The First Secret.

Doesn't getting a 'favourite' over a 'retweet' for your tweet bring back memories of that guy from high school who insisted on keeping your relationship a secret?

I used to know a guy like that. 

It wasn't an epic romance or anything that its failure would've painted all my future romantic interactions. But it was definitely one of those firsts that used my body in a way that I hadn't thought possible; atleast at the time. 

He was older, dumber and perhaps not interested in me in capacity at all. I'm not sure if I remember his correct name and I definitely don't remember his face. I remember the pink shirt he was wearing that evening though. If memory serves me right, it might have been the year 2005... you know, when the likes of Salaam Namaste came out and Saif Ali Khan showed guys everywhere that not only is it okay to wear pink, they must embrace it. Anyway, I digress...

Speaking of being interested, it wasn't like I thought he was the shiniest bulb on the planet. In fact, I had actually just met him that evening. He was nauseatingly popular though; in a Delhi sort of way. He'd come over along with his friend who at the time was dating my friend. Ugh. And what an ugly break up they had.

My house has been quite the make out spot for many couples in my growing up years. I feel differently about that fact on different days. 

Back to us strangers who were put together in the same room because their respective friends had shut the door on them, we were fairly comfortable with each other. One thing led to another and before I knew it, he was coming in front of me. 

We used to have a huge dining table in the house at the time to give the impression of a happy family when we had guests visiting. Needless to say it was rarely used by us and hence was mostly untarnished. Little did I know that the table was suddenly going to be the most useful furniture we owned.

Our man here literally lifted me up to plonk me on that wooden table quickly that I didn't have the time to even feel shy properly! I must mention here that I was very many kilos lighter then and hence it wasn't an unbelievable feat; just an unexpected one. His need for speed ended right then because he unhooked by cream colored bra, lifted my (then favourite) red colour top and licked my nipples so slowly that I'm getting tingles just writing about it after all these years. It was definitely one of my first few "casual" experiences and maybe is why I still remember it.

I wish it had ended half as comfortably as it had begun because it was awkward as fuck. Thank the universe because it was my house I didn't have to do the walk of shame back home. I still had some years to go before that happened but this was awkward as fuck.

And just before leaving, he hugged me, grabbed my ass and whispered in my ears: "you're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

The Art Of Seduction...

... That's always been the thing with me. I don't know how great I am at it but I have a fair success card to show for the fact that I am not completely at sea at the seduction game. One might associate seduction with getting someone into bed with them, alone. But that's not even the tip of the iceberg!

Seducing is wooing someone's senses. You look them in the eye in a way that they feel you can look right through their soul. You touch their elbow from time to time to have them know that there's no other place in the world you'd rather be. You tell them hilarious anecdotes from your life that's obviously so fabulous in your head. You also let them in on a few stories from your past that you've conveniently blocked out; of course, you share these stories as jokes you laugh off. You flirt, you laugh, you impress... but most importantly, you listen. People will tell you who they are if you just listen. You absorb each word, each sigh, each look; you absorb all of it. You make it all a part of you... till you're both one. Their pain is yours and so are their struggles. Of course, nothing but their happiness gives you utmost joy. You're selflessly and deeply in love with them and the art of seduction lies in just that tiny detail: it's not them you're seducing, it's yourself.

You're seducing yourself into believing there's a world of absolute trust and dependence. You're intoxicated with 'love,' or whatever it is kids are calling it these days. You shake off the high, you switch off and move away from them and their life just as swiftly as you entered it. You move away from everything they brought to your world with little resentment and absolutely no regret. You move away from them with new lessons to add to your art of seduction. You move away to seduce new people with just as much elan...

How do you live with yourself then?

How do I?

Udaan.

I was going to title this 'flight', but somehow 'udaan' has a nicer ring to it. It's almost like Hindi is the French man's French...uh... you know... foreign language.

Anyway, it is so strange that a bunch of strangers come together to trust a metallic container to take them to their destination through the skies.

If we were in another century, the above lines would be in a fantasy novel. 

Toeing the lines of controversy.

So, my personal writing challenge was a bust!

But it's not like anyone is reading this anymore so I guess this failure can be added to the long list of my personal failures. Can you imagine being a celebrity? All your failures are in the public domain. How faunting must that be!

I think the fact that I cannot even keep up with obligations I put on myself just goes on to prove how I love to toe the lines of controversy.

Either that, or that I don't have too many friends left anymore.

Anyway, seemingly some really good things are happening in life right now.
So is it time to put myself up for another personal writing challenge?
Maybe.
This is where my commitment phobia comes all out. 

Personal Blog Challenge

Considering a job, responsibility, mental drama and laziness leave very little time or motivation for writing, I have decided to set myself up for a personal writing challenge.

I will be posting on this blog every day this week. It doesn't have to be anything substantial. It needs to be words strung together without the pressure of the thoughts making sense.

Let's rock this bitch!

Random Thought: I find it pretty weird that I will have no problems at all if any person from anywhere in the world happens to stumble open my blog and follow it regularly. However, as soon as I find out that someone I know might be reading this, I flip!
I wonder if it would really be this easy telling your thoughts to a stranger if it wasn't for the internet. 

Pursuit of happiness.

I think it happened sometime last night when I thought about him after years. When I was intoxicating my soul and seeking happiness in arms I shouldn't be in at all. It probably is the easier way to blame my issues with commitment and relationships on him entirely but I don't know if it is the right way. Nothing happened last night but it took me back to time where I did not need anything to happen with anyone because I was with him. That was enough. Ironically enough, it completed me to the extent that now that it is gone, it's taken a part of me with it. Just very recently I had met someone who was doing such a fabulous job of stitching my soul back together. Needless to say I ruined it and perhaps a little bit of her too.

But where does that leave me now, I wonder.

From the looks of it I am probably in a place where I know in my head that my happiness is what matters the most but I am too tired to deal with the drama that'll follow when I cause unhappiness to other for my sake. I don't know if the above sentence made too much sense.

Coming back to him, I remember so distinctively our last time. He always could look right through me. Even the night when he lay his hand on me, I know that he knew I was more sad than scared.
I remember so distinctively our last time because it was then when I had truly put my guard down and cried for hourse curled up on his lap. When I had told him that I couldn't go on pretending that I was fine despite everything... that he affected me so much more than I had accounted for... that I needed to never see him again for the sake of my sanity.

I think that was the bravest I have been in a long time.
I wonder what made me think of him last night. I would like to find out. 

People's person.

As much as I need people around me, I think I am too much of my own person. 

We could rephrase that maybe. 

I like people around me, it keeps me occupied. Over the years, I would like to believe, I have managed a choreographed detachment with most of them. Or maybe that's how I choose to flatter myself because at the end of the day, they're people; and people are all I've ever known. Or had. 

I haven't indulged myself in too much world cinema, I have read only a few books, I can't tell one music band from the other. It is clear that I am probably the strangest creative person one might come across; presuming I am creative at all. But all my thoughts are based on people...stories people have told me, theories I have heard from people, things I have observed from people, skills I have picked up from people... that's all I've ever had. Of course, most part of any relationship you have with anyone, good or bad,  is in your head. So have all my interactions over time been my own projections? I couldn't possibly be that cool. Because that would mean that I have just had a version of people that worked for me. 

That's like having an apple pie instead of an apple when you want to keep the doctor away. 

I've often said that lack of writing is almost always a sign of the lack of misery in your life. 

I'm writing again. 

I think I'm dependent on people for doing things for me, sometimes even emotionally. 

But I think I am too much of my own person to be somebody else's. 

In other news...

... my blog turned 4 in February this year.

Clearly one of my longer relationships.

I think my first hint of doubt in myself and the other person is after the first 6 months into the relationship.
I am not saying it's healthy, I am just saying it is.

Happy Belated Birthday Blog. I'll always read you even when no one else does. Like right now. 

Let's Start Over?

It comes to me every now and then, the feeling of writing, but I let it pass.

All my thoughts, fears, insecurities and theories seem too trivial to be recorded now I think. 

Or perhaps, they've become to personal to be documented. 

Either way, I let it pass.

I wonder what changed today, that I did stub my cigarette and put my glass of coke away, to get my laptop out of my bag. Blogger was the only tab I opened because I just didn't want anything else to distract me today. It's not like I have something pathbreaking to say but today I just had to see this little white bugger of a blogger box with its blinking cursor and fill it up with words strung together in half baked thoughts. 

What I didn't realize is how frustrating this would be.

Frustrating because I think I have forgotten how to write at all really; presuming I did have a hold on that craft ever. 

If I were writing right now on a paper with a pen, I have a feeling I'd be in a room with crumpled paper strewn across the floor.