I'm depressed. I want to sit in a corner and weep. Unhappy tears about I don't know what. Just get it all out. I don't know what. I feel useless, unproductive, pointless, lazy, old, wrinkly and FAT. Waaah :( I'm even forgotten how to use exclamation marks. I mean that's how bad things are. I don't know what things. Just things. Sigh. So I thought I needed some alone time, but alone time is making me miserable. I could have got up at 8 and got to this amusement park with everyone else but I cancelled out because I wanted to be on my own waking up at 11 and just doing my own thing. But what I really want to do is just be out somewhere laughing my head off for no particular reason.

bllllllllllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I hate my life. I don't really but I feel like being miserable. I hate my life, I hate everything around me, I hate everyone. No one loves me, I'm going to eat some worms.

I don't want to make grocery lists, and worry about how much dishwashing liquid I have left and how much balance I have left on my Oyster card and whether I should get a bus pass or a train pass or a tube pass or an all-in-one pass. Or how I'm going to get in time for free breakfast everyday from Monday or how I'm going to get in time at all.

I want to pick up the bloody phone and make a few calls but I don't want to. Sometimes it takes too much of a bloody effort to make conversation. I want to just call someone up and just be silent. Supremely silent.

Leave me alone world. Come give me a hug.

it's finally happpennnnninnnnng!! I'm getting maaaaaarrrriiiieeeeddd!! all happened on new years eve- in proper proposal fashion, and life hasn't been the same ever since! i was super excited to begin with - couldn't stop flashing my ring, and then i realised my precioussss didn't match with anything i wore, and so put it away into a little velvety pouch i now carry with me everywhere - it's not on me, true, but it's with me, so don't go raising eyebrows and judging me! so once the exhilaration had died down, the madness began. And how. i decided to quit work in 6 mnths to throw myself into wedding prep with all my heart and soul. outfits and hairstyles and saree blouses and make-up looks and venues and decoration and music lists and invitations and honeymoon and finances and guest lists and shopping for woolens and shopping for everyday wear and shopping for ethnic wear and planning and designing the new home, and stocking up on cutlery and crockery and blinds and durrees and chasing tailors and chasing photographers and researching career options and scouting for jobs online and surfing a million websites for a million things ranging from bistro sets to necklines. And amidst it all, the fights and the tears and the anger and the frustration and the anxiety. But also the excitement and the anticipation and the daydreaming and endless discussions.

Every night when i go to bed i realise how much i'm going to miss waking up to my mum's irritated voice asking me to please please get out of bed, and how much i'm going to miss the familiarity of my desk and the tv room and the dining room and the drawing room and my parent's room and the kitchen and the cupboards and the windows at home. It hits me with a bang that the faces i take for granted are not going to appear when i open my eyes, and that home is not going to be a 15 minute drive away. Yet every morning when i've washed my face and pushed my glasses onto my nose, i hear a eager voice inside me telling me that i'm soon going to have my own pad to do up the way i want to, and the freedom to make my own rules, and the opportunity to begin life afresh. And i hope and wonder and know and wish that the man i'm giving up my comfort zone for , will support me and be with me and love me and respect me for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.

Time will tell. And I look forward to it!

you know how it is when u think that boy likes you? that lil happy feeling of being appreciated and admired- with no compulsion to reciprocate- just the privilege of being content that there's somebody out there who thinks you're pretty or cute or attractive. that unspoken understanding that makes you feel good about yourself. that lifts you up above the crowd and makes the pimples that annoy you a little less significant. it's a gentle ego-massager - the knowledge that someone thinks you're beautiful and that someone out there would love to take you out to dinner. 

and you know how it is when your happy little bubble is burst, and you learn that all this while when you thought he had a secret crush on you, there was actually nothing at all? It doesn't break your heart - no- it makes you feel quite cheated really! and a little insulted and a tad inadequate. and fairly miffed.  and then defensive! How could you NOT have had a crush on me - i mean you had a crush on R and on S and on A and on N and all these OTHER stupid silly annoying brainless women- so what does that make me- NOT GOOD ENOUGH?! NOT CRUSH MATERIAL?! Ouch. Hmph. Not that i wanted you to have a crush on me then- that would have been weiiiird- coz you were one of my best friends and i never thought of you that way- so it would have messed things up ofcourse- but i wouldn;t have minded it either you know - i;d have been secretly pleased- for purely selfish self-indulgent reasons ofcourse - but pleased nonetheless. I'd always thought we'd talk about it 10 years down the line and you'd admit to it, and we'd laugh about it and have a good moment- and i'd feel pretty again and  remember my younger days affectionately. 

But NO! Tht isn't the way it is apparently. You never liked me. How rude! 

i gave up on nostalgia a few years ago - i don't remember why that was though- i think it had something to do with a boy things didn't work out with - i think what followed was a complete upheaval of my philosophy of life, and the adoption of a brand new way to face the world. living for the moment, no looking back on what had passed, dancing like no one's watching, focussing on the present and the present alone, carpe diem, and all that jazz. no time for nostalgia. no time for sentiment. no time to think or analyse. no time for introspection or retrospection. keep moving, that's all. keep moving and smiling. i locked away old photographs, i put away old letters and cards, i deleted old texts, i pushed memories to the deepest depths of my mind. i read The Prophet, i watched The Prophet, and i began life anew.

but life' s a funny thing...it throws back at you people you'd never thought you'd meet again. friends you'd lost who become friends again. Home you'd left that becomes comfortable again. Satisfaction you compromised on, that becomes yours again. Strangers and good conversation that make a dull month interesting again. But life's a funny thing...it doesn't give without taking a little something away...

I don't think i've ever spent the countdown to the new year reflecting- i've always been too busy planning out how i'm going to celebrate. But this year's going to be different. I think i'm beginning to feel a wee bit nostalgic. And I'm not going to fight it.

2008 has been the fastest year of my life.

But it's been the slowest in many ways. There have been too many questions, too many doubts; has been too much uncertainty. i seem to have forgotten what i want from life. i've felt like i'm star of an ekta kapoor K serial for too many months now. i don't know whether i've brought it upon myself or whether it was inevitable or whether i've made a mountain out of a molehill. i don't know whether it's because i've analysed everything to its very soul and ripped it apart in the process. i don't know whether its because i've got so accustomed to restraining myself that i can't let go anymore. i've got so used to digging out the negatives, that i can't recognize the positives. am i so fixed in my views and desires - so fixed on my idea of the ideal - that i can't appreciate anything besides? is it really always my way or the highway? have i actually forgotten how to think like a youngster because i don't want to be a child? Why am i not entirely happy? why do i feel like something's missing? why is there the feeling that there's something just not clicking into place? why doesn't it feel perfect? am i the one standing in the way of my own happiness?

but i'm not like this with anyone else. i'm what you want me to be with you; what i want to be with you. but i can't seem to be- i hate the person i become when i am with you. But there are the good times too. Eating at every restaurant around, sipping coffee at every cafe around, downing cocktails at every club around, walking down every street around, lounging around on every patch of green in sight, shopping at every mall in the city, sitting in every movie hall in the city, travelling in a million cabs, getting fleeced in every ride. The rain, the scorching heat, the ruthless humidity, the dust and the dirt and the fumes and the pollution; the smell of jalebis and singharas and chowmein and biryani. The tears and the anguish, the mindless laughter and the stupidity. Ah yes, there have been the good times.

Work's been a bitch at times, bliss at others. Have met people from all over the world, spoken to a thousand, if not more, odd people, and made friends of a few of them. Been there for the confused, encouraged the confident, yelled at the disinterested, scoffed at the arrogant, made PC, made more than PC, said too much, said the wrong things at the wrong time, haven't said enough, fought for myself, taken shit, kicked ass, made an impression, disappointed some, slogged for others, felt appreciated, felt like furniture, checked out, been checked out, flirted, admonished, groaned, abused, hated with all my heart and made a good time of it. Yeah, work's been a bitch at times, bliss at others.

So, the year ends...and I end it with a toast:

to closures and new beginnings

to old friendships and those new

to lessons learned to home; to family

to good conversation and good coffee

to the laughter and the tears

to the hope and the disappointment

to anticipation

to accomplishments

to bosses and colleagues - the good, the bad, and the ugly

to moments and memories

to the music and the lyrics

to arguments and making-up

to a joke shared, and group hugs

to the new restaurants we've discovered, the new clubs we've hung out at, the new cafe's we've haunted, the new music playing on our i-pods, the new books we've read, the new places we've visited

And the old.

to the people who make us smile and make each day worthwhile

to change

to moving on

to promotions; to placements

to pleasant surprises

to holidays

to FM and world-space

to facebook and gmail

to reunions

to heartache (because it makes us stronger)

to failure (because it makes us wiser)

to the person i am and the person i want to be.

to life as we know it, and life as it could be.

Bottoms up!

To a new year, a new start.

it's strange. i suddenly feel old. i've never felt this way before- maybe it's because my work involves dealing with students (i still think myself a student incidentally- i like the feeling associated with being a student- the mixture of ambition and easy living and daydreams and campus life) - and though i might be a student in my head (oh what a wonderland it is) forever, the DOB- something-something- 1990 - shakes me out of my 'young' world every time I look at a registration form. 1990 - lord isn't he a lil too young for a master's degree- i mean i just completed mine- and i'm early-80s born - TRIIIING- 'you didn't just complete it silly- that was 2 years ago- maybe more- get over it already'. Horrid. I seem to have reached a point where colleagues my age are complaining of pot bellies and fatigue and stray white hair! WHITE HAIR, I kid you not - NOOOOOO- this can't be happening! I'm frightened, I actually am.

Time's winged chariot is hurtling down Runway 5 at break neck speed I say, and I'm so busy smelling the roses, I haven't noticed. You know what -I think i'll skip the ride, stand on the sidelines, and wave to those aboard.

so much has happened in the last 5 months, i don't know where to start! first things first, i can't believe it's been 5 months since it was here last- there was so much that could have been written yet so much that was better left unsaid...so here i am at the end of that road, happy that there was a journey - however bumpy it may have been.

i'm not going to vent- there's nothing left to vent really- the mind and heart has thrashed everything around so much, that it's been beaten to a vapour so fine -the all but visible memories of turbulence that once occupied my every waking moment. Instead, i'll grab those vapours in my hand, and inhale them slowly, letting them sink into the recesses of my mind, where i'll lock them up so that no one ever finds out they belonged to me.

The storm has passed- oh what a storm - i thrilled in every aching moment of it. And after it, the lull. A calm sea that could roar if a stray raindrop fell on it, now undisturbed. Yet, still waters run deep.

I was chatting with a friend a little while ago. He's going to be off in a few months - going away to be on his own for a year or so. We were talking about what it's like living on your own, you know, your space, your time, your place, your kitchen.


My kitchen. It's strange how as teenagers one's always associated the kitchen with a very domestic mother-figure existence; I mean the last thing most of us would do is admit we are even the slightest bit inclined towards anything kitcheny, let alone admit we enjoy it! Especially if you're a girl. Somehow, you always worried you'd get labelled as the 'ghareloo housewife mild boring' type. In retrospect, 18 year olds can be so judgemental na. If you would rather cook than study in high school, you can be rest assured you'll have a few people tell you you aren't ambitious enough. If you're happier pottering around in the kitchen when in college, you can mark my words your parents will start groom-searching the day you graduate! It's us late-bloomers who get away easy. You're away from home, you need to stay alive, and you learned to cook- atta girl! Then you become a hero of sorts in the eyes of everyone back home. And everyone who teased you about wanting to bake n fry n grill is either baking frying and grilling too, or is turning to you for advice on how to bake n fry n grill!


Somehow, the kitchen isn't all that formidable a place anymore. No longer mum's territory. No more 'trespassers will be persecuted' glares. No more sniggering! Perhaps I'm just in a very nostalgic sentimental phase of life, but the kitchen brings back such fond memories. Mornings and afternoons and evenings and nights spent gossipping over boiling pasta, analysing love lives over mugs of hot chocolate, talking about friends and fun from back home over community dinners - D takes care of aloo, P takes care of rice, R handles the veggies, J does the parathas, P does the dal - singing along with James Blunt over a mop and vaccuum cleaner, stuffing an overstuffed fridge with labelled green peppers, screaming noisy crass meaningless hindi filmi numbers in chorus on a tipsy freezing cold night. Making brownies from scratch, making pizza from scratch, making oatmeal cookies from scratch, making 5 kinds of stuffed parathas from scratch, making Aunty Daisy's lemon pudding from scratch, pancakes and honey, rolling puris with a coke can, tossing spagetti on a wall to check if it's done, poking around in the cake and then wondering why it isn't rising, visiting mums and feasts, birthday parties, late night movies on laptops that weren't loud enough, photography sessions that went on for hours, last minute essay submissions, makeover sessions, kitchen wall collages, christmas lights, diwali diyas. I do the cooking, you do the dishes; I do the clearing, you do the wiping; I do the mopping, you take out the garbage; and then we sit together and look at holiday pictures and tell stories and exchange gifts. Or we gush about clearance sales and parade our exploits. Then there's the cute guy at the bank, and the tutor with a smile to die for, or the very hot lab partner, or the fellow who gave you the look in the computer cluster, or a cheating boyfriend, or a long distance relationship gone sour, or a story of unrequited love, or an all-the-way-from-middle-school-to- now crush that went her own way. And you dream. Of a Harvard PhD, a world-tour, a cafe-cum-library, living happily-ever-after.