Saturday, September 25, 2010

"...You know what? You can actually see old lobster couples walkin' around their tank, you know, holding claws like..." - Phoebe Buffay

"psst.. Do you know the answer?'
That was the one of the weirdest expressions I have ever seen in my life.
Why would one classmate not help the other classmate pass a test, when infact, she knew the answer?
Just because we are not friends, I thought.
Freak, I thought.
Who is she, anyway? I thought.

We lived in denial of each other's presence for most part of our ninth grade. It didn't matter. We didn't know each other. There was an unsaid divide between non-sluts and sluts... between You and I.

"hi.. whats up? How are things at home? Peaceful?"
"yea yea. Almost. Nothing great happened. It was over by yesterday. What about you?"
"I got grounded. But working parents, so doesn't really count! I called the others. They're fucked!"
"yea? Oi. Let me call you back? I have free calling!"
"Oh. Cool."
Ah. The suspension!
So we spoke for two hours, I think?
Remember how you cried like a kid the day we got suspended? They did go on to reaffirm my belief about your rightfully deserved nerd status. Not that it has changed much.
I don't remember what we spoke about. But I do remember it lasted damn long!

Rest, as they say, is history.

Really? It can't be THAT simple!

So there we were. Two people. One, with lots of problems (Read:you). Nah. I had my fair share of issues too. Loads, at that. So, somehow, somewhere, we just sort of fit. As different as chalk and cheese, we walked together hand in hand and made it work. Yes. There was a lot of walking. God knows there was!
"what? I can't cross this!"
"you WILL! it is easy.."
That fucked up wall we had to cross to reach D's house and I swore with all my heart that there is no way in hell that I was going to, primarily because I couldn't. I hated walking. Still do. But you made me walk some five thousand kms from school only to tell me that I had to leap over a wall?? No fucking way! I was certain.
But eventually, I did. Overcame that tiny obstacle course. Then was then, This is now. We have crossed all ways together.

That time when you were convinced that you are incapable of any luck with the opposite sex and how I knew the myth that was and would tell you so.
How I knew all these guys and would gross you out with the gory details of my escapades. Ha Ha.
I still do.

In school.
You were such a creep about your stupid food and would hide and eat it. You would hide it so that none of us would be able to eat. Clearly, 'sharing' was not your favourite school lesson.
I always knew you were weird.
I never knew you would be so important to me.

I like you. A lot.
My one million and one ambitions I decide to achieve, you listen to them. I think that is because you made me buy my first sanitary napkin, FOR YOU! That evening still gives me the creeps.
Our conversations about the world and the things and people in it. Very meanly, so.
How I intimidate you for no rhyme or reason.
How I am turning bi-sexual.
How saving for your birthday was very hard.
How your case will always be taken by yours truly. ONLY by yours truly, No one else.
How you are my only friend I want to hug all the time.
How one day you will know that amidst all my fifty lakh friends, you do enjoy a slightly higher pedestal.
How I'll take you to Big Chill the day you are okay with me having fifty lakh friends.
How we eat and get fat and you crib about getting fat and I listen.
How I listen.
How I am sexually fucked up and you get it. You pretend you do. You listen.
How you listen.
"I farted just now! hahaha"
"I don't want to know"
"er.. Notice how I just told you hence NOW YOU KNOW! ok bye"
How you text ten years later after one of these occurrences to tell me how I am always mean to you and you get hurt.
How I fight with you then because I am so pissed at you for not telling me there and then.
How you are so ugly! No, No cover up there, You need your best friend to tell you this. Really.
How it sucks that we'll drift apart eventually. I know we will. And my entire life you'll take away with you.. Maybe tell other people too. But that does not bother me. The fact that you know the 'story of my life' suffices.

I will call you when we're 85 years old.
You will obviously sound like a man then...err..let's rephrase. You will sound manlier then. I will be the epitome of the 'mature' single women your horny son would be having wet dreams about.
And I would still hold you like I do now.
And I would still like you like I do now.. barring the days I want to kill you. But I want to do a lot of things randomly so I don't think it counts.

Remember how we had a plan.
A plan that painted us both in Hansraj. Economics and English. You and I.
The never ending quest of wanting to hold on. Forever.
Clearly, none of us got through.
But here we are.
Still as lobster-like.
Still walking around our tank holding each other's claws.
Never letting go. Not yet, anyway!

Monday, September 20, 2010


I am sorry for having had you dressed up and then not calling.
No, wait! That was you.

I am sorry for painting pictures of happiness and then splashing dirty waters all over them.
No, wait! That was you.

I am sorry for undermining you and for treating you like a back up furniture.
No, wait! That was you.

I am sorry for telling you that I loved you, when in fact, I did not.
No, wait! That was you.

I am sorry for failing to keep the promises I made to you.
No, wait! That was you.

But, most of all,
I am sorry that now I am the center of your universe, seemingly.
No, wait! THAT IS YOU.

I think you let me control you too much.
No, wait! Still, you...

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Get out of my face! I have a gig to go to...

The things I'll never be able to tell you in person because you are almost a suicidal piece of crap!
Your neediness disgusts me. It breeds hatred in me. I choose not to cultivate. I cannot heed to your constant need of attention. I understand break ups are hard. But that does not make it okay to swing to and fro between that girlfriend of yours and me. And oh! the snooze fest about how you miss her and how she is everything you ever had and *snooze*.... Just talking about it is nauseating. And then there are those days, when seemingly I am the most beautiful person you have ever come across and to pamper and spoil me is where your calling in life lies. If only you could see how abnormal this is. "please hug me!" "please kiss me!" "please love me!".... PLEASE STOP! I have every right to not take your calls when I don't want to; I have every right to not reply the very second my phone flashes '1 new message. *You*'. The last time I checked, this was a free country! I have enough problems of my own for me to devote my life to yours.
Hence, for your sake and mine, I need you to get out! Get out of my life! Let me be. I have friends to meet, people to fall in love with, things to create, paths to tread, materials to buy, gigs to attend...

My drummer best friend. I have never heard him play, yet. Sad, I know. However, today the glorious day has finally arrived!!!!!!! I am attending his gig, and very excitedly so. This is the first time ever that I have got the deadly combination of self will to go and permission to go :)
Must look like a girl, smell like beautiful things, kohl eyes to create the illusion of big-ness and scream and shout! You will find me holding out a placard saying 'I AM WITH THE BAND' in one hand and a lifted lighter in the other and jumping in my happy red converse. :D

YOU. Get out of my face! I have a gig to go to!

Saturday, September 18, 2010

She has got to love nobody...

The success of a clubbing night party can be measured based on the following parameters :
  • the puke generated.
  • the random hook ups of the night.
  • the friends you make in the loo.
  • the men/women willing to grind with you through the night.
  • the possible fuck up.
  • the pain in the body the following day.
  • the drunk calls made to the love(s) of life.
Anyway, Wednesday night. What a night! 
Happy Birthday T and the best birthday ever, for sure. 

No scene was created, really. It was a little after one of us had had her fill that she innocently slipped away to let out. Personally, I think party pukes should steal the show. No, this is not being sadistic one bit. I don't want for anyone to poop anyone's party. But there is something about your puke that makes you legendary. I understand being identified by one's puke is not everyone's ultimate dream but having been a part of some of the greatest puke stories, myself, I can't help but feel sorry for people whose pukes haven't made a mark in World History. Sigh.
Anyway, "the puke generated"- CHECK.

Amidst all the dancing, screaming, drinking, smoking and other nonsense, one of us went missing. The fact that she was the one in possession of maximum mood swings, vulnerability, general hang ups in life and the maximum intake of intoxication at that time, did not help too much. A frenzy was launched, obviously. Suddenly the humble little Urban Pind seemed like a huge ass mansion. Love a person, hate a person, you CANNOT lose a person. Finally, the back of her head was recognised, courtesy the helpful bouncers and the photographer. A sigh of relief was soon cut short as while pulling her away, we found her face stuck to this thing with very eager lips. Getting a drunk, horny and big person to stop the 'action' is harder than one could crack it up to be.
Anyway, "the random hook ups of the night"- CHECK.

Ideally, when you go to take a leak, you do just that; take a leak. But when has 'ideal' been a favourite word, anyway? So, one of us goes to the loo, only to bring back a companion. What do you know? The new companion was gay and being surrounded by us (since we are not particularly ugly), gave her immense pleasure. Yes, she chose to be very evident about the pleasure, inappropriately so. She claimed to be a DJ from Mumbai, amongst her other claims. We did wonder why all of her 'claims' about self included her vigorous touching of our body parts.She danced and kissed in manners that I might not be too willing to mention. Anyway, seemed like a sweet person, however sexually charged. We didn't mind her little over the top dance moves either. Ah, Our humility.
Anyway, "the friends you make in the loo."- CHECK.

One of the (many other) advantages of partying with very close people is that you can dance slutty with unknown people on cheap songs and no one judges you! Paraphrasing what was previously mentioned, none of us looked completely ghastly hence there wasn't any lack of attention. Also, no one reallllyyyy wants to say no to a guy who can dance, right? Fortunately enough, we all managed our own personal grind-ers for the night. Obviously, the gay loo friend refused to leave are side hence, every now and then we almost gave in to our bi curiosity...or wait! was it just me? 
Anyway, "men/women willing to grind with you through the night."- CHECK.

I know how there is dramatic rolling of eyes every time one hears how 'teenage is hard'. That, however, is not going to stop me from supporting the fact that it is. Yes, somewhere down the line when I'm facing my quarter/middle/end of life crisis, I would probably kill to come back and yes, it IS a hell lot of fun; However, it has its hardships. One, of the many, being that the most fun things you ever do has to occur (most often than not) under the veil of a lie to parents. 
Over the past few years, I've realised that the only time my mum would call me on my phone is when there had been a death in the family. No, not even then, actually. If my call log is traced, the last call by my mum is when I was ringing to my cell because I couldn't remember where I had kept it. Point being, she doesn't call unless it is an absolute emergency! Now when you're bringing up your kid with that insight, it is not cool when you think it's funny for you to suddenly decide to call on your kid's cellphone!! 
yes. SHE CALLED! It is hard for us to fathom the intensity of the drama that would've been caused had we been a little more drunk, or a little more close to the loud music or a little more naive in lying...
Anyway, "the possible fuck up.'- CHECK.

I don't think I need to waste any writing space on this. Hangovers and bad ones, at that are factual element. The fact that we chose to not sleep through the night at all and continued a mad house party the next day with more people, didn't help matters.
Anyway, "the pain in the body the following day."- CHECK.

There is that moment, every time you are under the influence of alcohol, that you want to fight this unbelievable urge of embarrassingly calling a person! This usually happens right after you're done dishing out some major pseudo philosophical crap about life, death and all the in between. The calls maybe for various reasons, generally designed around the emotion of love.
You call people you are not 'supposed' to have feelings for, to tell them you love them.
You call people whom you had only subjected to your hard exterior, to tell them that you miss them.
You call people who haven't been the nicest to you but you can't help thinking about, to tell them how they need to get out of your life.
And some others...
As embarrassed as you may be the very next day, you must stop to ponder over one beautiful thing; that you feel. that you love. There is nothing more precious than that.
So at the climax of my high-ness (?) that night, as I smoked like there is no tomorrow, it hit me. It hit me that I had no one to call. How can I not have anyone that I want to make a drunk call of love to when I am too drunk to think straight?? It hurts. Really.
So there I was, stubbed the cigarette and went back to being touched by strange men on pretext of dancing. Was it only a coincidence that the very next song was 'Poker Face'- Lady GaGa.? "...No, he can't read my Poker Face... She Has Got To Love Nobody.."

Anyway, I have a cold after one million years. It is a strange feeling.

P.S- I don't like the man I am with these days, anymore. I miss calling my guy, 'guy' over 'man'. As much as I loved the whole 'older man' part, it's starting to tire me out. Also, he is too nice for me. There is too much pretence from me to keep this going. Sex isn't keeping anything intact anymore... though, he IS the best I have ever had. I like imperfections; keeps me sane. This is too much pressure. Also, he probably wants to and will have to 'settle down' soon. I have always had a problem with the phrase 'settle down'. It is way too demeaning. Point being, I'm lost. Sometimes we don't get each other and sometimes that becomes a little too clear for our liking. He calls me 'kid' and I refer to him as 'Good English', but amidst all the cuteness is a lot of chaos (READ: urgency to break free). I like to be in control, I feel incompetent otherwise. Feeling stupid is not my favourite feeling. His 'kid-ing' me around is nice, alright but a little clingy for my liking. If only i knew clearly what my liking was but this is not it, I know. I hope.
Go on, call me a fickle minded escapist, if you will.
"...She Has Got To Love Nobody..."

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Father, the Stranger.

Those were days too
So are these
Those were nights too
So are these
This night shall pass too...

Walking on a red cloud
A burning golden tear
The dream might end
The night will stay, however
This night shall pass too...

Time will pass through the fog of years
Perhaps even your face will be forgotten
When I close my eyes
Perhaps I'll sleep without grief as well
This night shall pass too...

Your evident arrogance
My exaggerated stubbornness
You make me feel worthless
Maybe, deservingly so
This night shall pass too...

Not an unfulfilled childhood
No unrealised dreams
Just abusive reminiscence
Just a hurtful void
This night shall pass too...