I make up these scenarios in my head and live in denial. All these stories that I conjure which might never happen. At least I don't think about you. I try not to. I want to write this long post about you, how you make me feel and all of that and how I do wanna meet you again and again in a good way. How I do wanna go away but want you to be a part of the happiness in my life. Not the part where I pine for you like I have pined the last couple of months. Not the part where you vanish for days altogether. Some days I am like am I a fool or not?  How could I ever fall for that! Mum says I am sensitive yet very strong and resilient. Maybe I am all of that but I didn't ask for this. We never do. Do we ask to set our hearts on emotionally unavailable people? How do I do this to myself time and time again?

I don't want to write about how much I'd want you to figure this out and come around. It is futile. I don't even look for signs anymore. I stopped looking for them years back. Signs can be so misleading. I keep listening to some songs again and again but I also know life isn't a movie no? I wish it was, I wish you woke up one fine day with this unbearable empty feeling inside of you realising I am the one who you are missing and rush back to India looking for me, looking for an answer. But how many times have I wanted people in my past to do that and how many actually did? Only R maybe and look how it ended. I hurt him sooooooooo badly. I did not mean to but I did. I read my old blog posts and realise how I never meant to be the bitch I ultimately was or the coward I looked like at the end. I gave up but only cause I did, he met this fabulous, gorgeus, lovely girl and they lead such a happy life. I wasn't lucky for him.

I imagine S and I. The way we use to be and then I imagine S falling in love with me. How badly I wanted it then. The only person who filled me up to the brim without touching me was S. That is my idea of love. Rest it has been only emotional neediness. Too many stories, too many people come and gone. I am tired. I am tired of asking the Universe for the right kind of romantic love. Just look at my blog posts. I look like an emotional idiot. I keep asking, wanting, pining. Nothing changes as such. I meet strange, stranger, strangest people. All these emotionally unavailable charming people. On bad days I pray to Dad to send the right man into my life fast. I wonder if Dad listens. Sigh! Goodbye A. I wish so many things but it is pointless writing it down or putting it in words. Have a good life. I refuse to be sentimental and say anything. 

My love list

My love list 1. A sense of humour. 2. Financially stable. 3. Honesty 4. Loyalty 5. Self-made 6. Respect for me and my family 7. Gives me my freedom 8. Trust worthy 9. Loves music, loves to dance 10. Loves to read 11. Loves travelling 12. Loves to exercise 13. Trusts me 14. Independent 15. Sexy Not necessarily in this order. ;) Hope whosoever he is he finds me and we can live our dreams together. __________________________________________________

This could be the end of everything

Will it always be like this? I’ll be hung up on some emotionally unavailable man who’ll want me but only in shifts and I’ll have a bunch of dreams I’ll want to come true and this life I wanna live a particular way . There’ll be marriage knocking on my door in the form of some man who doesn’t interest me. Then there’ll be Mum always eager for me to finally settle down, like literally settle down for something and not be sooooo persistent with living this gypsy life that I live. For the first time in a long long time I found something I love to do. Is it wrong to want to make a life out of this? I know how happy it made me, every word I read of it, every class I attended, every lecture I heard, every answer I gave in class, every inch of it. I love, love this and I want this with a passion I never thought I would. I never thought at 30 I’d fall in love with something I thought I lost at 18. It made everything in Singapore worth it. It didn’t matter that I had to share a room with someone after 7 years, that I lived in the library all day just so I didn’t cross paths with my roommate, that day after day I shared the loo with 10 people, that I hated this city with all my heart, I never thought I could hate a place as much as I hated SG and how all of that changed and only because of my classes and some new people I met. I can’t believe I’ll be leaving all of this for a corporate job. Nooooooooooooooo. I want to do this. Hell I wanna work in the UN and hell I have to find a way to get in and hell I will. What do I say about this man I am smitten with? That I’ll probably never meet him again. That my last evening with him was magical. That if my life was a movie that evening would be the most romantic bit, the part where she realises there is more to this, the part where something stirs in him but she isn’t sure. That I’ll just let him, let me go away and I’ll never breathe a word. That this man is flawed but I still wanna be with him. That he makes me laugh. That he pokes and probes and reveals and leaves me feeling empty and wanting more.

I'll never forget last evening. And I am gonna walk away again cos you are walking away. I am not meant to show emotion. You are allowed to. I am not. I am only meant to meet one emotionally unavailable man after the other, who let me walk away time and time again. Then I am asked why do I settle for evenings of passion. The answer is the ones I like only ever wanna give me evenings of passion and not lifetimes of togetherness. Even if I had the most fabulous evening in years with someone who makes me laugh, makes me feel wanted when I am with him, I am supposed to walk away without saying a word. That is exactly what I am gonna do. Three weeks and I am gone. You'll never ever ever hear from me again. No you won't. You know where to find me. But you are not gonna hear from me again ever ever.

Either make me immune to this emptiness. Just make me immune please. I cannot make peace with being alone every single day of my life, I cannot. I try to but I can't. I cannot make myself happy every day. I hateeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee being single, just hate it. And nooooo I am not gonna settle down for some Tom, Dick and Harry. Take these needs away. I'll be fine. I'll be able to find the positive and blessings in my life again. This is not who I am. I am not soooooo needy emotionally. Why, why, why? Why give me these needs and then not satisfy them? You like to see me pining for something I can't get forever and ever. Seriously! I am sooooooooooooooooooooooo tired of wanting someone I want to want me with his whole mind, body and soul. Nobody comes, no one. You only watch me wither away bit by bit, day by day. And if I ended my life then? You won't get that satisfaction to watch me fight and fail everyday. I thought after Dad passed away someone I'd find love cause I of all the people deserved it. But you never thought so. Not even once you thought I did. The whole world does but not me. You just wanted me to meet one emotionally unavailable man after the other. You won. I'll keep fighting this battle and you can keep watching me being miserable everyday. Thank you God. I feel wonderful and complete. Thank you sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much.

I sat on the park bench today and cried my heart aloud. I was being a baby. You don't sit on park benches in foreign countries and cry out aloud unless you wanna look like a fool. I felt like one. I felt down, low, disillusioned. I am tired of finding happiness inside of me time and time again. I am tired of being my own knight in shining armour. It isn't easy. I know I can be alone and happy and independent but now it is tiring me. I wanna lean on someone. I am tired of doing this entire jiggy alone. On bad days or rather when some bad news disturbs me, I sometimes crave for a hug or to be just held and to be told it'll be alright. I know I'll have to continue this show alone cos tears are not the answer to anything. Crying it out doesn't help. The tears stop, you get up, wipe them off and walk on. It helps when after all your howling on that park bench you get a text from a friend saying "coffee and icecream"? You can't believe your luck. You text them back so relieved that atleast someone heard your crying prayers. I remember this Richard Bach quote I read when I was younger and some part of me took it too seriously. Arghhhhh! "We wait all these years to find someone who understands us, I thought, someone who accepts us as we are, someone with a wizard's power to melt stone to sunlight, who can bring us happiness in spite of trials, who can face our dragons in the night, who can transform us into the soul we choose to be. Just yesterday I found that magical someone is the face we see in the mirror: It's us and our homemade masks .All these years and at last we met. Imagine that...." I know I am strong, I know somedays I feel like magic, I am funny, I am smart, I am quirky and all of this and that. I can be rock solid,I can be ridiculously stupid, silly, I can make a complete fool of myself, I can be a moron, I can be quite the brazen hussy, I can be the Queen Of Self Pity, I can be an embarassment, I can hate myself, I can be a love sick heartbroken looney for years, I can be this pining, needy, clingy girl, I need self assurance every now and then, I can hit rock bottom, I can shock you, I can be the bestest friend to some of my friends, I can be quite the bitch,I can be lost in the dark, I won't recognise myself then, I'll hate myself, I can get out of all of that self hate and self loathe and find myself again, I can manage to metamorphose into this woman I am today, this woman I knew I could be, wanted to be, but somehow hadn't had the courage to be, this woman I am growing to love. I love myself on most days these days. I love my curves, I love my big butt, my big bust, I never thought I would. I made peace with my scanty hair, I love the brown colour of whatever hair that is left, the fact that it looks brown in the sun. I found something I love to do. Is that the reason? I don't know if I can manage to do that for the rest of my life though. I wish and pray I can do this forever, earn a decent living through this. I never ever thought I would find this "me" again. I lost this me for 12 whole years. I wish I found love though. I stopped looking for it as much as I did my entire twenties. The kinds that'll fill my emptiness and take this ache away. I don't need to find myself through him. I just need him to walk by my side. I already found myself, I did. And I did all of that all by myself. But now I need a partner, I so do. I don't want crumbs God.

I shall live. I shall live.

When I was 23 a friend set me up with her bookish cousin who in hind sight was a sweet boy. He was a book worm, majorly into sci-fi books and animated series and flicks. I would actually wake up at 6:30 AM every day and sit yawning in front of the TV to catch the latest episode of the cartoon series just so we could talk about it. Some days he would wake me up through consecutive missed calls ensuring I didn’t miss the episode. Those were the days of the missed calls. Missed calls meant call me back right now cause I don’t have balance or it meant call me back later cause Mum won’t let me use her phone and she gets an itemised bill that shall give her all the gory details about me at the end of month and she’ll get to know exactly which boy I have been romancing over the phone, at the most unearthly hours. I digress. So the boy took me out a couple of times and we went trapezing on his bike around the entire city, went for walks on the beach, had ice creams and one day he got me a soft toy. It was a dog and I named it Jumble. I was young, just out of college, waiting to begin my first job and despite thinking I was mature beyond my years I actually loved that soft, fuzzy toy. Jumble got lost somewhere along way, shifting cities and jobs, time and time again. The boy and I parted as we began, as friends. Boys and men have come and gone. We meet and we part. Like someone said men come and go and they indeed do. Now that I shall be 30 in about 7 months, people also tell me that it won’t always be like this. There’ll come a time when age would have played havoc with your looks and men won’t find you attractive anymore. In short they are warning me against the perils of being the possible old maid or spinster. I laugh and ask them what makes them think that I have always had constant stream of admirers throughout my twenties and not that I surround myself with men who fancy me and have never done so. I don’t flatter myself about the men in my life. Of course I do like the periodic bouts of incessant attention but there has never been any guarantee of uninterrupted attention and no stable relationship and it has all been so transitory. So yeah for now I am gonna hope something good does come along someday and if and when it doesn’t come, well I have my work, my life. That is one thing I have had, I have and I shall have. And I shall live. I shall live.

We live in a world of glorious uncertainties where the scales keep tipping from one end to the other. Nothing is guaranteed, not success, not love, not money and health the least of all. Nothing at all. We live one moment at a time, one day at a time. We tiptoe into the next day rather cautiously most times and happily those rare times. When something that might be joyous reveals itself slowly, bit by bit, one step at a time I have to pinch myself to make myself believe that this might be true or am I imagining this? No you don’t know who you are but surprisingly you make me smile. I shall leave it at that.

For starters I realised last evening, after two consecutive allergy stricken weekends that anti histamines do not make me sleepy. They just don’t. I can gulp down the strongest allegra and be just as alive and kicking as I was without a hint of sleep or drowsiness clouding my thoughts. I have wanted to write but guess I am going through a bloggers block. Does that term exist at all? I am guessing it does. On one hand I had this imaginary post in my head last night but I just knew that by the time I had battled the sultry heat and humidity in the morning and managed to reach office way before the mandatory in time the words won’t be spouting off me. So here you go. They just aren’t. I have travelled a little bit the last one month. Spent the laziest three days in my Aunt’s gorgeous house in Chennai doing nothing but catching up on my sleep and hanging around with old friends. I had such a great time hanging out at Zara after years and drinking glass after glass of Sangria and chatting and talking about everything under the sun. How tired I am of Calcutta already and how I miss hanging out with warm, friendly people. Sigh! They were three days so well spent. There was also this exceptionally uninteresting weekend spent in Shillong quite by myself. After doing the usual touristy stuff I was cooped in my resort watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. I couldn’t even walk around that hotel property cos the Prince of Tripura who owns the darned place lets open his dogs at the most inappropriate times of the day. Anytime I’d put on my walking shoes and wanna head out the Security would scare the living daylights out of me with gory descriptions of those canines. Eeeyeeeeww impulsive travel plans don’t always work out. Lesson learnt. I am not living in my imaginary what if world all of a sudden. All of August all I wanted to do was to run away someplace far far away but come September and I am living in today. I need to remind myself of that what if world to try and get there or else I’ll get caught in the humdrum of everyday life and give up on getting out of this place. Sometimes I can’t hardly wait for things to change then of course you come across welcome distractions and you ask yourself come on not now when it was all sorted out in the head. All I want is to get out, run away and then I still want to run away just as much but only if I could fit in the beautiful distraction in the plan to. If only it was this simple. What fun it would be planning our different lives out and living some of our dreams knowing you’ll be right there walking by my side or waiting for me at some point or the other when our paths would merge.

And despite all the cynicism, the bitterness, the countless disappointments, unreturned phone calls, stupid impulsive trips made to different parts of the country that amounted to nothing but foolhardiness, one fine day at the neighbourhood coffee shop you come face to face with what life could possibly be or so you think. What do you then if that bit of yourself you discovered that day is going away? You let it go away because now you are all realistic and you distrust lovely dreamy strangers with long hair and guitar playing abilities. The you that grew up on an over the top dosage of romantic comedies died sometime back and got a fitting funeral too. It died time and time again until there was nothing but charred bits of your heart left. You blew those ashes away into the sea that February evening while walking down Bandstand. You believed that was the end of the romantic in you and life will be carefully distributed in different boxes of perfect shapes. You’ll know which emotion to put into which box for safekeeping. What you didn’t expect was to deal with a deluge of emotions all of a sudden one balmy monsoon evening? Now you can’t seem to find a box to put all these newly found desires in. No you can’t cos this doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere yet its brimming with possible happiness. Are you gonna walk away and let this be knowing there was someone with whom you perfectly fitted right in with? Maybe some stories are best left without trying to pre-empt an ending. Maybe happiness is also in spending a lifetime with the wrong person and knowing there was someone just right for you. Maybe happiness is just making peace with what life is serving you on a platter.

The History of 'I'

I am not about the men who chose not to be with me. I am not about the loneliness that threatens to engulf me every now and then. I am not about my nightmares that petrify me in my weakest moments. I am not about the hideous thoughts inside my head that don’t always wish other people well. I am not about those 12 glasses of mojitos that overpowered my senses that evening. I am not about that therapist I visited one summer afternoon so unsure of everything I was. I am not about my old failures that kept me from following my dreams. I am not about the job I hated, loved and lost all at the same time. I am not, definitely not about my stammering speech anymore. I never was just about all of this. I am so often about cheerfulness and glee. I am about mindless humour and laughter till your sides split. I am about picking and choosing my own battles and only those that are worth fighting for. I am also about newly discovered irrational anger that I am learning to tame. I am about following my oldest dreams a tad bit late. I am about the phoenix tattooed on the back of my shoulder that rises from the ashes. I am about wearing the bright, brighter, brightest colours when I am at my lowest. I am about red, gold, electric blue, shocking purple, neon green and the effervescent fuchsia. I am about running every day till my feet ache and my lungs are gasping for breath. I am about giving advice on life and love which is mostly spot-on and legal advice that is not always fool proof. I am the peace, the calm inside your head and your strength. I am the one you belong to. There are times when I am nothing yet I am everything.

The other day at night I dreamt of Baba. I dreamt he died all over again from all that pain. In my dream itself I tried to rationalise the feeling by telling myself it is alright. He cannot suffer all over again. It shall be exactly three years next week from the day he died. It seems years ago but it didn’t happen so far back. Sometimes I remember that day so clearly, I remember every feeling I underwent, the fact that I was probably on the phone with Shivi at that exact moment when he passed away. I remember living in denial for months and how I convinced myself life was going to go on just fine without him. It didn’t go on just fine. It went on definitely but no I miss the man every single day. I miss him when S talks about chilling with her Dad over drinks and dinner and having fun, I miss him when T exclaims how her Dad is so kind and would give her the world. I often wonder how we deal with grief. How we have to, so have to put on this brave face in front of the world and and how people always empathise with you or say you are so strong. I have heard that I am so strong statements or how magnificently I am doing statements so many times after Dad’s death. I wasn’t even doing that well, hell I went through such strange phases in my head and the cracks appeared so much later. How that insecurity of him not being around manifested in ways that I am not too proud of. Yes I realise grieving and healing is a long process. You don’t get up one day in the morning and it is gone like whoooshhhh. Naaaa it is long and tiresome. For some people it is an intense period and for some like me it took time to even for me to realise that he wasn’t around. Death has this debilitating effect. It can make zombies out of us. Besides sometimes you are expected to justify every single emotion you go through and the world only likes happy, sane people in control of every emotion, every action. Besides nobody likes sad people. I don’t and nor would you. I think I did a such bad job with my love life last three years or so. Some of the men I have been with in the past actually give me the creeps now that I look back. Why would I even give them a shot? I was running behind that elusive fantasy of happily ever after. The only predominant male figure of my life had ceased to exist. I tried to see bits of him in all these men and my God they were as farther away from him as they could be. I think I turned promiscuous for some time. I tried too many of these men. I was wrong about most of them. This realisation has crept in very very slowly. Must’ve been after my engagement broke up. That one month after my engagement I actually introspected only to jump into some needless emotional relationship all over again to realise once more this was a sham. I was wrong but this time I did not bend backwards, this time I did not beg or plead. I let go silently. Slowly and steadily I have realised that being in love and being in something which is excessively emotionally dependent is different. Love for me shouldn’t be this constantly craving feeling, it should be something which is just there, silent, stoic but there. Yes that is the love I am in search for. That “just there” and “it is understood” feeling.

My Wish List

1) Pursue that Master’s Degree in University of Melbourne on a scholarship. 2) Go to Europe with Ma and Bonu. 3) Have a big bank balance, more savings, more investments. 4) Marry Rajat and live with him happily ever after.

I can’t be Carrie and even if I do want you to be my Mr. Big it shall never be so. I know now that in some inexplicable way I keep coming back to you. These patterns are so disturbing and this not wanting to move on and yet moving on is very unlike me. I always believed in clean cut breaks when I throw a huge tantrum asking the most cliché questions like do you want this or not or my way or the high way, there is drama bordering melodrama and then there is silence and then the agony of waiting and finally I give in and beg and cry again and then there is denial and wooossshhh one fine day after months of denial there is the moving on. No questions happened this time, there was no drama, I didn’t even shed a tear until a week after we said our goodbyes but I do feel empty without you and that void, damn it that void nobody fills up. Phone calls initially seemed too impersonal and left me feeling even more hollow because we had so much and suddenly it was reduced to just these vacant conversations. Slowly I found my contentment in these daily 5 minute phone calls but now even these shall cease to exist. God I wish this was different. I wish you could be there by my side the way I want you to be. I wish my wishes didn't feel this futile.

Am I asking for too much or am I asking for the world.

I have nothing much to say. Most days I am flooded with work and the rare days that I am not I am bored to death. Like there is only so much I can talk to the people around me in office. But then I made peace with this a while back until I actually met a couple of almost like minded people or maybe I just thought that I did. Whatever that was it suited my desire for friendship or companionship for a year and a half and how? Now that all of that is gone there is this big empty void and to tell you the truth when I am the busiest I even forget someone existed when suddenly something or anything will remind me of him but it is never ever that depressing, down in the pits, by no means ending darkness feeling. It is just that okay so that was it and maybe we will never meet again and it is so hard to believe that feeling.
I dream a lot and sometimes I give myself the luxury of thinking of an us but I also know it won’t happen. Then I don’t dream of him. I dream of sunny beaches, clear blue skies, orange sunsets, new friendly faces, a library with lots of books, my could be future cubby hole cum study cum bedroom, a bicycle maybe that I’ll ride around in the campus, the phone calls to Ma, seminars and interactions with funky people from the industry, papers to write and that minor thesis I will submit and then I dream of graduation and possibly that tiny tiny chance that I might land up with a job there and my own teeny meeny studio apartment, working hard, paying off that loan, then visits by Ma and we are happy just travelling around, I am happy so she is happy and once in a million I think off meeting someone new. Sigh! Am I asking for too much or am I asking for the world.

They say I should write more often. Why do they say that? They say so because I love to write, because I have always been fascinated with the written word. I know I should read more, much much more. There are too many dusty unfinished books lying around in my tiny wooden book shelf and some are strewn all around the house. I wonder what happens to me that ever since I have grown up I go through my reading copiously phases and phases when I don’t open a book for weeks. I’ll look at them listlessly but I can’t get myself to pick them up and open a page. Last month I was reading voraciously, on the shit pot in the morning, on my way to work in the Metro, on my way back home, in bed before sleeping. Now I can barely get myself to skim the newspaper. I want to read them all half read, quarter read books.


I am not one of those writers who have had the privilege of having lived in different countries and to be able to be at ease as much as she is in Delhi as she is in New York as well. My wandering soul did not have the good fortune of travelling beyond the borders of this country but I do dream about new cities, unknown sidewalks, mustier bookstores, a different flush of the night sky, curious smells, stranger accents, different colours of hair, the similarity in the dissimilar smiles. Sometimes though I think, who knows, yes who the hell knows when fortune changes and the world opens up, a brand new day and a brand new world to explore, to see, to touch, to feel, to think some more, to write more, so much more. And maybe in my heart of hearts I await that day.

Nothing adds up to anything. All of this will add up to meaninglessness someday. We would have spent our whole lives chasing, running behind these things and even when we do get what we aspire to get it’ll never feel as good as we thought we would. A brand new job, that big bright red bag you’d been eyeing or the pair of silver loafers you thought you’d die for or even the man of your dreams who appeared out of thin air just when you’d given up hope. Well it isn’t going to be like you thought it shall be when it is finally yours. It never is. The happiness is somehow diluted when it finally materializes and you’ll look at the bag and wonder okay it just doesn’t feel that gorgeus anymore and walking around in those shoes you try to admire them but why do they look so lackluster and what can we say about the man? Why hasn’t he changed your life overnight like you thought he would? Why does everything you have still feel like nothing? What is with this barren desert of a life? When did you become so jaded that nothing, absolutely nothing excites you anymore? When did you lose yourself in these roads so much that you’ll never find yourself again? Or maybe this was you all along?

First Love

As I lie down in the same bed you spent nights with your now wife, after your wedding, I am just tickled by the ironies of life. Isn’t it wonderfully morose that you were the first boy, yes boy because you were only 9 years old then, whoever professed his love for me and here I am lying down on your bed, spending so much time in your bedroom, going through your wedding pictures on your desktop and even looking through your personal files in those carefully arranged folders. I do feel guilty sometimes when I see those pictures because some part of me feels I am violating your privacy and you have no idea as you sit far far away living your picture perfect life. But some pictures are meant to be broken and those cracks have already appeared in my mind. I never intended for it to be like this but I had no other place to take shelter after my broken engagement and your folks were generous enough to let me stay at their place for a couple of weeks. So here I am committing a breach of your privacy every single day. I never wanted it this way. I never wanted to have anything to do with you or the likes of you after the only time we passed by each other after we grew up. We did recognize each other that night, 3 years back at that bar in CP and we looked through each other so beautifully. You looking like a GQ model while drinking your bottle of beer, sitting with your fragile, China doll of a girlfriend, who effortlessly emanates bohemian chic, with your arm casually draped around her and me with my then customary Bloody Mary, smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke rings in the air, in defiance of all I was not and couldn’t care to be.I would have been married this coming Friday to an ugly, fat and dark, obnoxious man and what a perfect nightmare it would have been. There you go I am entirely too honest. But the fact of the matter being this had nothing to do with him being ugly and everything to do with all that he could never be. He could never be tall, thin and gorgeus like you. Now I know why I almost always like tall, thin men because in my head the first boy I ever truly liked grew up to be tall, skinny, nerdy, dreamy. As for me, well on my good days you could call me charming and on my bad days I am neurotic and irrational and the rest of the days I am just plain cold. How different it would have been making love with you as opposed to being in bed with someone I was never in love with and almost got married to. I shudder even when I think of that possibility.The truth also is that all this time that I am spending in your room, amidst your books, your music, your writings, well I haven’t been this much at peace with myself in years now. The truth also is I am not feeling lonely at all and there is isn’t an ounce of envy left in me. I am also no psychotic stalker and you might have been my childhood sweetheart but that is that and we grew up to be different people or so I thought. Apparently we aren’t as different as I thought we were. We could have been friends, yeah we definitely could have been friends. Hahah! Another time, another life maybe.

Dearest World,
I don’t feel like coming back to full time life. I need some time to recover or some time just to sit around and enjoy the nothing to worry about feeling and I don’t think I am gonna be allowed to do that. Hmmphhhhhhhh! And I am not down in the dumps but I do wanna take time off. Work seems so lifeless and looks like there is so much to be done. I wanna be hibernating for a bit. I don’t wanna feel scared all the time. I know I don’t have to be scared but I do feel scared every now and then especially when the doorbell rings or my phone rings. I don’t wanna see any one of those familiar numbers flashing and nor do I wanna see any unwelcome person standing outside my door at an ungodly hour at night. That is the reason I wanna go away and vanish and be incommunicado for a while.
Love,
A Disgruntled Me

Damn it I just read this not so old post of mine and realized that being all committed and about to get hitched has also meant that all of a sudden over the last 3 months or so I have become oh so sane and calm. That is the good part, one of the best bits. Not that I don’t worry. I still worry about a million things but these things are so much more tangible and has nothing to do with my bouts of insanity. Sigh! I am growing older and wiser and is the impending marriage doing this to me. I should have a separate series called the Wedding Diaries whereby I chronicle the daily happenings and believe you me it would have a fair share of drama. Real life is like that. We ourselves don’t realize that our own stories in some way or the other could have that epic like quality and sometimes even some fairy dust scattered all over it. Though there are days when all it feels like is like an ordinary paperback novel and I have been told that the scariest days are those when our life is a reflection of some ekta kapoor sitcom and that is when one just wants to run away and hide and wait till the serial gets over and forget it like it was just a bad dream.