispered sadly and went back to my bottle of “Aquafina Pure Mineral Water” that I have been nursing all night. M nodded in acknowledgement and took another large swig of her wine.
I developed a very sore throat the next day. My body burnt with a raging fever and my head throbbed with an endless pain. I lack the strength to conduct the simplest of physical activities and I feel like shit. I wish I hadn’t sacrificed a good nights sleep for another night of hedonistic activity.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Bombay Fantasies
So much to do and so little time, this has always been my trouble with life. I invent these grandiose plans to attain artistic satisfaction, sometimes almost brag about it, but at the end of the day, what is left is nothing more than a head full of amusing ideas and observations and nothing concrete to really show for them.
Take this blog for example, after the sincere attempt to keep writing and trudging along in my half-hearted literary pursuits, it is only now, some three odd weeks later, that I find the time to actually update it. I do exaggerate when I say that I lack the time, what I however not jest about is the serious lack of energy to anything remotely constructive on the personal gratification and growth front. I guess this would make me machosistic, purposely causing myself pain, for squandering such great potential, or so I convince myself to believe!
I am inherently lazy, a dreamer, an observer, a writer who doesn’t indulge in her passion often enough, but sure spins grandiose dreams around it. At the end of the day I am absolutely uninspired to get to the computer and write. The sad fact is that none of this is due to lack of ideas or inspiration, they thrive aplenty. It is my stubborn refusal to ultimately push myself beyond the extent of regular necessity, is what will bring my ultimate downfall.
Bombay, the city of dying hopes, fading dreams and aspirations, a city rich with its multitude of characters that make life amusing and interesting. These characters stand as rich sources of literary inspiration for the men and women in my stories. I observe their every day lives, their outwardly visible joys and sorrows, their quirk and idiosyncrasies. These humane qualities of people around me get emulated by the characters in my stories, fumbling around life like everone else. Maybe one of the biggest reasons I like writing so much is because I get to play the God of my universe. My characters and their lives sprout from the recesses of my imagination, the courses of their destiny at my command. Perhaps, I’m sick of living life on someone else’s terms, being bitterly disappointed every step along the way. My stories and my writing liberate me from my own bitterness and disappointment, even if it is for a short while. Now I can channel it into the lives of my characters, deriving a sadistic pleasure from their sadness,disappointment and dejection, confirming my belief that hapiness and contentment are merely illusions.
Perhaps, one of the biggest reasons why my work ends up being so melancholy is because I have spent a huge portion of my adult life is such utter loneliness and isolation. The bitter realization that in spite of everything and everyone, at the end of the day, I feel a terrible sense of loss and emptiness that never really goes away. It is ironic that after moving to Bombay this has gotten worse, what is more ironic is that I have never had these many friends in my life to date. Every night can be an occasion of celebration if I choose to make it so. There is no shortage of people to call if I wish to drink myself to oblivion, to distract myself from my self imposed bitterness. Each of us masking our pain under an envelope of false cheer and goodness, I feel exhausted at the end if it all, unable to cope with my own insincerity, yet too exhausted and dejected to infuse my fledgling energy into letting anyone in.
I sometimes enjoy narrating to the world my Mumbai fantasies. Wild dreams sexual escapades with cab-drivers, vegetable vendors and mailmen. It is the Indian equivalent of a badly produced American porno with the hot pizza guy or the sexy copy repair guy. In a vaguely American context the idea almost works, but in a society, which is so class conscious, a young educated woman having a wild fantasy about someone in a much lower socio-economic bracket is blasphemy. This strange world that we live in, does not even allow us the small liberty to dream outside the confines of our tax bracket. To dream big is to be ambitious, but to dream of having a good time with someone who may not come from the same world is just plain lowering ones standards.
What does this city have to offer any way other than rich fodder to my already fertile imagination? Where is the time, place or the energy to establish meaningful relationships with someone one new? Where are the people to establish these relationships with? At the end of the day, I lack the motivation to make any attempt to appeal to those around me. It feels false and stupid. I’m not interesting or fabulous enough to have people fawn all over me for who I am. Honestly, there are so many better looking women out there. I am neither terribly interesting, nor do I possess a sparkling sense of humor. I look about average and I maybe almost fat. With mediocrity being the bane of my existence, the chance of meeting someone truly wonderful who stands for the text book definition of a great catch is bleak. What then is so damn wrong to draw a small amount of thrill and excitement from a fantasy that will never materialize but makes life a little interesting?
Last week was both fun and humiliating. The humiliation set in after the fun ended. My stubborn refusal to initiate any romantic connection with someone new, who might actually like me back, lead me again to a place that I promised myself I would never go to. It ended badly the first time, I was sad and hurt. I swallowed my pride and pain convincing myself time and again that his friendship was more important than my silly little crush and a few stolen kisses. It would be unwise to throw away years of trust and companionship over unrequited love that would eventually fade away. I have always cared about him with a burning fervor that time cannot extinguish, more than he will ever know, more than what he will ever feel for me. I doused the flames of my passion in the name of friendship, but the embers blazed on unknowingly.
He has always been incredibly cruel. Sometimes I truly resent him for it. Time and again he tortures me with the cruel knowledge of all the women that he has possessed, knowing fully well that I hate to hear about it. I have learned to expect very little from people, least of all from him, yet he torments me with his kisses, awakening my desire just one more time, making me wishfully wonder the possibility of what if…
Sometimes, I’m almost convinced that I’m capable of having an adult sexual relationship with my best friend without the messiness of all the feelings get in the way. After all, as a sensible adult with no time for love what else could possibly be better? I’m okay with the once inherited knowledge that he shall never ever feel the same way about me; But to reminded of it time and again is cruelty and humiliation at its best. Accepting the truth life has been disappointing has never been hard, but to hear it reverberated time and again is something that I’m not yet fully capable of.
Take this blog for example, after the sincere attempt to keep writing and trudging along in my half-hearted literary pursuits, it is only now, some three odd weeks later, that I find the time to actually update it. I do exaggerate when I say that I lack the time, what I however not jest about is the serious lack of energy to anything remotely constructive on the personal gratification and growth front. I guess this would make me machosistic, purposely causing myself pain, for squandering such great potential, or so I convince myself to believe!
I am inherently lazy, a dreamer, an observer, a writer who doesn’t indulge in her passion often enough, but sure spins grandiose dreams around it. At the end of the day I am absolutely uninspired to get to the computer and write. The sad fact is that none of this is due to lack of ideas or inspiration, they thrive aplenty. It is my stubborn refusal to ultimately push myself beyond the extent of regular necessity, is what will bring my ultimate downfall.
Bombay, the city of dying hopes, fading dreams and aspirations, a city rich with its multitude of characters that make life amusing and interesting. These characters stand as rich sources of literary inspiration for the men and women in my stories. I observe their every day lives, their outwardly visible joys and sorrows, their quirk and idiosyncrasies. These humane qualities of people around me get emulated by the characters in my stories, fumbling around life like everone else. Maybe one of the biggest reasons I like writing so much is because I get to play the God of my universe. My characters and their lives sprout from the recesses of my imagination, the courses of their destiny at my command. Perhaps, I’m sick of living life on someone else’s terms, being bitterly disappointed every step along the way. My stories and my writing liberate me from my own bitterness and disappointment, even if it is for a short while. Now I can channel it into the lives of my characters, deriving a sadistic pleasure from their sadness,disappointment and dejection, confirming my belief that hapiness and contentment are merely illusions.
Perhaps, one of the biggest reasons why my work ends up being so melancholy is because I have spent a huge portion of my adult life is such utter loneliness and isolation. The bitter realization that in spite of everything and everyone, at the end of the day, I feel a terrible sense of loss and emptiness that never really goes away. It is ironic that after moving to Bombay this has gotten worse, what is more ironic is that I have never had these many friends in my life to date. Every night can be an occasion of celebration if I choose to make it so. There is no shortage of people to call if I wish to drink myself to oblivion, to distract myself from my self imposed bitterness. Each of us masking our pain under an envelope of false cheer and goodness, I feel exhausted at the end if it all, unable to cope with my own insincerity, yet too exhausted and dejected to infuse my fledgling energy into letting anyone in.
I sometimes enjoy narrating to the world my Mumbai fantasies. Wild dreams sexual escapades with cab-drivers, vegetable vendors and mailmen. It is the Indian equivalent of a badly produced American porno with the hot pizza guy or the sexy copy repair guy. In a vaguely American context the idea almost works, but in a society, which is so class conscious, a young educated woman having a wild fantasy about someone in a much lower socio-economic bracket is blasphemy. This strange world that we live in, does not even allow us the small liberty to dream outside the confines of our tax bracket. To dream big is to be ambitious, but to dream of having a good time with someone who may not come from the same world is just plain lowering ones standards.
What does this city have to offer any way other than rich fodder to my already fertile imagination? Where is the time, place or the energy to establish meaningful relationships with someone one new? Where are the people to establish these relationships with? At the end of the day, I lack the motivation to make any attempt to appeal to those around me. It feels false and stupid. I’m not interesting or fabulous enough to have people fawn all over me for who I am. Honestly, there are so many better looking women out there. I am neither terribly interesting, nor do I possess a sparkling sense of humor. I look about average and I maybe almost fat. With mediocrity being the bane of my existence, the chance of meeting someone truly wonderful who stands for the text book definition of a great catch is bleak. What then is so damn wrong to draw a small amount of thrill and excitement from a fantasy that will never materialize but makes life a little interesting?
Last week was both fun and humiliating. The humiliation set in after the fun ended. My stubborn refusal to initiate any romantic connection with someone new, who might actually like me back, lead me again to a place that I promised myself I would never go to. It ended badly the first time, I was sad and hurt. I swallowed my pride and pain convincing myself time and again that his friendship was more important than my silly little crush and a few stolen kisses. It would be unwise to throw away years of trust and companionship over unrequited love that would eventually fade away. I have always cared about him with a burning fervor that time cannot extinguish, more than he will ever know, more than what he will ever feel for me. I doused the flames of my passion in the name of friendship, but the embers blazed on unknowingly.
He has always been incredibly cruel. Sometimes I truly resent him for it. Time and again he tortures me with the cruel knowledge of all the women that he has possessed, knowing fully well that I hate to hear about it. I have learned to expect very little from people, least of all from him, yet he torments me with his kisses, awakening my desire just one more time, making me wishfully wonder the possibility of what if…
Sometimes, I’m almost convinced that I’m capable of having an adult sexual relationship with my best friend without the messiness of all the feelings get in the way. After all, as a sensible adult with no time for love what else could possibly be better? I’m okay with the once inherited knowledge that he shall never ever feel the same way about me; But to reminded of it time and again is cruelty and humiliation at its best. Accepting the truth life has been disappointing has never been hard, but to hear it reverberated time and again is something that I’m not yet fully capable of.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
A little bit of me
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
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
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.
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