Life on the singular track-track being all work and no play

She woke up at night breathing hard. Trying not to come awake but even as made the last ditch effort to remain in the world of dreams she knew it was going to be no use. It was going to be one of those nights.

She got out of bed and made her way to the quiet balcony, the dead of the night broken only by the sounds of the grounds of dogs mating happily beneath her window like they did most nights. For a moments she stood there, transfixed, wondering her behavior would classify as perversion…she turned away, she who had gone by the norms of society and family forever, too tired and tied by habit, feeling too guilty of standing at the balcony because she knew her eyes would be drawn to the animals again.

She came back to her room, lit a fag and sat staring into nothingness. The events of the day wouldn’t leave her mind. Today…well it was yesterday now!!! Gosh another year older…hardly seemed likely that she was almost 24 now…TWENTY FOUR!!!

“Fuck man!!! I am old”, she said aloud mumbling to herself. She was a more or less ok professionally twenty four year old. She earned enough to keep herself in relative comfort. She was smart, visibly successful and cute even if she did say so herself. And yet…there was this gnawing emptiness, this god awful vacuum that no amount of work, partying, men or even family was being able to fill. Most of her school friends had married by now…some even had kids and yet she did not find in any of them the kind of fulfillment she knew in her heart she needed.

She hadn’t given in to the pressures of family gotten married. She remained convinced that she would get married not because it was ‘time’ but because one day she would fall so completely irrevocably in love with a person that she would feel the urge to be his forever. Till then she was quite happy to play the game of satisfaction and joy with men that suited her liking.

She knew the feeling she was looking for was the one she had when she was in college…her first love…it had been five years. And yet, she could remember his voice more clearly than she could remember the face of the last guy she had been with. She could feel his breath on her mouth the first time he had kissed her, the way she felt loved, cherished, worshipped in his arms, he loved her when she wasn’t even sure who she had been…a scared kid, eighteen years old and he had loved her and she him.

“Damn it” the cigarette finished and she realized she needed another one…how easily smoking became a habit…a crutch that she leaned on when she was stressed. Heaving a big sigh she told herself that she wouldn’t start feeling sorry for herself. She was a better person than that and yet…the feeling that there was something wrong wouldn’t go away. “Maybe I’m just missing a relationship…or maybe I do need to get married and settle down” she mused aloud.

Shaking herself out of her ministrations, she got up and went to the fridge, wondering about the dream. It had been coming back with some regularity these days. She was an intelligent girl; she knew that dream which woke her up and kept her awake wasn’t good news. She has psychoanalyzed herself a million times and was yet to reach a conclusion.

“I’m just getting too old man”, thus consoling herself, she went to bed, ready for yet another session of tossed and turning kinda sleep.

Beauty is truely skin deep..or is it???

This is a blog post that is pretty close to my heart…and has emanated from an animated three way discussion I had with two of my closest friends- Will call them A and S. The subject matter of our conversation was pretty stilted with both of them taking turns at shouting at me, disagreeing with me and then trying to make me understand a concept so alien to me that I am still having trouble grasping at the tentacles though I think I do get the spirit of what they tried their best to drill into me.

The argument was pretty simple- it was to do with the definition of beauty. I said, my sister cos she is thinner and fairer is pretty and I given the fact that I am not thin or fair am…well…not pretty. A disagreed. The concept of beauty is inside not the outside she said. Not in the preachy tone of “beauty is skin deep’ , but more like its all about how you carry yourself tone. Her belief is pretty simple. The way you look has more to do with your sense of self confidence, the way you carry yourself and a knowledge of your body and what looks good on you.

I still don’t think I agree cent per cent. I mean despite what she said, I know for fact that no matter how good I feel on a given day or how ugly a thin fair girl looks, she would still be fair and thin and I would still be fair and well… not thin. So the point is…our society, the Indian one, or maybe even the world over has certain definitions of beauty. Dark skin is not usually a barometer of that which is beautiful. Ok ok!!! I agree…there are examples like the numerous models in India that are totally dark, even darker than me and are still pretty. But they are thin right??? Im getting all muddled up in my though process, but all im trying to do here is figure out a simple thing. Is beauty about the way u feel…does self confidence reflect in the way of glowing skin? Do we look our prettiest when we are happy and confident and smiling??? Why is it then that all of these women who do not eat at all are still pretty? I mean u cannot possibly be happy on a perpetually empty stomach now can u??? And what about the ‘oh sooo old’ fair n lovely debate? The entire industry dedicated to making us look good cannot just be flying in the dark now can it? There has to be some substance to all of this abuse.

I have way too many questions as ever. But few answers that are most possibly all wrong. Of everything that I have heard about about beauty, the thing that I understand most is that if one is supremely and utterly confident of the person one is, looks and intellect, then no matter what the world (or for that matter mirror) says every morning, everything becomes irrelevant. The idea therefore is the pursuit of that place of utter security, and confidence where one would no longer need validation or approval from others in order to feel good about one self. The idea is to make oneself feel so good about one’s own self that there is no space for anyone else to make you feel inferior. The others including your mirror as well. The idea is to love yourself so fucking much that you would no longer need someone else’s love to feel happy, secure or complete. The idea is to be happy just cos u can. Difficult I know but is it impossible as well??? Im gonna try nonetheless.

The Clones

I’m back…a long hiatus that was…been verry busy. Ok so life is been weird. Pujo came and went, had some amazing moments in Pujo…few romantic ones in there as well actually. J The past month has been pretty happening otherwise as well. Another birthday came and went…a year older and hopefully a little bit wiser. One thing I really felt like doing this was a bitch slap to the world. What this means anyone…any relationship, any event that added extra stress to my already stressful existence is most welcome to leave. I want no jhamela…its just not worth it. The sooner we realize this, the better. Iv quit smoking but I wont lie the urge to sneak a lil one here and there is still pretty strong. As someone told me, the first cig can never be the last. Im only just beginning to understand this. Its tough but I will will quit J oooo and I got my nosey pierced AGAIN!!! It looks sooo cute and I look sooo pretty in it even if I do say so myself...hehehe…next stop tattoo destination!!!

Enough with the updates for those who don even care. I realized I like blogging cos it would allow me to be a narcissist without having to apologize for it. I can talk about myself and all of often random and sometimes weird thoughts without having to apologize for it. This is fun man. I mean I can talk like an expert and ppl wil just have to put up with me they just wouldn’t have a choice…hahhaa!!!

Ok ok! enough rambling about more or less nothing. Coming to the point of this blog, I thought I would write something the nature of conflict that our generation faces on a day to day basis and the problems that this would create for someone like me, a li’l bit of a convert to the so called ‘in crowd’ despite the fact that at heart I think I’m still a little bit of a geek even now.

As progressive as urban society claims itself to be there are still certain targets that each one is supposed to hit for them to be considered a person worthy of a second glance, a conversation or even respect. One would need to dress a certain way, speak in a certain manner, know some amount of English listen to the rock, hip hop, jazz and some other such music. The thinner u are the more sexy u wud be …the more you could throw attitude around the more people would want to be your friend. Despite these there would have to be a ceratin level of balancing, as in attitude which is fake is sooo not happening. Drinking is totally cool, smoking might not be as cool but it is atleast somewhere in the league… someone who smokes up is an intellectual. They are the ones who know the real meaning of life. Im not saying im any better. I feel a certain kind of respect for ppl who can balance the work hard party harder routine, cos frankly im still one of those who would like nothing better to sit at home with a book on a weekend and read and watch TV and just listen my sad music and write some sadder blog!!!

But then that makes me boring. I don’t know the meaning of a good life, the meaning of having fun. Im what people call a ghati… I could not help but wonder however, what about others like me. I mean I could not be the only who in this mad rush called life does not like a mad rush in the weekend or a day off. There must be others who would like to spend time with themselves, cook, clean and just be. And the weirdest thing of all is, if someone was to tell me this, if someone was to come to me and tell me that they spent the weekly off in seclusion, sleeping or doing their own instead of going out and having a ball I would judge the person as being a bore as well. So I am a victim of the same cultural divide that seems to be dividing us all.

We all want to be wanted, desired, look good and feel greater, but in this mad rush of capitalist pleasure are we leaving behind the very crux of capitalist thought-that of being an individual and respecting the individuality that makes each of us different from the others??? Are we becoming clones of one another, programmed to do the same things, members of a crowd, a multitude, programmed to laugh and sneer at the loser who is not part of the gang, feel sad if left out of party invites, like an absolute and total failure if we are not part of a couple but living life as a single in the so called city…I don’t really know how to make sense of all this…but one thing I do know is that it is becoming slowly tougher to distinguish girls one from the other at malls and bars and restaurants since they all dress, act and talk in the same manner. Science is far behind. We are doing the job of producing clones all on our own and doing it well it would seem…

I just wonder at the fruitlessness of it all…I just wonder…