Memories and Some Randomness...

Where the hell is time going?!

No, that is not a rhetorical question. I am genuinely asking, where the hell is time going?! And what the hell is happening to this world?! Like seriously?!?

In Meredith Grey’s scripted words, “We’re adults! When did that happen?? And how do we make it stop?!”

And just by the way, three people, yes you read right, THREE people in the last few weeks have told me Meredith reminds them of me. I don’t know whether it’s a compliment or whether I should be deeply troubled. Like really. But knowing me, I’ll take it as a compliment. Even if it is just the dark and twisties. But, I’m really not dark and twisty anymore (I buried that Shreya in some deep dark dungeon quite a few years ago), so it has to be the pretty, ambitious, and fun-loving Meredith right? Right???

Oh, I went off the topic. But take it as a warning, that might happen rather often today.

Yes, coming back to time and things changing. A few days ago, I found myself walking down the lanes of North Campus with an old friend, after ages. Lanes we had traversed a gazillion times during our three years there. Now, I’m madly, like madly in love with North Campus. I think I had some of the most amazing times of my life there. Just the thought of all those old buildings, the winter mist, the cheap food, the independence, the shady Chinese restaurants…

Except... wait. What the hell happened to those shady Chinese restaurants?! Remember the Soho’s, Noodles, Momo Point, Bon Zai’s in that tiny dirty naali wala lane behind bungalow road?? Remember the awesome shake’s at Keventer’s?? Like…WHERE????

That particular walk was depressing, to say the least. We ended up eating at Bercos (which from our student days we remembered as this AWESOME Chinese restaurant, where we could eat once in a while, if we were feeling very very rich). What we got was the slowest service on the planet, crappy food, repair work drowning out our voices, and music (the playlist was still from our school days…Bailamos…no, not kidding) turned up even louder in the hope to drown out the repair work.

Oh. Well.

In other news, there have also been times when the clock doesn’t seem to move. And getting through a day is an achievement in itself. But this blog no longer pays attention to that. Ok? Ok.

In the last few months I’ve met a lot of old friends, and made some new ones. There have been fun times and boring ones. And most importantly, a LOT of people have been making me get off my lazy and depressed butt and get out and actually have fun.

And, at this point of time, I would like to declare to the world, I am in LOVE with Vir Das. Really. Seriously. No jokes.

Oh, what an oxymoron.

And now that I’m back in Delhi, I’m finally beginning to see the actual city. For I have spent my whole life, well, at home, or north campus, or, well, at home. And there’s so much to see! I think I know more of Mumbai than I do of Delhi, so it’s like getting to explore an all new city. Just that this time around it’s not as a broke kid…and that helps.

And I never realized how much I missed Punjabis! I realized it once, after almost a year in Mumbai, when I was spent and disgruntled, I saw a sardar uncle once, and felt some weird amount of happiness rush through me. It seemed like such a rare sight, and made me homesick. Then of course, I realized I must look plain stupid grinning at him, so I walked off.

When I talked about moving back to Delhi, I was scared. So was everyone else. I have a pepper spray in my bag (Except I’m scared that when needed, I might spray myself by mistake!), and a constant painful vigil in my head. Except for one simple realization.

I missed my Delhi friends. I missed Delhi. It’s like coming home. Except, that’s exactly what it is.

I’m home.

P.S. I know, this post had absolutely no point or direction. But sometimes, neither does life. And you know what? It’s ok.

Dead Inside

I believed the world

A beautiful place

Experienced and loved

And trusted

But I was wrong

And I died a little bit inside.

I believed in people

For not everyone was

Meant to be bad

I believed

But I was wrong

And I died a little bit inside.

I believed in me

My strength, wit and

My intelligence

Emotionless I thought

But I was wrong

And I died a little bit inside.

I believed in you

My savior from this world

I thought I’d smile

Forever

I was wrong

But I lived inside

I believed in us

In destiny, love and fate

Soul mates
Meant to be

I was right, yet so wrong

Today, I died.

Of Dreams & Reality

It’s one of those times, when everything is just so perfect. All that you had always wanted, just within your grasp, and it seems so easy, so obvious, that it was meant to be. All those years spent thinking about it, imagining it, wondering how it would feel, all those years led up to this, this moment, this experience, this dream.

It’s perfection. Almost too good to be true.

And then your alarm shatters through the perfection, jolting you out of that beautiful reverie, bringing reality crashing down on you with the force of the strongest winds and the harshest waves. You search for the snooze button, hoping against hope to hold on to the last threads of your dream, refusing to let reality gain control of you, yet again. You cry out in pain, struggle against the rough grasp of the truth, and hope that somehow, just somehow, you can continue with your dream, untouched, undisturbed, unharmed. Yet, you know, even as you see yourself struggle against the grasps of reality, that somewhere it’s over, somewhere, it had always been just a dream, too perfect, too good to be true.

You wake up. You get out of bed. It hurts, but you realize you’re left with no choice. As the day goes on, you busy yourself, trying to rid your memory of the remnants of that beautiful dream, that perfect world, too good to be true. Yet, you find yourself reminiscing the feelings ever so often. You scold yourself, call yourself delusional, tell yourself to be strong and understand and accept what’s real.

Yet, you go to sleep every night, hoping against hope, to dream that dream, yet again.

My December

I sit, and I wait.

As the clock slowly ticks, crossing away each second, each minute, each day, slowly edging towards that time.

The eerie darkness, sunlight in perpetual hibernation, each breath condensing in the thick air, falling short of its purpose, yet creating beauty before its expected demise. The chill permeating your skin, entering your bones, making each movement an effort, yet an accomplishment in itself. Your sight, blurred by the constant fog. The shivering, the chattering of the teeth, the sharp pins and needles, and then the sudden calm as the pain gives way to numbness, a numbness that slowly spreads and consumes each inch of your body.

But most importantly, the numbness that consumes you.

As you step outside in the freezing night, where nothing dares move, lest it be identified as the wind’s prey. As each emotion fights its way through, fighting for survival, for the warmth, to be let out and dance through the world. As the chill slowly suffocates each, in its own relentless brutal way.

And then, you finally smile, feeling the stretch of your face from the effort, and yet it’s beautiful. You feel the chilling wind hit your face, freeze your nose, sting your eyes, so hard that it almost hurts, before you feel it no more. Before you feel, no more.

It’s a beautiful season.

Depressing for most.
Liberating for some.

I sit, and I wait.

Domestication

It’s a word that reminds me of an untrained dog, or something worse, like a cow running wild in the woods.

“Why is it doing that?” ask the bewildered villagers.

“Oh, it isn’t domesticated yet.”

And that really does explain it all.

Except that it’s a term that mum chose to use for me. Well, because, I’m 25. And a girl. And couldn’t be less interested in cooking.

I guess that explains it all as well.

So now that I’m back home, it was only a matter of time before Project Domestication was launched. It didn’t quite go in the direction either of us wanted, but we’ve reached a nice little compromised middle path with which both of us are rather satisfied.

So my dear future hubby, I might not be able to make daal tadka and ten types of veggies for you, but I should hopefully be able to appeal to your sweet tooth at the end of the ready-to-eat packet meal we’ll soon get used to devouring.

So that’s what’s new each weekend, and you know what, I actually look forward to it!

Last weekend was my Mum’s simple vanilla and two layered cake. You would be happy to know, that it wasn’t hard, it wasn’t burnt, and it wasn’t anything weird. It was, in fact, rather perfect.

The yum vanilla cake!

And the double layered cupcakes

Maybe I do have my mum’s baking genes.

Or of course, maybe it was simple enough for a monkey to cook, and with my mum watching over my shoulder and giving instructions, not much could go wrong.

But I choose to believe in the former!

Right now as I write this, there’s a lemon soufflé resting in the refrigerator. Fill you in on that one, well, once I figure out if it’s edible! Fingers crossed!

Hope

Note:

In some ways, this is a continuation to Fate. But then, if you ask me, I don't believe it is. Sometimes, it's all about believing. And I don't believe this is how Fate ended.

Two souls brought into this world

Meant to be, meant to be

Lost faith and yet found each other

And made their own destiny.

But with sunshine came the clouds

The rain not far behind

The moon hid forever

In darkness, they collide

He let the dark consume him

And waited for her to find

But where hope is deep imbedded

Life cannot be lived blind

The dark she couldn’t bear

The light was not his home

Separated by unsung boundaries

Entombed in their little dome

Never once did he ask her

Why she chose the light over dark

Never once did she tell him

Her darkness had left a mark

Never once did she ask him

What made his words sway

Never once did he tell her

He never meant it this way

Thrown together by destiny

Torn apart by fate

They struggled with each other

And within, each day

Belief can be confusing

For those who choose to believe

Enlightening and full of hope

Before it chooses to leave

What they never understood

Fate and destiny only go so far

Once brought together

Hold on, or be flung afar

Cruel is fate’s humour

Cursed from the start

Some things are meant to be

Some meant to fall apart.

True Blood

She was shocked at all the blood. She stood helplessly, ignored, as the hospital staff ran about frantically trying to curb the bleeding. Finally, silence filled the room, as the last breath escaped the bloody form.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, as she watched the nurse wheel her body away to the morgue.

Life@25

So I may have spent the time leading up to my birthday cribbing and whining, but one thing I was sure of, by the time it was 23:30 the night before. I wasn’t planning on spending my birthday like that.

As it turned out, I needn’t have decided that. My family was hell bent on making it a good day. What I lacked in enthusiasm, they more than made up for with theirs. When they saw me low, they cheered and laughed and made me forget my troubles. As the clock hit midnight, I was smiling. And I continued to for the rest of the day.

It isn’t every day that you get gifts from the ones you love. It isn’t every day that your sister, brother-in-law and nephew dedicate their full day to what you want to do. It isn’t every day you step out in absolute heat and enjoy momos and fruit beer at dilli haat. It isn’t every day that your mum slogs all day to make a yummy meal, and all relatives join in. And it isn’t every day that your dad offers you wine before dinner.

Contrary to most jokes from friends about being too old to party now, I absolutely loved my day. If there’s one thing Mumbai made me realize, it’s how much my family meant to me, and how much I missed them over the last few years. Sure, I’ve spent my life pseudo-rebelling and fighting over my rights with my parents. That’ll probably always continue. But nothing can ever compare to the security you feel at the end of a bad day, when you go home, and you know your family’s going to be there, that you’re not alone.

And then there were friends. Friends I haven’t talked to for months or even years, who took the effort of finding out my number and giving me a call. It’s a feeling I can’t really describe. It’s a realization, about the number of people you either forget about or take for granted, and yet, who are still there. It’s a good feeling, to know, that people still care.

All in all, the day ended on a much more positive note than the week leading up to it. For one thing, I realized, that I’m finally of legal age to actually drink in this city. Finally.

P.S. I still find it weird to know that I could contribute to the fate of my country, could get married, could sleep with whoever I wanted for the last seven years of my life, and only now am I old enough to responsibly drink. You gotta applaud this country sometimes, really.

P.P.S. Work is finally starting, and I know this isn’t one of my best posts. But I thought it’s about time I put one non-whiny one up, don’tcha think?

As the clock ticks...

In two hours from now, I turn 25.

I should be happy.

I always imagined I will be happy.

I always wanted to be older. And 25 sounds like as perfect an age as any, no? When you’re old enough to have done so many things in life.

But what happens, when you wake up, and realize, you’ve done none of the things you thought you would have by 25?

What happens when you turn 25 at a time when every morning, you can barely figure out a reason to get out of bed to begin with?

Someone today asked me about my story. He caught me by surprise. Ever done one of those assignments in school, when you write your autobiography? Ever answered one of those ‘Where do you see yourself five years from now’ questions? Did you answer one five years ago? Are you there now? Will you even be there in another 5 years?

What went wrong?

I had a plan. A 5 year plan. A 10 year plan. And then it all went wrong. So wrong.

There is a simple way of making plans work.

You stick to them.

But I didn’t. I lost my way. And I have enough anger and resentment in me today to fuel a space ship to Pluto.  And most of it is aimed at me. I can blame others, but why bother. At the end of the day, I’m the one who didn’t stick to the plan. And nobody forced me not to.

So the time has come, I guess, to sit down and make yet another plan. And this time, to remember, what’s really important.

To stick to it.

P.S. I also got another surprise. I was told by someone relatively new in my life, that I crib more than a rather cribby common friend we have. And that’s when I realized just how big a pain-in-the-ass I must have turned into nowadays for people around me. For the older ones, who are currently rolling their eyes reading this, yes, believe it, I’ve gotten worse.

So I guess I know where to start with the plan.

P.P.S. Any suggestions on how to be one of those annoyingly chirpy optimistic positive people? Suggestions from extremely unlucky and old people would be mucho appreciated!

Let It Rain

Just when things couldn’t get any worse, she felt the splat of a fat raindrop on her face. Then another. And another.

Turning to run back in, a realization suddenly hit her.

“Here, no one will see.”

And standing there in the rain, she finally let her tears escape, mixing and hiding with nature’s fury.