On mundane happenings

Nothing really has been happening in my life. Except that my tummy has been relapsing to its sick self now and then. I was laid up for a while. But after three days I got up, put on my jeans and tee and my sneakers, walked into the doctor’s clinic and told her that I would not leave without a name for my condition and some medicines to combat it. I cannot have khichdi day in and day out and lie on my bed clutching my tummy and thinking about how I can’t have simple toast and omelet anymore.

So, after a long time, my determined voice came alive and voila! It worked. I have a name and I have the medicines. So now for the last couple of days I have been popping pills and eating everything. And drinking everything too. Which, ahem, includes things like tequila shots. Double ahem. And I wonder, why the medicines fail to work sometimes. *Sigh*

Saturday I went to this wonderful place called @live in CP (Delhi). If you are in Delhi and like live music you must go there. If you are from Calcutta and live in Delhi and miss Someplace Else to no end (like me) then you REALLY must go there. The band is good. They play live every night. Their food is good and decently priced. And of course, they have drinks of all kinds. But be careful, or else you might end up paying an exorbitant bill like R and I did on Saturday night. After which, of course, the happiness that came with consumption of all those shots vanished in thin air. Also, you absolutely must make reservations, especially if you are going there on the weekend. They don’t allow people to stand inside, which, I think, is an excellent policy, so it is important that you reach on time  (they take and hold reservations till 9pm) and get your table.

And this is for a certain someone whom we met after a while this weekend. Try it out. It might look good.

And M, thanks for the email girl. It made me sit up and write this out.

And to you, my blog. I have missed you much. I promise not to be away for such long times.

So long folks! I’ll write soon and there is so much reading to do on your blog and yours! Yay. Exciting Monday ahead I see.

On being out of love and facing it.

Is it possible to walk out of a relationship after eight years? After the families have had almost five years to fall into their comfort zone, after you have shared your finances, worked out bank accounts together, have had mutual friends who have hooked up and gotten married, attended those marriages together, known each others’ email passwords, have fought and broken up a million times? Can you still walk away? How do you heal yourself after you have convinced yourself after every fight that it is your fault that he said those mean things to you? What do you tell your ailing grandmother when she tells you lying on the hospital bed that she will pull through till your wedding at the end of this year? How do you not smile when everyone around you is discussing venues, flowers, invitations and wedding trousseaus?

Can you really let it go?

How do you tell anyone that you have fallen out of love. That there is “no one else”. That you have just fallen out of love. That after eight years you are not ready to be married.

I think its possible to walk out. It is possible to just walk away and not turn back. It is possible to pick up every broken piece in yourself and put it all back together so that you can stand up tall again. It is never too much to want to marry for love. Not the starry eyed, magical love. But the comfort love that magically brings warmth to your eyes and bliss to your smile.

I know, in my heart of hearts, that it is possible. But tell me how do you do it? Where do you start?

On loss

A friend of mine lost her father a couple of weeks back. I wanted to write to her.  Reach out to her. I wanted to speak to her. I wanted to do something, anything to help. I wanted to see her and hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay.

But I couldn’t. I could not do any of the above. I wrote to her after several days because I did not what to say. I still don’t have the courage to speak with her. I have not been able to help in any way. And even though I have sent her my condolences I know that nothing is actually okay.

I don’t know how it feels to lose someone you love. I am scared to let go of every single person whom I hold close to my heart. How would it feel if I step into their house and don’t see them anymore? Their cell phone number won’t exist anymore. Their email id would be invalid. I won’t hear their cheerful voice when I call them. How would I reach out? They won’t laugh at my jokes, not reprimand me for what I have done.  How would it be living everyday knowing that they are just not there anymore?

I have a lump in my throat and my eyes are stinging. And I know this doesn’t make any sense. I just have a lot of prayers for her and her family. I hope God gives them strength to get through this. I hope they do okay.

And I feel so helpless. Cannot explain how much.

On writers’ block

Writers’ block is one tough thing to deal with. You know you want to write, there are a zillion thoughts running through your mind but you just don’t get the words to put them down. Damn! All who write will know immediately what I mean.

And of course, needless to say I have an immense block at the moment. I am trying to deal with it by reading and thinking of all the wonderful things that could be written about, all the issues that can be addressed and the like. It’s not helping me at all. I have no clue what would.

Suggestions are welcome. I hope to get out of this block thing soon.

Aaargh!!! Frustrating, I tell you.

For you. For us.

I was held back. But I stretched my arms and reached out to the sky.

It was dark outside but I saw some stars when no one else was looking.

I was dragged in to hell and back but I survived the hard route.

I was cheated, abused, battered and bruised but I never lost my faith in love.

I was asked to loose my identity but I chose to put my foot down and keep myself.

I was bent in every way but I never broke in the storm.

I think. I reflect. I speak. “Therefore, I am”. And I always will be.

Picture courtesy: www.hreoc.gov.au

On a very thoughtful night

One of my older posts. This thought had made me so restless that I did not get any sleep. Here goes.

It is a rather restless night. I have been tossing and turning on my bed as a million thoughts race through my mind and leave a lump in my throat.
I think about my mother. Strangely I also think of a life without her. It saddens me. Scares me to imagine that one day she won’t be there. One day she wouldn’t pick up the phone. She won’t spend 35 minutes engaged in a monologue describing accurately every hour of her day. Or sharing all her thoughts. The trivial details of her school. How there has been a small theft. Or how everyone got together and shared prawns and rice for lunch. Some teachers had refused to pay but in the end “they all agree, you know. They paid Rs. 10 each”. She wouldn’t tell me how well the girls are doing. How a girl has been winning debates even in the state level, a first time in the history of the school. How someone has participated in a national level bharatnatyam workshop. Again, a first.
I would miss her telling me what she has cooked and how everything has become so expensive. And why she cannot take cabs anymore. How Baba spoke to her today, how disappointed she has been with her life and how happy she is with me.
She wouldn’t tell me how bothered she is with the American economy and that it is very important for us to go back home….or to “Singapore, you can come home every weekend then. No?”. She wouldn’t share her anxiety over the bugs in my NY apartment, neither the leaking roof would bother her.
She wouldn’t urge me everyday to do my PhD. She wouldn’t keep my spirits high by giving me new recipes to try everyday.
Strangely, we both know the inevitable and accept it with a matured calmness. She has faith in me. As I have always had in her. It has helped both of us to have faith in ourselves.
Yes, one day she wouldn’t be there. And that’s why I spend more than half an hour listening to her voice. So that when the narration stops, the story would always remain. Safe and warm.