I have found my baby!

Quick Short Post.

I am hardly maternal. I cringe at the mention of kids and my face starts looking like a fucking veg momo at the idea of ever having to be a mother. Or at least it did.

Not that I have had a divine conversion and I am now even a tiny bit comfortable with the idea of shooting out babies from pee-adjacent areas. And yes, my idea of being the ideal mother still is adopting a pretty looking girl child of 5years of age when I am 30 and then make her exactly like me. But now I think the girl child can wait because I have found my baby!

I am overprotective about most of my people, yes. But with her, it's different. It's maternal. I feel funny even writing it. But it's true. With her small mouth and big hair, she walked right into my heart and how.

I'd be responsible for all your 'firsts' too. Always!!!

So because adoption is a huge long tiring process and also perhaps because I am getting my period soon and am feeling particularly gay at the moment,  I just want to tell you that I will make do with you, kid.

Forever. :)
I don't think I can let you out in the big bad world yet. I just can't. :( :(

And you should feel pretty cool knowing that you're probably the only kid in the history of humankind whose mother calls her up post midnight to say, 

"I think we should grow a penis, go to Manali and then write our names on the snow with pee."


I want to end this post with 'those three words', but I think I say them too much to you anyway.



Iloveyou.
Fuck! I don't think I can help it sometimes.


OkBye.

My Baby and I :')

It's Raining Men!

You know these men. You know them rather well. So much so, that you can scribble about them with eyes half shut and brain half asleep. It's past midnight, but these men- they're raining! No Pun Intended.

There are those who look you straight in the eyes, pick up your checks, drop you back home, insist on hugging you goodbye longer than necessary and tell you stories about how they get stoned every single day. Of course, they're kids. And you sort of have to stop to wonder whether or not it is illegal for you to even talk to them.

Speaking of illegal and age gaps, there are also those who should be doing all the wondering about them breaking some state laws when they talk to you. But of course, that's not their style. They are too classy and too bloody charming for such pettiness. They are the ones with the salt and pepper hair that just add more character to their ever so twinkling grey eyes, that are filled with one story too many. If only the slight complication of their marital status didn't exist, life would be so much simpler for you. Anyway, what would life be without people finding your mind sexy and hence wanting to fuck it all the time?

Then there's that bitch called comfort. And the sons of bitches; The Comfort Men. You know the comfort wont last too long because there are those who are probably almost their 'marriageable age' (whatever the hell that is!!!) and hence, well, they'd be married. Soon.
However, the brothers of these happen to bump into you ever so regularly of late. You wonder if that's a sign or just one of your many bad judgements from too much alcohol.

Now that comfort is out of the window, you might want to settle for 'compatibility'. Oh yes, they are completely different phenomenons. Compatibility is more on the lines of 'the one'. The apparent 'the one' and you wont end up together because it doesn't matter how much love/lust/passion (and all other ingredients that go in the making of  'the one'?) both of you may have for each other. What matters is that they and your friend have had sexual and love history together for some 2345686543 years. And even though they have managed to stay successfully 'broken up' for close to a year now, it just doesn't matter. SO ya. She wins. Not that this is a competition.

But if you had to compete, would you compete with the girls that those are in love with for 'emotional support'? You know, those men who make you pretty happy when they're around but don't matter when they're not? They are the ones who imply 'dirty talk' all night, walk with you all through the chilly evening, buy you smokes and just when you think your hormones are going to get happy, they tell you about some 'girlfriend' (oh! they use air quotes!) in a foreign land. You, like a sane individual, argue that long distance relationships don't work because of lack of physical intimacy. They defend it by saying she's there for 'emotional support'. You then realise that they don't have friends, are probably sad and hence, every part of your soul tells you that the sanest move now would be to comfort them. By sticking your tongue down their throats. 

You don't.

It's raining men, indeed!

do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

amen.

Exams Start From The 24th.

Who has two thumbs, must study but gets drunk all the time instead?

Sigh.

This Winter...

The nights should stand still.

I like this feeling of being inarticulate. Words don't communicate too much, anyway. They are just there... incomplete. You know?
I also like arms. Just being wrapped around them. It's prettier in my head than it is in words. You know? Since, words don't communicate much, anyway? In strong arms. It sometimes doesn't even matter to whom the arms belong to sometimes. Yea.. it's probably slutty that way. But wrapped cozy, the sighs almost hurt. They burn.
I like 'tomorrow' and the fact that I seemingly know absolutely nothing about it.
If I think about it... like, really think-
If I were a dream, I would probably be made of silk.
Again, it's prettier in my head than it is in words.
You know? Since, words don't communicate much, anyway?
If I were a dream, I would dare you to dream me, you little stranger.
We should stay close...
Forget the world.
Lie next to each other till the end of time.
Blame our bodies for everything, even though it's the breath that gets most action.
Let's be soulmates.
Only for this winter...

Of course, the nights should stand still.

Boblipop.

You're like winters this year;
You're Almost Here.

:) :) I start smiling like a fool right about now.

October.

"I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."

October is my favourite month of the year. The fact that it is also my birthday month has very little to with my undying love for this time of the year. But  I am pretty glad that I was born and all; but that's another story. Octobers are special.

 

All my life I've been a part of 'Team Winter' and with October is when starts the anticipation of  the beautiful foggy winter mornings and the chilly dark nights. Is it just me or is this time of the year particularly about a lot of 'firsts' of all kinds? Maybe it's just me. But it's the first time I was born, so I would like to believe my argument  holds some serious ground. October is also when people come back to you. Only to leave again, of course. But then, how would one know happiness if one didn't have pain to compare it to? 

 

Also, October Always Brings Love. One needs fair amounts of alcohol, sex, experiences, friends and escapades, not necessarily in that order, to realize that it's not love everyone is so crazy about; but the sheer idea of it. As harsh as it may sound, love makes you miserable. The idea, however... <MustStopSmiling>

 

Anyway, Guess Who's Birthday It Is Todayyyy??????????????? :) :) :) :)

 

     

 

The One With The Heart.

Yes, he's loud and fun and social and has all the other attributes that might make people associate the 'buddy' like quality in him wherever he goes; but I can tell it's not true. Underneath his layers of humour, painfully pathertic jokes and drastically different hair/beard styles, he's a greater person. I met him three years back, I think. We had to transgress through the  heirarchies of relationships:
From being my best friend's friend's boyfriend, he became my friend's boyfriend and eventually my friend. And what a wonderful feeling that is! To be his friend. Sure, you think it's all 'buddy' like.


I am not to sure of what time of the year or our lives it was and I have never ever spoken to him about it. Hell, I don't even remember the exact incident. And hence, I am almost certain that he would have no memory of it whatsoever. But it had something to do with my father; when things were especially painful with him. It was a time when I hadn't reached my current state of blissful indifference with him. But I digress..
My friend and I. We were at the usual shady smoking spot of  ours where Army kids socialize and always let civilians like me feel all 'group-y'. I said something about the father to him out of pent up frustration and I have no memory whatsoever of what he had said back to me. But I do remember no one else having made me feel as much better as he did that one evening.
And that's when everything changed.
He wasn't the little kid everyone cracked him up to me. He was a man.
A man who completely wronged his supremely ironic nickname, 'Nanha'. He is over 6', to say the least.


 You know how stories precede people and you end up forming an opinion of a person based on those stories? He is one such with the bag of stories. Not that I judged him earlier 'cause I know what carrying past baggage is like.
But over the years, with and without all his fuckups, he epitomizes courage for me. He has seen enough, felt enough, done enough; good and bad. He's minus manipulations, I feel. He seems to consider them way too trivial for his taste.
He's the friend. He'll be there.
He'll crib and make your life hell when you may not be that regular with your calling/texting/keeping in touch routine, though. But, he'll be there.


He has, just like all of his counterparts, a girlfriend, loving parents, money, car, bike, permissions, sense of humour... the works!
But there's that one little thing that sets him apart;
He's the one with the heart.