Stop.Rewind.Play

This is about someone who became very special in a matter of hours. Weird? Well actually, I’m sure many people have been through the same thing. Yet every experience would be different. Cos most would’ve ended happily. Don’t get me wrong. I was happy, but there was a twinge of sadness lurking somewhere in me. Have you realized that someone has swept you off your feet with laughter and honesty and sheer magic? It’s happened to me too. And there’s nothing logical or practical about it. But I know just one thing, I haven’t experienced so much happiness in a day… the happiness was short-lived. But that my friends, is the beauty of it all.  Practically a stranger to me, he effortlessly brought back so much to me that I’ll stay eternally grateful. Those two days brought back music, smiles and hope into my life. Showed me what I was missing. Showed me what it was I really wanted and what made me really happy. Oh the joy I felt…the wonder in simple friendship and time spent with near strangers. Going was an impulsive decision. But a good one, for once.

If there’s ever been times I’ve loved…times where the end wasn’t so happy, and yet times I would not change for anything….the 1^st to 3^rd Feb. would be it.

Beginning with an impulsive journey, a night of singing and endless laughs and ending with a look back at two people waving me goodbye…. I will probably never forget it….. Though I’d rather forget it now….it ain’t doing me any good remembering him.

Yes, him. He’s crazy, smart, honest, musically inclined, funny and good company. I don’t know him for too long. Then why is it that I find myself smiling over a lot of nothings in that trip? We yapped, sang, bullied each other, drank and well, did stuff that friends normally would do… I don’t trust people very easily. But this time, I found myself placing a lot of faith in him. Just for the person he is. He loves his family. So who doesn’t, you’d ask… well to see him express it so wonderfully was utter joy… I found myself wishing I was a part of that family. Crazy, yes. Stupid, yes. But what can I do with these things that pop into my head? No, I’m not in love. Atleast not yet. I won’t let myself fall in love with him, knowing I will get hurt. It’s stupid the way things happened. Cos I thought something did happen, but alas, I went back alone. But there are memories. Aren’t they enough? Then why the hell am I tormented?

At a time when I reflect on who really is a friend… who really cares… who needs me….and who wouldn’t think twice about taking your side. Where did I go wrong? Did I not see people as they truly are? Did I not understand who was for real? Did I not realize they were in it for their own good alone? There is remorse and regret now. But there is no point in that is there? The damage is all done. I wonder if people really think about the harm they are causing others. I wonder if they realize how much of a scar they leave. I am scarred. I am also scared. Forever in doubt, about myself and people around me. Who can I trust? How can I pour out my pain onto a screen or paper? How can I express how the tears burn as they burst out and trickle down only to be turned cold, with no fingers wiping them away apart from mine…?

How do I save myself before I turn cold? How do I feel again? Everything around me seems cold, impersonal, hurtful. I know I’m shutting myself away from the world. Now the minute I see someone, I feel like I know where they’re going. I feel like I know what they want from me deep down. That’s why it’s so much safer to shut myself in this room with only the walls to talk to. You think when you’re really low that maybe someone will see your pain. In all probability no one will. No one will know the true nature of your pain.  These are times when I believe this is something you have to go through alone. You don’t have any other choice, do you? Finding strength in yourself is important. But is tolerance strength? Is hiding, strength? Is silence, strength?

It’s surprising what difference age and experience can make…

            I still remember as a kid how I never could fit into the group, my cousins from out of town, formed. I mean, I didn’t understand their jokes or what showing the middle finger meant when I was in 6^th grade. I didn’t have or play the most raved games. Do we even have to get started about slang???? I mean, for reasons of my own, I never got the exposure they did. And it hurt me a lot those days that I was always their “madrasi” cousin. Just that, and nothing more. Just someone who scored the highest grades. Told my mother everything and was a crybaby. The kind of child their parents wanted them to be like. Miss goody two shoes. Just someone they saw once a year and had to live with just because we were related. I never made any difference. I always felt really bad about why my parents weren’t like theirs. Cool and understanding and free. But I must say, their parents always made me feel a part of their family. They are actually my cousins who just happen to be wayyy older. So technically, their kids are my nieces and nephews. Not my cousins. I did develop a lot of my insecurity and fears back then.

            But now when I think about it, it seems really stupid and lame. I think now I can have a decent conversation with my nephews and nieces without feeling out of place. It’s true that I still don’t get half the stuff they talk about. But both of us are older to know better. To know it doesn’t make as much a difference as it did earlier. I’m not “cool” among them. But I’m still their coolest aunt. Lol. 

            What really got me thinking about this is when one of them called me from abroad to wish me on my birthday. The surprising part was we were able to have a fun/funny conversation for more than 15 minutes. I suddenly didn’t feel left out. I suddenly felt, hell yeah. My family’s pretty cool. I can’t believe I didn’t make enough of an effort to talk to them earlier. It all depends on if you can still manage to keep in touch and tolerate each other despite your differences.

            One big factor in being able to get along with everyone is to keep your mind open. To not be judgmental. And to not have preconceived notions about them or they place where they’re from. Try it, and you might be surprised. That’s probably why I have friends from all walks of life. Different age groups. And it’s totally fine. You needn’t understand what they do or why they do it. You just need to accept people as they are and laugh it all away. Also, be frank. Be yourself. People will appreciate you for that. And learn to laugh at yourself too. It’s called being a sport. And oh, learn to keep secrets. (I’m still trying and learning)

            Friends sometimes comment on how everyone likes to call me and unload all their problems or whatever. Hey, maybe you’re busy. Maybe you’re not interested. But the fact is, you can still listen and always have in mind what a difference it would make to them to be able to talk to someone. Imagine yourself in their place and then it works just fine. Yes, sometimes people annoy you, take you for granted, and toss you around. But it’s all part of the game. Surely I’ve done that to people at some point or the other.

            It always troubled my ex boyfriend that I could strike up a conversation with anyone. Sort of made him jealous or annoyed cos I was getting along well with his guy friends. Trust me, my intentions were and are perfectly noble. And I always had more guy friends than girls. Always a tomboy. Always felt that all girls could do was gossip, bitch and talk about make up and clothes and lame ass stuff. I was soo totally not one of them. And then I came to a city where I studied in a girl’s college and stayed in a girl’s hostel. I found many more people just like me. And ended up making some really awesome girl friends. I know now that I can count on them more than anyone else. No offence to guys. But you really do think with your dicks. (Most of you. I’m glad I know a few who are better than that)

            My point is, you can get along with anyone. If you want to. And if they want to as well. Just bend the rules a bit. Don’t be rigid. It ain’t getting you no where. Your beliefs are yours. Not to be imposed on others. And remember that others are just like you. The day you understand that you will find your mind a lot freer and your friends will appreciate that. So what if a friend doesn’t party or drink?? You can still have fun. They can become designated driver or someone to rub your back when you throw up. Or better still, they’ll dance with you till the music ends.

    I log in to my mail box on the day of the Delhi bomb blasts and find myself surprised to read, “ yet another bomb blast” as the status message of a friend from Delhi. This, from a person who is a member of the Fourth Estate, making the blast sound like an item with no news value. Or another event, like a wedding or party, anything that didn’t involve explosives going off from trash cans, 5 in a row, within 45 minutes across the capital city on a Saturday evening killing so many. This, from someone who lives within a few miles of the areas that were blown apart. So does that mean that these acts of terror no longer scare people? Or does it indicate a laid back attitude, from people who think it will never happen to them?

Sitting here, at the other end of the country, people around me don’t seem concerned.

    
    Yes, for the first half hour of the news hitting the headlines of every news channel, people express themselves with sympathetic “tsk’s” and opinionated grunts, curses aimed at Muslims in general and prayers of thanks that it wasn’t them.

And people move on to other pressing issues at hand, the movie or sit com that was interrupted, deadlines or a meal half cooked.

    Have we, as humans lost the ability to react in a more sensitive manner? Have we, as citizens grown so accustomed to these attacks as a characteristic of a multi religious and ethnically diverse country?

    Maybe if reality comes close enough (God forbid), we will know. But as long as it hits a crowded shopping area in another part of the country, destroying lives and property and shattering the present and future of a large number of people, we still manage to go on with life, without questioning, without any answers, without feeling.

    Isn’t someone to blame? Doesn’t someone have to take responsibility? Aren’t we entitled to know that enough is being done to keep our futures safe? When a country is faced with so many blows, aren’t we feeling threatened at the invasion or disruption of peace?

And yet, why are we sitting back waiting for the next?

    Do we have answers to all the questions in life? Or is it just easier to believe in destiny/ karma/luck/time/circumstance/accident?

    We don’t have answers to most of the “why’s” in life. “It can’t be explained! Things just happen!” are two sentences we hear oh so often in life.

    You can attempt to make sense out of the complex situations you find yourself trapped in and turbulent emotions you feel. But you may only arrive at possibilities, not necessarily answers. Possibilities confuse you further and due to the constant demand life throws at you and the frustration of trying to figure things out, most of us try to “move on”.

    What baffles me is, unless you have answers and most importantly, closure, how can you move on?

    I think the phrase move on is used inappropriately by most people I know. Without closure, you can try to forget, forgive and go ahead. But without resolving issues within yourself and with others, there’s the possibility that you will never forget it. Unless you suffer from selective amnesia (like I pretend). But you will never move on. Not in the true sense of the phrase. You’ll end up deferring the pain or confusion to a later date. And with passage of time, details fade, people lose inclination to hold onto things that hurt them. And end up believing they’ve moved on.

    I don’t think I’ve moved on. Not from all the sour lemons that have been thrown at me time and time again. 

    Forgiveness is one thing, forgetting another.

    I’m not one of those great souls who can forgive and play Mother Teresa. I need to resolve issues, feel like I’m in control of those things, or at least have answers to questions. Questions that arise from the void of leaving things unfinished, unsaid.

    Else, it jus threatens to blow over some day. I wait for that some day. The state I’m in now seems like a never ending transition phase. Like purgatory. The feeling that you need to get over so much to get to that better place ahead. IF something better lies ahead, i.e.

    Now I’m just stuck. Sitting, waiting, wishing.

    The best part about being single, is FRIENDS.

    Friends. Who are there whether you like it or not. Friends, who will whip your ass when you’re going the wrong way. Friends, who will stick by you no matter what. Friends who will feel your pain and stand up for you like a fort.

That’s what they are to me. My fort. They protect me. They shield me from pain disappointment hurt. You name it. And they are undoubtedly the best things to happen to me.

    I spend so much of my time trying to analyze my misery and all the things that are messing me up. But, my point is, though I know, the intensity of it hits me, how they’re always there for me. This fact takes me by surprise every now and then. And I mean when I say they are the best things that happened to me.

    You trust someone just because your friend does. And that’s enough reason to. You hate someone just because your friend does. Let me explain that. I’m not judgmental and I don’t hold what they did to a friend against them. I don’t treat them any differently if I’m stuck in a room with them. But the fact that you can feel your friend’s emotions and the fact that you know how much support at that point of time mean to your friend is enough to hate someone. Your loyalty is to your friend. And that is something. They would come anywhere with me to meet anyone if they know I trust that person. And they know because they know I wouldn’t suggest it in the first place if I didn’t trust.

    Many of us are lonely. Maybe among friends there are people who have their shit figured out and all that. But what holds us together is that we’re in this together. We’re alone together. And that’s enough.

    Ever find your eyes meet across a room and you know what the other is thinking? No, don’t think of cheesy romantic movies which I also am a fan of, by the way. Ever find yourselves completing each others sentences? Ever find yourselves saying things halfway and leaving it there incomplete?? The objective of saying anything being to make the other person understand and well they understand it halfway and you just can leave the sentences incomplete.

    Now that is what I call a relationship of the soul. Not just one of convenience. We’re soul sisters. We’re single. We’re unhappy at times. But never when we’re with each other.

    And suddenly it doesn’t matter if you have a man in your life. Because someone else makes you so happy. It’s the perfect relationship. With its flaws. Because u might yell and shout and all that. And they understand.

    There’s no jealousy. There’s no feeling that she wouldn’t know cos she’s better off. We rejoice when our friends dress up and look great. It feels great to make an impact when we walk down together looking fabulous or crappy. Cos lets face it, confident beautiful women together (bad hair day or not), do make an impression.

    We dance together. We sing in our crappy voices together. We try to make sense of our lives together. We’re afraid of our futures. But again, we’re together on that one. We hold each other when we need to and even when it’s not needed. And there’s only one reason for it. We love each other. People find it hard to understand.  But think about it this way. You’re alone and whatever nonsense. And instead of wasting your time on waiting for a guy to call you, think about it. There are people who will call you for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and everything in between. Call you (or you could be forced) to go to hospitals, to go to the amusement park.

    Whatever, wherever, I think I have it going pretty good for me. Being stuck (hehe) here with them. These devils who roam around with halo’s over their heads are the best things that have happened to me.
Screw men.

    So this is what I do. I write.

    People think it’s the most beautiful thing to be able to write well. People think it’s also a way to make money and get attention. People think a million things. But I think writing is something that people who can’t express things well otherwise do.

    Writing is something I do when I have no one else to talk to. I mean, I talk a lot.

But the things I can’t say, the things I can’t express in a conversation, I write down. Maybe no one will read it. Maybe no one will ever know. But it seems enough to me that I write. And the fact that I know..

    People have various ways of dealing with life, love, relationships, loss, success, happiness, grief. This is mine. I suck at most other things in life. Relationships mostly. I am master of none and not even jack of all trades.

I do a lot of things. To live. To be able to go on. But its not enough, is it?

    I don’t express most things out of fear. Fear that people may not understand. Fear that, even if they do understand, they wouldn’t want to stick around long enough to hear the rest. Fear of the million unforeseen consequences. I mean, the possibilities are endless. Then why try so hard??

    My ex-boyfriend once told me that I never told him that he looked good or anything. Of course I denied it. But after a lot of thought, I realized it was true. But it was silly because I was thinking those things in my head, about how good he looked in those shirts, dressed smartly just the way I liked it and let me fold his sleeves the right way. Or how cute it was to see him in boxers n sleepy.

    What I didn’t realize is that those unsaid things mean a lot to people. And that’s not all I messed up in my relationship with him or others. I run when I feel anything taking a step forward. Yes, sex life included. I run when I feel myself getting attached to people. Because the times when I decide to stick, it never works out, or it leaves me very hurt. Broken and bitter. Like now.

    Isn’t running the easier and safer option?? For me, of course. This is my way of communicating with myself, pretending I am talking to someone. Maybe that’s why phone conversations don’t go well with me. Texting works so much better. Because I can think and frame sentences that won’t confuse others or hurt them or leave me looking like a darn fool considering my foot in mouth syndrome. That’s also why I do better at written exams than oral. Very thoughtful you might think. No. Just selfish.

    Because when you do hurt others or confuse them, it is followed by a million questions. And I hate questions. Atleast, the wrong kind of questions. And you also have to work at making the hurt go away. And more often than not, it won’t go away. No matter how hard you try. And that effectively is the end of the relationship.

That’s why It’s easier to have conversations with yourself or write. Cos then you can edit, erase or redo. Words spoken cannot be undone.

     I have been a voracious reader from childhood. People thought that was a great quality. What they didn’t understand was the joy I derived from being lost in another world. And that ultimately led to me writing. Not fiction. Not anything significant. But about my life. The way I see things. But it never took on a serious note. Till the whole blogging revolution.

    As I write this, I still haven’t mustered the courage to start blogging. Why, you ask me. What’s the big deal?? Because I’m not used to my life or emotions, which I keep locked up most of the time, being put on display. But in many ways than one, I think this is the time for me to let people know what I really think. And if no one reads it, great!! You can’t tell me I didn’t try, right??

So here’s the deal. I’m messed up.

And every other friend of mine says, “So, who isn’t?” 

“Nobody knows what they want. Nobody gets their shit right all the time!”

I agree with that completely. But most people I know, atleast know what they want or are going to be doing tomorrow. Others know what they want on a long term basis. Loads of others like me, want the stereotypical things out of life. Namely, happiness, a big house with a neatly tended garden around it, kids (this might vary), a great car, a comfortable life with holidays to exotic locations once a year, a job(or maybe not!) that is productive and fulfilling and yet gives you time for the little pleasures in life and most importantly, friends you can turn to and just a zone of comfort that lets you feel content.

One question has me puzzled for a really long time. Does happiness or contentment mean the absence of sadness? Disappointment? Failure? But we’ll come back to that later.

So people in general know what they want out of life. No specifics, though, if you’ve noticed. We all want these things with slight variations to suit our tastes or needs. But how many of us are aware of how to get there? And if these are their hopes and dreams for the future does that indicate they’re unhappy with the current state of affairs??

I know I am. And I have been, for so long now that I don’t really know what’s normal anymore. For as long as I’ve come to terms with who I am and where I’m from, I’ve been more confused than ever. I no longer know who I am. I am constantly discovering things about myself which is great because of all the time I have to myself. Sometimes you connect certain behavioural characteristics to people and events of your past life and then go, “Oh.”

“Oh”… a syllable. A word. That encompasses so many emotions. It can be the only thing you can say when the guy you’ve been crazily wanting in your head tells you his girlfriend is studying in so n so place and he’s so excited they can be together this summer. It’s the only thing you can say when your bossy and partial professor tells you that the essay you’ve worked your ass on wasn’t good enough. It’s the only thing you can say when your best friends, who you sometimes love more than they love you, tell you they have other plans. It’s the only thing you can say when your mother who favours the first born more than you (me being the second and youngest) says she gave her the top you wanted because the colour seemed to suit her better. But the “Oh” in these situations (which I find myself in constantly) are in the negative.

“Oh” also represents situations where a friend surprises you with a thoughtful gift that you never ever expected from anyone. In such situations it’s the only thing you can say before you bawl like a baby due to a lack of words to express what the gesture meant to you. It’s also the thing you say when you finally find the name of the person your friend’s sleeping with and it turns out you actually know him/her too. But sadly, I cant think of too many happy “oh’s”. What you say when you’re happy surprised is “Oh my God!” “awwww!!”

My point is, there are more “oh’s’ in my life than any other word. Apart from profanity used in daily life. Oh’s silently uttered to myself. Oh’s that I sometimes say in desperate situations when I’m fed up and need the other person to know how I’m feeling. Oh’s of frustration, sadness, disappointment.

Yes. This is me. 20 something. Lonely. Disappointed. Frustrated. Clueless. Confused. Sensitive. Chronic depressive. This is me, out of the mask I donne for the rest of the world. This is me. Being myself. Trying to explain to the world who I really am in the process of figuring it out myself. This is me trying desperately to get attention and trying to get the world to accept me as I am.

This is me trying to tell a story as it is.  Of me and my life.