Journey
She had disillusionment in her heart, and dreams in her eyes. She was anxious and filled with trepidation; she questioned her decisions incessantly, but her mind was without fear.
She put one foot forward and then, slowly, another. And then another. She looked back a couple of times and nearly turned back. She kept walking.
Her feet were torn by thorns, she was muddied by slush. She kept walking.
Determination gritted her teeth, and clenched her jaw, as the baggage she carried weighed her down. Tears, sweat, toil, turmoil... she just kept walking.
Till she arrived at the most gorgeous countryside. Flowers nonchalantly sprinkled across the grassy greens, spring brook babbling nearby, whistling winds, chirping birds and a singing heart.
Now she skips gaily. Oft she stumbles, but up she gets, and skips on. Little hidden pebbles trip her, snakes in the grass dart across her path, and sometimes the tall grass obstructs her view. But still her heart sings, and still her feet skip. Sometimes she yearns for what was, and what couldn’t be. But still her heart sings, and her feet skip. And her mind is at ease, and still without fear.
She is in her “happy place”.
Happy First Anniversary in Chennai, Reveur.
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Polite
Dear Fuckface,
No, I am not interested in what the world has to say about me (although all of my self doubt stems from “what will people think”). No, I am not bothered that people will “get the wrong idea” with me driving a small car. And I am especially not concerned that I don’t have the resources to be a society lady, mostly because I’m not interested in being a society lady.
It doesn’t matter that I’m not rich. I doesn’t matter that I sometimes have to deny myself a night out because I don’t have the money to spend. It doesn’t matter that I have to go over my finances every single night, or that literally every rupee has to add up. It doesn’t matter that I oftentimes feel 55, balancing all the different factors I have to. And it doesn’t even matter that it furrows my forehead as I sleep.
What does matter is that all of it is mine. Only mine. I haven’t had any help getting any of it, and I have worked fucking hard to get every tiny atom of what I own. Long days, longer nights, and most often, weekends too. But that doesn’t matter. I would rather have my one small item that is the satisfying result of sweat and toil, than two kazillion things that my mommy bought me.
Right now, I have happiness. I have contentment. I have satisfaction. I have a loving family (too far from me), a bunch of awesome friends, and most importantly, the beginnings of belief in myself. Luckily for me, I have not too much faith in materialism. Fortunately also, I have no time (or patience) for judgment from a sorry sod.
So instead of passing opinionated crudities that stem from an incomplete evaluation of someone who doesn’t even care half a hoot for you, how about you try something new for a change? Try taking a good, hard, long look at your pathetic, penniless, dismal self, and evaluating that instead. Attempt partying with your own money, instead of with pocket money from mamma, and in the process, try teetotalism for good measure. Make a list of things that YOU have bought your mom, and a list of things YOU have bought yourself, you shit-faced cork-sucker. And for god’s sake, get a life of your own, instead of even wringing out even the little that your mom has left in her – you’ll be demanding her nipple day after tomorrow, at this rate. And no, don’t expect that it will be laced with alcohol.
Tomorrow, when your whiskey/rum/vodka tinted glasses are off, try not to cry when your reflection sniggers at you and spits in your face. Seven years ago, when you were my age, you didn’t think you were going to end up quite so tightly wound in your mother’s dupatta, did you, you warty wretch? I mean, if you had to nuzzle closer to someone tighter, wouldn’t it have helped you if you had tried kissing ass at work instead? Now your poor mom (who loves you to death anyway) is saddled with her beautiful, spoilt, single, loser son, who reports in at work, to people five years younger than him.
And that, you pimple-faced, ugly, miserable, two-bit sonofabitch, is more a mark of (lack of) success than my small car is.
Sincerely,
Reveur.
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Remorse and Other Stories
Since when have I become this snappish, irritable person I was today? I don't like it one bit. Girl-who-I-snapped-at, I know you will read this, so please accept my apologies.
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It has been three meals since I ate anything. Rather, anything substantial.
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I just realised my home is where I live. My Bangalore home is still home, and I love it just as much, but it's not MY home. I get strange pangings for my little haven here. Strange, huh?
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As much as I don't believe it, it HAS been three months. Jesus Christ!!
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Uncle: Your mom said you've grown up. She seemed pleased
Reveur: Really? I'm pleased too. That's a big thing, coming from here.
Uncle: Yea. Just don't sober up too quickly.
Reveur: Hah. Like THAT will happen. Want to come home and see my mini bar?
Uncle: Sure, that'd be nice. You got any whiskey?
(My mom's brother)
~
In the next couple of days, I will be doing one of the most difficult things I've EVER had to do. And that means choosing the right thing, over the thing I want to do most.
Wish me luck.
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Finding My Roots
My dad thinks I require intense hospitalization. My Wife can’t believe her ears. My mother thinks I’m fibbing. My sister-in-law told my mother I had got to be kidding.
But it’s the truth.
I entered home on Saturday evening at 6:45 pm, and didn’t even put my little toe out of the doorway till 9:15 this morning. Which means that I:
(a) didn’t party on Saturday night, and
(b) Didn’t step out the entire day on Sunday.
Hah. And they say I’ve got wheels instead of feet.
Hah!
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Mannequin on the move
Over the past three days, I have spent more time on my hair and face, than I ever have in my entire lifetime.
About two weeks ago, I was requested to pose for a couple of snaps for a chain of beauty parlours, because of the way my hair looked. Despite my immense fright of the camera, I agreed then, little knowing that it was going to be such a large-scale affair. The entire thing had seven professional models (from Bangalore, Chennai and Mumbai), and involved extensive shooting of different “looks” and attitudes for the camera. And then there was me. (gulp)
On Tuesday, my hair was trimmed a bit, styled, and highlighted with copper streaks. (Aside: the next day, the colour resembled henna-ed white hair, but it’s settled now, phew) I am pleased to say that what they did was not far from what I already have on my head, which I take to mean that I naturally sport the “attitude” they chose me for. (grin - cheap thrills)
And my shoot was yesterday.
Modelling has got to be the most mind-numbingly, excruciatingly boring profession in the history of mankind (though I can think of others that come pretty close) My day began at 6:30 am, ended at 6:30 pm, and involved two hours of make up (what magic those few little boxes and brushes can create!) an hour of hair setting, and several hours in front of the camera, posing.
The two most dreaded words: Act natural.
I must admit I felt pretty pampered though. There were always two people hovering around me – one with a can of hair-spray, and the other with a make-up sponge. And people tending to your every need, offering you pretty clothes to change into, straws to drink your water with, etc. Even if I was on four-inch heels, sticking various parts of my body out, and grinning just so every two minutes… it was rather cool.
My co-model was a total hottie, established already in this field. Completely my “type”, and so utterly gorgeous in the formals he was sporting. Mmm…! And we got on well too, so heh heh. However, the rest of the people in the fashion industry leave tons to be desired. I have never been in the company of so much artificiality, I swear. Darling's, air-kisses and label-throwing are rampant, ad oh yes… name dropping too. Chee.
But it seemed worth it, I think. For a brief while, I had flawless skin, perfect hair, and perfect clothes. I simply loved the way they made me look! I only saw two of the snaps that were taken of me, and they weren’t too bad. (I hope the others are better, though.) I have been warned that I will begin to get more offers now, but I will perhaps not take any of them up. This is not an industry for me.
But I am still going to be the proud owner of a bunch of awesome snaps of myself!
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THIS is why...
People nag you to talk about what’s worrying you. When you do, they either can’t listen, or they get upset. I mean…. WTF!!
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Learnings
The worst discontent is the kind you cannot place your finger on. Which makes you feel guilty, ashamed and ungrateful for feeling it. It’s a disquiet that none but yourself can identify as discontent.
The worst loneliness is the kind you feel when you’re physically with someone, but feeling seven oceans apart.
The most piercing pain is the kind that stabs your eyelids and the bridge of your nose, when tears are cliff-hangingly close, but refuse to fall.
The worst regret is to know that you could’ve, but didn’t.
The toughest, most effective obstacle to anything is you.
The most tearing decision is between doing what you need to, and doing what you want to.
The bravest thing is donning cheerful nonchalance when every part of you wants to either explode, or just collapse.
Ironically, the best compliment is when you’re told you’ve never looked happier, as you emerge after crying inside the bathroom.
But the best thing about hitting rock bottom is that there’s nowhere to go but up. Hopefully.
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Twenty seven days, twenty seven things
~ I just realised it has been twelve weeks. That's three months. That's just a little scary, though I'm simply not scared.
~ I lost three months work from my system last week, and am strangely indifferent about it.
~ I now belong to a political party - the DMP. I head it.
~ I have only cooked four times since my last post. Therefore, I am now a huge butterball.
~ I was gifted three new mugs and one new coffee-scented candle.
~ I took off for a weekend in Pondicherry with my Wife. I drank beer every single meal, and slept like "a big fat bee".
~ I have had a phone conversation iwth my brother an average of once every three days. I don't understand it.
~ I was called incorrigible. I like it.
~ I succumbed to the Wife's coaxes, and joined an online community. Something I have NEVER done in my life before.
~ I have discovered that I am a dead person inside me. Nothing really affects me. Except self-doubt, which I am told, consumes me.
~ I have also discovered that I am a chronic weekday insomniac. Monday-Friday, I sleep terribly; Saturday nights, I hit the sack like a ton of potatoes, till Sunday afternoon.
~ I discovered an old, old acquaintance from Bombay, and renewed contact with him. He found me, really, but I'm just as happy.
~ My hair is now long enough to be braided. I have (re)discovered the joys of a french braid.
~ I am going to be a model for a parlour chain that's making a makeover video. I will get many free treats, and turn out looking gorgeous. Yay.
~ My beautician told me my skin has no hope, and assured me a seat there once a month.
~ As a result of one visit there, my face now consists of three evident craters, four big zits, eight ex-zits, and thirty million wells on my nose. But my neck is like Malaika Arora's. So there!
~ I realized I am a fairly non-judgemental person. I’m certainly not opinionated. And I can perhaps attribute that to the lack of a chip on my shoulder. Thankfully.
~ I have the bestest, etstest, estest family ever. When I'm low, my mother calls me to tell me about a fart machine to cheer me up.
~ For three days, I have been revelling in rain that's taken over this city. I am a water baby.
~ But I can't swim this summer. In fact, after taking one look at that seedy pool, I almost wish I didn't know how to swim.
~ I discovered a superb shop that sells pre-cut, uncooked veggies. Life is going to be SO much simpler. And tastier.
~ I have become a snappy, irritable, negative person. I want to stop being that.
~ I have started informal Salsa and Spanish-speaking classes with two gorgeous Columbian singers.
~ I had no electricity for two days because one entire phase to my apartment block, blew.
~ This week is moving slower than a snail with a limp. I have been on Friday since Tuesday.
~ Haplessly, helplessly broke.
~ New attributes: Baby Monkey, Child-woman. I like.
PS: Yes, I shall blog more often henceforth.
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