Former Party Girl

I used to like going out. No, cross that - I used to love going out.

I loved parties and large gatherings and people din't scare me. I don't think they scare me now as much as they annoy me. It takes too much effort to fake interest in their small talk anymore and I'm not naturally drawn to the "broken" ones who nurse their drink in the corner of the room anymore. About two years ago I'd walk into a room full of strangers and do a stand-up bit of sorts. Everyone would fall in love with me and I'd thank Mrs. Liquid Courage for my star-like quality.My Instagram would flood with #aboutlastnight photos and strangers from the night would hit me up on Facebook the morning after.

I don't know when I got over the whole thing. I don't know when I realized that it doesn't really do anything more me. But as I type this I can't help but wonder if the realization came to me, or did the parties stop happening.

I've always known a lot of people in varying capacities of intimacy. Some probably got busy, some probably I lost on the way, some probably just didn't do it for me anymore, some probably started exploring ewer interests that didn't excite me and some probably started hating me. Maybe it was the lack of parties that forced me to prefer staying in.

I'm sitting here on a Saturday night with a glass of whisky by my side while my roommates are out for a Diwali party, trying to resume this blog, And I actually don't mind that.

When did we get here?

Old-age, is that you?

One of my closest friends was in town and she asked this girl if she got along with this other guy she wanted to have lunch with, so that all three of them could hang out. The girl said most nonchalantly "It's not about getting along, everyone can get along... but what's the point if I don't have fun?"

That's that, I guess. I stopped having fun.

And what a tragedy that is.

I Remember My Dream! aka TOW Too Many Parenthesis!

Oh my god! This has literally never happened before - I actually remember a dream I had last night with fair clarity.

It was midnight and I was outside the house I grew up in.

Wow! "...the house I grew up in" Who would've thought this is something I'd ever get to say. It's funny how things turn out; I actually have a house I grew up in. How old am I? 80?

I was walking in search of fairly lights. That's right! For some reason, I was walking on an empty road in Delhi, outside the house I grew up in, to buy lights.

Fairy lights are awesome. We need fairly lights.

I crossed the spot I spent years of my adolescence at.

Looking back, that spot is 'the spot' in my growing up chapters. Such monumental discussions, controversies, gossips and moments have happened in that spot that I'm actually smiling as I type this. Like, the time I kissed him on his cheek and it became the fodder for the aunties for weeks after or the time my mum caught me chilling with my friends there when I was supposed to be at the gym. Good times... 

There was no one on the streets; no one important, anyway. I don't know if I was home for a break or for good,

I hope it was a break. I don't think I can do Delhi anymore.

but I called him. True to character, he promptly picked up. I asked him who he was with and he just refused to tell me. I told him I'm in grave need of some fairly lights and I must have them asap. He laughed at me saying how amazing it is for me to believe that I'd get that anywhere at this hour of the night. I told him very confidently that I know a place in Santa Cruz that sells them and I'm sure they're open at the moment. "Will you take me there?" "Ummm... chal aataa hoon! Meet me at the spot"

Catch: Santa Cruz is in Bombay.

The dream changed plot after that, so I'm not sure how this one concluded.

When I texted him about the dream today, this is what he replied:

Do I believe he dropped everything (including who he was with) to drive me from Delhi to Santa Cruz, Mumbai for fairy lights? 

I mean, I want to!

What a fun story that'd make!

Happy and Gay

The thing with people of "alternate sexuality" is that they're constantly struggling with their big 'coming out' moment. The social stigma that's attached to not being completely straight is somehow conveniently still accepting of the fact that one may have 'dabbled at school/college for a bit' as long as one is into the opposite sex 100% at the current given time. But I don't think it's the fear of rejection from friends or the fact that one's popularity (that one holds so dear) might be put at stake, it's more than that.

We've all read stuff on the internet about sexuality being fluid and have often had much passionate discussions among our 'more adventurous' friends about it. Of course, there are those who cannot stop talking about their faaabulouuusss gay best friend constantly. Even if you put the ever so popular 'dabbling' aside, it does boil down to being in love with the person essentially and not the person's genitalia (which is the point of crucial difference, I am assuming). The conclusive argument more often that not is seemingly 'to each their own' without much affinity to the thought. 

I think the primary obstacle for people whose sexuality does not fit well under the 'mainstream' is the fact that being gay is not the most interesting thing about them and if people were to know of their sexual preference, it would be all about that and nothing else.
And nobody wants that!

iQuit?

I love smoking, I do. But do I need it? Perhaps not. Apart from the very rare bouts of  'need to smoke because I ate too much' or 'i'd smoke instead, lest I say something horrible to you because you are ugly', I never really need it I believe. Except, for when I am being faaaabulouuuss (for want of a better word). Look at any black and white movie, everyone is smoking. Smoking is glamourous and I'd like to believe I'm a fairly glamourous person. Could that night at the balcony be equally thrilling if there weren't smoke signals passed between him and I? Wouldn't the silver outfit look a little incomplete with just a glass in one hand and no smoke in the other? Could the long conversations be the same without the Marlboros dangling from everyone's fingers? Of course, the sincerity of the post coital fag can't be ignored. And what about the thrill of sneaking a smoke at the most unnatural moments and places? Bumming cigarettes off friend's dad's collections, going to the loo and then making one another believe that it isn't smelling of the smoke thaat bad, collecting cigarette butts of the expensive ones we smoked.. too much is coming back to me now. And that's the point, smoking has witnessed too much of our lives. In that moment of rebellion against the father figure, we smoked; in that moment of love with the boy we wanted to travel the world with, we smoked... It can't be explained, but it is liberating. And of course, glamourous!

Of course your lips get dark, but you will find a pair of smoker lips to kiss. Or a pair of lips that love you for you. Of course, girls shouldn't smoke because of pregnancy issues, but then who needs more kids in this already noisy and dirty world? Of course, even the packs tell you that smoking kills, but then so does walking on the streets of Bombay.

I decided to quit day before. I am not quite sure of my reasons. But I have only smoked one cigarette since. I guess I'm cutting down then. But in the moments that demand the air to get smoky, I am sloowllyyy going to release enormous amounts of smoke from my nose and mouth, not to show off like I tend to do about my drinking capacity ''that's pretty good for a girl'', but to expose the little private achievements of a young girl, who at one time or the other, walked around in fake jewelry, makeup and high heels on a morning at home; with a toothpick in her hand that posed as a cigarette.

...When I am being faaaabulouuuss (for want of a better word).

You get twenty five whole years to ''grow up',' and I get just two decades. It hardly seems fair.

Honesty.

It's funny how nobody else thinks honesty is selfish. 

If I screw up real  bad, then being honest about it is going to free me off the guilt.. clear my conscience... the works. However, it is going to hurt everyone else involved. I am trying to protect them by nor revealing the truth.
I've always been on my high 'i-never-lie' horse when in fact I've often held back.
They say it's equally bad.

All I'm saying is that having people close to you bear the brunt of your actions by virtue of truth. hardly seems fair.

I don't know what I'm saying. I hardly do now.

That friend.

We all have that friend. Well, most of us do.

That friend you'd meet when you are way into the prime of your adventurous streak.
That friend whose ass you had to cover each time they screwed up.
That friend who'd get suspended with you back in school for two weeks;
and then some more.
That friend who'd be a proud member of your back bench-er association.
That friend who'd go pick up a fight with the girl who called you names.
That friend who'd run away from home and live with you.
That friend whose mother trusts you to be the one to put some sense into them.
That friend who'd be an excited little blob when you make them bunk school for the first time.
That friend who'd write you love chits for no reason.
That friend who'd always make you want to go out of your way to protect them.
That friend who'd take a million pictures with you, without occasion.
That friend who'd be part of the 'people-you-can-never-speak-to' clan before they became That Friend.
That friend who'd spend all their summer evenings talking to you.
That friend who'd always pretend to be equally concerned when you'd fret over your potential balding.
That friend who'd often seem like an extension of yourself;
an unhygienic extension. But an extension nevertheless.

That friend with whom you just stop having anything in common with after a point.
That friend with whom the lack of commonality seizes to bother after a point.

We all have that friend. Well, most of us do.

That Friend who picked out the Red for you.

No one said it would be easy...no one said it would be this hard

Even though I might want this post to possess major undercurrents of an intellect so high and of maturity never seen before, that's not happening. The only thing that's on my mind right now is May. And with May comes University-Exam-Time. 


Ugh.


I sound like a nerd. I'm not a shallow person, really. Mostly, I'm not. However, most of my living years have been loyally devoted to the protection of a reputation and an image. Well, in my defence, the 'image protection' program has never been tough, so to speak, as nonchalance about all things important came rather naturally to me. But things look slightly different when you're about only a year away from 'making it' or at least being on a path leading to the same. Things look even more different (badly so) when the result of your first year in college isn't particularly brilliant, to say the least. Hence, serious ass kicking at the end of second year is mandatory. Yes, making up for lost time, undone deeds, attendance etc is a bitch!


I met this old friend two days back. He's become a different person now with his new job and the works. Then there are those I know who are at that crossroad in their lives where they cross the threshold of being on their own. I think growing up is war. It really is. Plus, there's the analysis of aptitude based on bookish details. Yes yes.. we all hate the 'system'; we could just set the 'system' on fire and then poke it all over with a fork. But, we are still part of the 'system'; the one that needs us to study till we've practically shat in our pants and then wipe that shit all over the answer scripts. 
These answer scripts, in turn, determine our position in class, society, life! It's not all bed of roses.
I feel a little lucky though that being a student of literature allows me slight liberty of making my personal opinions matter sometimes.
Point being, MustStudy.
A bigger point? Will.Study.


All this and more, only to reach that point in my cerebral setting where coming back home doesn't seem like an option.


"I'm young. I live in a house my father owns, in a bed my father bought. Nothing is mine..except my heart and my fears and my growing knowledge that not every road is gonna lead home anymore."


I miss Wonder Years.

One life to live

I hate keeping in touch.
It just doesn't come naturally to me. I am not someone who's socially awkward and it's not like I don't enjoy new company. I am (famously :P) called 'the social butterfly' by my people. However, keeping-in-touch with all sorts of people just isn't my thing.

What I hate even more?
When random people out of nowhere accuse me of not having kept in touch with them. Helloooo? If you were worthy of an iota of importance, I would have done the needful. The fact that I didn't, should be enough hint.

I don't have particular fondness for most people, anyway; and that doesn't always help.
Is it just me or is it slightly alarming how I hate so many things?

You know how you're different people to different people? Some people find you funny while the others think you don't talk as much; how you annoy some people and then there are those who adore you; you're the jumpy freak for some and the ever so mature lady to others....
I have different personalities for different people. Of late, that's been disturbing me. I want to be Love, Pain, Anger, Wrath, Bliss... I want to be what I embody; My emotions. My spirits.
I want to be me.
Only me and no one else but me.

Talk about utopia. Sigh.

Bob calls me 'wave'.
"You're a wave."
"Errr.. Like... I have my highs and lows?"
"Possibly, that too."
"And?"
"And that you're always moving to be different. When you're at point A, you think you want to be the person at point B instead. Only, when you reach B, it bores you and you strive for C, you know?"
I smiled.
Didn't nod.

There's no feeling more beautiful than oblivion.
Especially, if it's with respect to self.

Me Myself and I

Isn't it strange that my entire blog is really nothing but some fragments of my bloated ego put together?

Isn't it strange that my entire blog is oblivious to the entire world but me?

My net got conked off for a week.

I'm back now...

to write more about my self and exaggerate my being even more.

Because I got high.

That awkward moment when you are convinced that if pricked, rum is going to flow out instead of blood.

Yes, I spend way too much time on Facebook.

The week that was has had it's share of 'moments'; good, bad, public and some not so. The points of revelation were :

• Being Home-alone is EPIC and totally manageable. Makes you responsible.
• I am an alcoholic. For sure.
• I don't take well to emptiness/loneliness on drunk nights.
• Crying is relieving. 
• Ross and I are going to die trying outdo each other.

So spent some nights home, did some unmentionables amongst others; spent some nights out, did just as much amount of unmentionables and then Mum got back. I think I missed her a little bit too. It's only when you don't have something staring at you in your face do you realize its importance.

Yes I am as uninspired to write as uninspired gets. Lots on my mind, I guess. So without further attempts of stringing some vague words into apparent sentences, I leave you with- 

Happy Drinking. I miss my Old Monk(s).

Soon...

Inanimate.

The paths, why walk them?
The beings, why meet them?
Changed direction, dissimilar inclination
Doesn't halt, does not sojourn.
Why walk? Why meet?
Why keep going on?

The vagabond, the tramp
Galavants about
Carries all the sickness of life
Wins some, loses some
loses more, wins more
Happiness pricking like a knife


Every crossroad;
A new face, a new story told
Every crossroad; 
A new melancholy also sold
The impatient.
The insecure.


Chaos, Uncertainty and a Hurricane of a way
Silence, Muteness on a Path sans any say
The wife.
The whore.
The impatient.
The insecure.


The name; comes and goes in waves
Reaches the shore, ends up a knave
The misadventure.
The failure.
The wife.
The whore.
The impatient.
The insecure...

Haircuts and Other Cravings.

Pearls of Wisdom :

• When you go to get your hair cut really short and come back home with the feeling that it is not short enough from the back, cutting it yourself is not the best call. Ya. So it took me a very long time but I have managed to even it out now. Almost, anyway. A mother who is not supporting of your actions and is all "I will not even it out- take responsibility for your actions" isn't exactly a ray of hope.
• When you are faced with the evil (read: Examinations!), you must, consciously, avoid eating. You end up realizing that not only have you not studied jack-shit for the exam, you have also ended up eating (and subsequently looking) like a pig. Really.
• When you are a self-proclaimed chocolate and milk hater and you suddenly find these urges in your body that crave for chocolate cake or Oreo shake, you know food is all you're thinking about; Doomsday. Pig! Pig!
• When you realize that the bag you're using for the past two weeks was given to you by someone who hit you and you continue to use it out of sheer laziness, you must know that there isn't an ounce of dignity or integrity that can be found in you.
• When you continue to believe Bob after the one million and one times you've been let down, you are possessed.
• When you plan parties and look forward to all things beautiful that're going to happen post the damn exams, you realize how much importance you attach to them.
• When you get sick to your stomach because you're trying so hard to make conversation with someone that you think matters, words don't flow.
• When you just can't get your best friend to meet you, your trying over and over won't help. In all probability, she is over you, anyway! Sigh. YES! I AM TALKING TO YOU@
• When your toes hurt three days into the new year, your resolution to not wear high heels this New year's eve is going to fail.
• When you know that the major reason behind your life sucking a few years back was math, it's true. I have never encountered anything more depressing or taxing. I am just glad it's out of my life for a little over two years,now.
• When you paint your nails green the night before the exam, the examiner might not be too appreciative of it.
• When you think it might be funny to tell your otherwise-jolly-mum "How hard can it be? You did it! Hahahaha", the humor might not be reciprocated. At all.
• When you're gonnnneeeeeee... Ya! I was just trying to stick to the "when you" theme I got going on here. Also, you must never feel guilty of the fact that songs by Avril Lavigne still make sense to you and Britney Spears was/is Goddess type of person.. It's Britney Bitch! :P

,,,

You know how there are some things that no one tells you but you learn anyway?

All the things I know right now, If I only knew back then

The swelling is gone.
The pain remains. The bone right under the eye? That's the spot!

It's hard to function through the day without flashes of yesterday.
My phone's been off for most of it to avoid the calls.
I am dazed, still.
This shall pass.
It has to.

I put makeup today. I do it every time I need a 'pick me up'. Did NOT work.
Still dazed.
I haven't smiled in a while.

Shit! I just realized I haven't eaten anything! ...
...Ate. Not working.
Still dazed.

I think I will get back on Facebook. I breed on exaggerated, however fake, attention.
If people are going to hit me around anyway, I might as well enjoy my share of cheap thrills.
Yes. I am very very lame like that!
And very very pained right now.

It's embarrassing to talk about.
It's too hard to let out.
I am the strong one! Why the fuck is this so hard, man?!!!

It's crazy.
Next post is not going to be about this.
Next thought is not going to be about this.
No, I am not cutting my hair over this.
No, I am not going to 'drown my sorrows' in drinking ( I hate that phrase anyway!)

With a clear head, minus intoxications of any kind, I am getting over this.
Hell! I am over it.

I am back on Facebook.
That's a start?
Yes? No? No?
Okay :|

At least it doesn't show anymore;
doesn't show in the ugly shades of purple.

He hit me today.

Mistakes are not experiences; they're failures.

I have failed.

I took a very long bath. Bathed less, cried more.

I made something up to tell Ma. 

I contemplated cutting my hair really short; it's hard to face self in the mirror; face the failure.
I think I will get a tattoo to outdo the 'pain', per se.

My friends tell me they'll fuck his happiness;

somehow that makes nothing better. It's all so hollow.

I don't need to be told he's a bastard.

I don't need to be told it's okay and I shouldn't waste any tears on him.

I don't need to offered a new perspective.

Not even for a second. It's almost like I want to be hit again to let it all out.

To do it right this time.

To get back at him.

One last dance with Mary Jane. One more time to kill the pain. 

Only, I don't think I will be able to kill it. That't the saddest part.

No. That's not the saddest part.

The saddest part is that it's going to stay forever;
not the swelling, not the pain;

the memory.

Hi5

HahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahahaHahahahahahahahahahaha

Ya.
We were (still are?:O) a bunch of wannabes!

The days when we captioned pictures of ourselves with "moi".
The days when we wrote 'testimonials/profile comments' for each other as though we were marketting each other.
The days when 'no. of profile visits' was the trump card.
The days when albums about every little moment (including a sneeze!) weren't put up.
The days when this and so much more happened.
The days when we were active members of the good old 'Hi5'.

What happens when you pledge to deactivate your Facebook account?
You dig up some old graves and sign in your Hi5 account.
What do you find?
A bunch of lame lame LAME losers who seem to have been using your and your friends' names for some Hi5 accounts! Seriously!
That couldn't be us, for real! Could it? No. They were/are different people. They've got to be.

The ugliness of the pictures back in the day doesn't even begin to crack me up. We were so damn ugly. Each one of us.
Thank the Universe we have grown out of it- looking like that, for starters. Phew!

From the 'About me' to the 'Favourite books/music/movies' la la la it was all multiple levels of wannabe-ness. It is surreal, that page!

Brought back some memories; some nice and fun, some not so.

Amidst all the lameness, one thing that particularly stood out for me:

Back in the day, I was with this guy named Angad. Some good times with him.
Anyway,

Picture of Angad with two of his female friends doing the whole patent Charlie's angels pose on his either side. You know? Back facing back Making guns with your hand.
Caption : "Hii!!My Name Is Charlie...Wud U B My Angel...hehe jst playinn!!"
.
.
My comment below the picture: "im ur angel 4eva...wud u b my charlie? lol.. u luk ammzin!"

Yes. I laughed too.
A lot.
Clearly the '4eva' didn't remain...

Facebook! Come back! I am so much cooler with you. Or so I would like to believe. Sigh.
Wait till I look back at you and blame you for my quirks.

Next up? Orkut, maybe.

Barely Breathing.

Okay. So I've been eating a lot, anyway. But for whatever's it's worth, I haven't been having as much junk as I did until last week so that's got to be a good thing! Also, exercise and lots of dancing is on; so that should be a little helpful too, if nothing else.
The Great Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbes) said once, "Realities continue to ruin my life"- I couldn't agree more at this point and time.

To start with, it is December. I love winters and December is my particularly favourite month too. However, December with all it's madness, partying, laziness and the works is soon followed by the dreaded January- the month of the College Home Exams.

When you're in Delhi University and your attendance and other assignment submission records aren't exactly something to flaunt, the least you can do is clear all the internals with a slight tinge of respectability(to ask for anything more is going to be rather far fetched). The fact that after my 12th board exams, the course I opted for was that of English Honours Programme in DU isn't comforting at all. How am I ever going to do anything in life if I can't manage the pressure and stress that comes along in the journey to becoming a Graduate, alone? So much for wanting to be a responsible adult with a focus in life and rocking it while she's at it. Here's the deal : English isn't Math. Apart from Math being completely unnecessary and boring, it is also objective. English, on the other hand, is about points of view, critical analysis, awareness. So while 2+2=4 and nothing else but that;  while reading a book I need to know about not only the book, but the author and his life and the friends he had and the affairs he enjoyed and the history of the time and the political power play of the era... bah!- Subtext to the whole thing : I am screwed.

Today : 1st December.
Date of first exam : 3rd January.
Days left: 33
Books to read: 16
Mental status: ..........

So new challenge for the month apart from the quest to lose the paunch is, obviously, studying! Studying like mad! It's at times like this when one realizes that it's not like this is difficult but impossible. My biggest need at this present second is for someone to tell me the fuck from where I begin!!! The world would be so much easier without technology- Yes Yes! I am talking to you, Facebook, Blogger, YouTube, TV and Cellphone!!! You don't let me study. Also, the splash of social life that I seem to be living with is almost like a necessary evil.
Breathing is getting problematic. For real.

So take a moment- coz it feels so good.

'Being Alone' had never really been one of my 'things'. I never enjoyed being by myself. I was always awkward by myself, especially if it's out in the public.

I could never see myself as being that peaceful looking woman I saw sipping coffee at Costa by herself with only a book as company; or the one who steps out of a mall accompanied only by some big shopping bags and no person. There have been times when I have had to be reminded about food on my table because I was so dumbstruck by the woman who was eating lunch by herself at the adjacent one. For me, even the distance from my house to the nearest Department Store (which is about 2mins walking) had to be covered with someone on the phone.

Could never do it, until very recently. I discovered this whole new dimension to being on my own. It's liberating, the feeling. Now, I like to take days off from other people to be with me and me alone. When you know a little over one million people and are (as I was called recently and I loved the tag) 'A non-gilded butterfly', the time off is a necessity 

Today was one of those days.

I watched Guzarish today in the morning- Beautiful- That would be understating it. I cry in movies, I feel too much while I watch them. I remember there was a time when my parents were purely anxious of letting me watch any sad cinema because I would, apparently, spend more days than one pondering over that film. Needlessly to say, I cried in this one too. But a LOT. Each frame induced in me so many emotions, and no, they weren't only that of pain but also of hope and happiness, strangely. The movie was watched via my pink but tear-stained spectacles. A.Must.Watch.It.Is.

Next I took an auto to destination two. I sat inside the vehicle like a zombie..still shedding a few tear drops here and there. 

Lame? Tell me about it.

So the auto guy shook me almost literally and dropped me off at the Taj Palace, Delhi.Yeah. I can be quite the pricey little bitch every now and then. So after elaborate fancy checking I entered. You can't go to a five star and come back without spending some quality time in the 'Ladies Room'. I did too, only to thank my stars. Turns out all the crying I had indulged in had left major signs on my face. New kajal came to rescue and I dolled self up a little bit. Next stop? Kafe Fontana,Taj :D

They asked me if I wanted to have the lunch buffet. I made very grown up faces as if contemplating the idea and then politely smiled and refused. It comes with a sweet price tag of Rs,!700 + taxes. A little too out of league. So I ordered Chicken Shawarma and some Tea. I am usually more adventurous with my drinks but my beautiful winter afternoon ( And It Had Also Rained :) :) :) :) ) demanded a little warmth for my throat. The food was nice and the Chai was exceptionally soothing. I kept picturing myself in the head- I must be looking like this rather confident person sipping her tea as she enjoys the window view and smiles thinking of happy things. So sorted. So peaceful. So grown up. The truth was that the picture I was painting in my head was not far from reality. I was feeling rather good about myself at the moment. The very very very polite staff made my day even more. All the investment in the Hospitality Industry, I think, is worthwhile.
All this @ Rs. 840/-
A little steep, yes.
Money well spent, yes.

I am also going to write a little bit about what I was wearing. Clearly, I am a little too pleased with myself, still.
I was wearing a very pretty white cardigan which is a very big deal because I am a compulsive black clothes wearer. With that, I wore a rather tiny dark brown skirt teames with black stockings. Skirts are my new love for some reason, all over again. I want to wear them for the rest of my life now. Stockings because there is no better way to not feel bad about not waxing in winters. Since I feel naked without black on me, I took a black stole along. With a cute bag and chappals to match, I was ready to go. I am turning wayyyy to much of a girl for my liking, suddenly. Sigh.

Still in high spirits, before getting home I stopped at my favourite salon and got myself a long overdue trim. I walked home in the soft drizzle.

Rains and winters- together or separately- there's no getting over them. Not yet, anyway :)

Those were the days...

I am going through a major 'We-are-too-old-for...' and 'We-are-old-enough-to...' phase. Here goes...

• We are old enough to drink without occasion. Our will to drink and the ability to drink are not parallel emotions anymore. We plan our drinking escapades and go to places, pretty and ugly, to connect conversationally over drinks with friends (and foes). Gone are the days of secret cheap booze bottle that had to be guarded with one's life and opened only when the world slept and we were in the confines of a friend's locked room whose parents slept like babies.

• We are too old for showing unnecessary skin. This year new years eve, we won't be wearing skimpy outfits that revealed more than it concealed, only to the excitement o everything male around and to the envy of their female counterparts. This year it's all about the sweaters and jackets and coats and la la la. BORING!!!! Nothing like a bit of drama on a very very very cold new years' eve. Maybe, I will still show some leg. Maybe not. Bah! Humbug!

• We are old enough to admit that we liked 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens without being called a nerd by your peers. "Bah! Humbug!"- The phrase will stay with me forever. Long Live Uncle Scrooge! :)

• We are too old for asking for permissions from parents. Okay. That's not entirely true. But isn't it so cool that we almost believe like it's true? Like all the time!

• We are old enough to buy pretty summer dresses and wear them on day out with 'the girls'.

• We are too old for not having 'the girls'. Really, gone are the days when the likes of Sex and the City seemed way too far fetched. We need 'the girls'. We have 'the girls'. We won't be jackshit without 'the girls'

• We are old enough to date and enjoy all its...err..perks without being 'in a relationship'. Back in the day, wasn't there so much of politics and its interplay with power in the whole dating business. Who will ask whom out? Who dates whom? Same social circle? Approval from cent percent friends? And the works! Now it's so much more simpler. So much more laid back. The politics and its interplay of power still exists, only in a more 'adult' sort of a way.

• We are old enough to go on trips and expeditions without parental supervision. Backpacking doesn't seem as enchanting as before.

• We are too young for not having a Plan. We are supposed to care now! Have a well sketched out Plan. Okay, maybe not well sketched out but a rough draft is a necessity. The fact that we don't (read:I don't) means there's doomsday ahead lest I sort my life. We need directions, we need goals.... I need fresh air.

Okay, the last one just depressed me too much! Hence I will continue with this later, maybe. MAYBE. Any additions are welcomed though.

Damn this old age!

Anyway, for the record, Diwali was very pretty with the lights and all. If only it wasn't so polluted and noisy! SO DAMN NOISY! As tradition, kissing activities happened behind the staircase.. It was more like a Diwali wish, only, slightly longer. Yes. With my Ross, forever. I flinch in calling him that now, sometimes. That should be a good sign. Yes?

• We are old enough to COMPLETELY get over that one person that makes us realize that we won't die of the heartbreak, we would just wish we did! Really now! I am tired of the on and off we have kept up for the last one hundred years! Phew!

I am unreasonably bright today, for some reason :) Nothing can put me down........!!!

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Nothing but the thought of a very early college day tomorrow. "Bah! Humbug!" :P

Arriving Somewhere But Not Here

Passion I think is one of the most important things in life. You need a drive, a force that carries you through. Personally, I think your driving forces can change from time to time; change is the only constant, is it not? 


It was only a few years back when I thought I wanted to do so many cool things and believed that I would be so fucking good at them!
Belief is necessary! There isn't any getting anywhere without that.
I think it was school when I thought I was in possession of super natural powers and was certain that I will nail whatever I chose to do. I think we all were like that in school. We were constantly working... not to score well all the time but to arrive; to get somewhere. We were convinced we were getting somewhere; somewhere we wanted to; somewhere we knew we belonged.
Unlike most people, I have never had qualms about passing on my textbooks. I never cherished them as much. The matter and information in them just didn't seem as important to me. However, the little of the five million books that still enjoy rack space in my house are filled with nostalgia. There are doodles about people we liked and didn't and tid bits and notes about our life crisis and happiness and life changing conversations and issues about the world and so much more. It is in these pages that our respective lives and our lives together reside happily and will do ever after too.
I miss the insanity.
I miss the confidence.
I miss the passion.


I have had my share of very weird trajectory when it came to choosing life paths for myself. I would like to believe I am not the only one.

• In the second grade, I knew this women who was straight out of a painting- so pretty, so young, so elegant, so pure, so loved. She was my math teacher..One of the only time I understood anything about the damn subject was back then. Everyone used to like her and all the male teachers would act like lame losers vying for her attention. I knew it then; I wanted to be her- A Teacher. After two years, I think, she got married and left. Took my dream away with her. Just didn't seem worth it.
• I turned to dancing and I was, if I may say so myself, pretty darn good at it. Hence, a big shot choreographer in Bollywood was where I placed self mentally. Soon, that phase got over too.
• Then for the longest time I wanted to become a full on glam doll Bollywood actor. I knew I would go straight to the top. I knew it was my thing. I knew I would rock. I had techno-colour dreams, for crying out loud! I was consumed by the glitz, glamour, commercialization, futility, pretence and of course, the costumes of this world. I would practice interviews under the shower for when the paparazzi would stalk me for a quote after I would get out of the success party of my latest release! Then I got fat and the dream couldn't take the pressure of the weight, clearly! 
• I still wanted to be on TV so bad.. hosting chat shows or something!
• Through all of this, my very weird parents kept telling me how their being doctors automatically shut all other doors for me and they wanted me to believe that Science was what I would voluntarily choose for self. So much for being supportive and liberal modern working parents. Parents are hypocrites.. more about that later. Being the victim of circumstances (yes yes!), I thought I would have to work around the given framework and hence decided that being a dentist might not suck as much. Reason, you ask? A doctor friend of my mom's husband had told me (I think as a joke) that out of all other medical nonsense, you study the least to become a dentist. That became and obvious calling, hence. Then, magically I just quit passing in Science. Obviously enough it would have been way too far fetched for me to still stick to this. Sigh.
• Margaret Mitchell, the author of Gone With The Wind became a fleeting icon too. She has written just this one master of a book which earned her fame and fortune to last her a lifetime! I thought it wouldn't be as hard.I started writing a book too. Only, it got lost somewhere in those years of major experimenting regarding boys, toys and some other unmentionables. Poof. OVER!
• So much so, that I have had very serious conversations with extremely serious people (read: best friends) contemplating the idea of taking up prostitution as a serious profession. Did not get as much support as I had hoped for. Anyway.
• Finally, I though I will marry a really rich and fair man who spoke good English and had beautiful hands, become a trophy wife and give him beautiful kids. I don't want to get married anymore! :(

Now I am halfway through finishing my college education and though I love my life and everything about it (almost all the time), there is nothing I am working for or towards. I am just here. Back then, so what if I was on the wrong path? I was still on a fucking path!

You need to have tremendous knowledge and passion about at least one thing if not more. None of that I am in possession of. Not yet, anyway.

I had the weirdest things in my school bag- old letters, poems I wrote, friendship bands, oregano and chilly flakes sachets from dominos, broken glasses, ribbons and so much more things that are seemingly crap!

Now, it's all about hairbrushes and lip gloss.

Then, it was fun being weird. I liked being at that thin line between weird and popular with so much ease.

Now, it's almost like people act crazy to conform. To belong.

There are star-studded fantasies about making it. Somehow. Somewhere.

Just not here, maybe.

Must.Find.Out.Soon.