To Delhi

Here's to the city of roadside dhabbas, kulfi faluda, dolled-up women, wintery mornings, innovative abuses, garam chai, imperial ambiance, selective chivalry, vintage chaos and branded luxury...Here's to Delhi- where people don't need a regional language to bond-it's just a mind-set adoption- Happy 100!

Keep calm and embrace 30

A plethora of 30 somethings around me does'nt bother me anymore and that is what the paranoia is about. Have I overnight made it to their invitee list? Am I that old? Still struggling with a home between a bachelor pad and a household, I certainly don't qualify to swipe into a room full of people who seemingly are facing a mid-life crisis. Also, I am ok attending a string of weddings now, walking pretty in a pair of golden heels but  I will hide under my bed for 2 days at a stretch the moment I get invited to a baby shower..eeks! I like the bubble I live in and am extremely wary of people from that part of the world who insist on bursting it with their tales of horror. Their version of reality is different from mine and I prefer not to get corrupted before time.

However strangely my first strand of grey hair had me puzzled in front of a full length mirror (now thats an oddity because I usually stop thinking when I look into one..ofcourse I'm not saying that I'm vain). Neither was it the time to introspect given that I was running very late for work on a Monday morning..but what the heck..life does'nt give us too much time to ponder so make the most of it. Would I someday be part of the TG for an Excellence Creme Loreal? I mean I love the way they pronounce it, but it has never had anything to do with me. Did I fear the sequence of numbers so much? Well...My stomach did a somersault when people sent me anniversary wishes, I choose not to update my relationship status on facebook, My ability to handle corny couples is as good as making an attempt to write with my left hand, I love the fact that I have some friends who are still single and ready for a Sunday brunch unlike others who have to entertain their sister-in-laws.... is it me who should be worried about a quarter life crisis instead? 

And with this my flaky self gets a grip..for now I see the 30 somethings fumble and fall in order to gradually come to terms with whiny babies, responsible fatherhood, home loans, a bad divorce, fewer late-nighters, unending singledom or an entrepreneurial venture. After all, we all take our own time shifting gears. And you can never be ready for the next dart thrown at you. In the light of this realization I shall awaken the sensitive and empathetic spirit in me and vow today: 1. I shall get rid of my habit of referring to people who have kids (1-7 yr olds) as uncle/aunty (its just out of habit and I definitely don't mean to mock them and no I don't call them that on their face) 2. I will not judge their one night of drunken fun at a pub as a desperate attempt to be cool; they have all the right to reminisce. 

Ain't I glad I have a long time to go:)

P.S: I've decided that I will not cover all greys. I like the graceful salt and pepper look. Age is but just a number-Aniston's living proof!

P.P.S: (hmmm... I'm sure she uses hair color..puts me in a fix again...damn!)

Matte-effect

Off late I've been noticing that people gawk at me the moment I happen to mention that I did not move away from my parents to enjoy an independent patch but instead that I happen to use a word for the lack of a decent enough synonym in first-person narrative: 'Husband'. I've been trying to second guess the reasons for their display of amazement which comes through side-head-tilts with a thought blurb saying 'ohh poor girl she must've been caged and forced to marry' or a nod in slow-mo hinting at 'these kids they don't quite understand the complexities so far' or a faint smile which says 'dive into the well sweetie, we're in it together'.

You see, the days of ramrajya are only partially over in India and that has left us confused. I'd have to admit that  I do feel deeply indebted to my partner for his towering tolerance of my pre-menstrual tantrums... his age, title or car has nothing to do with the respect he earns. We carry forward traditions and certain rituals because it gives us a reason to abandon monotony for what seems like milliseconds and celebrate; the original intent behind these, remain imprints in thin dusty books which are cleaned and chanted with utmost devotion at x.pm. Face it, marriage today is not that sacrosanct an institution for the sake of it and thankfully so. But we are at crossroads where a tiny red dot on your forehead, a gaudy red set of plastic bangles or a warm domestic smile are trademarks that a set of people clandestinely look for. At the other side of the street there exist 30 somethings who scoff at giving their space up. Post 10pm when they get back from their plush MNC wannabe gleaming sky-scrapers, sucked out of all energy they like to enjoy an hour at the gym for which they get expensive plunging Lycra necklines in the hope of finally raising a few eyebrows or maybe they need some 40 solitary minutes with a drink while they plant themselves in front of the TV. Ok this might be a wee bit exaggerated because there are others too who move off to a different trajectory and enjoy yoga vacations in the mountains till the others around them dawning white decide to dawn red. I've seen quite a few and by now have a 'dating won't help' theory. Let me explain: It takes three to four years for the numbness to set in...the numbness that the big bad world bestows on fresh college graduates, cut-throat competition induces objectivity and reduces faith, we unlearn a few things- to share, to smile and to cut some slack. The first few years we are still soft clay, we can be cast in the mould we choose but as the years multiply, cynicism takes over. And most end up fixated and over-opinionated used to doing things their way that they will make no tweaks for someone to fit in. Changing their bed side would amount to re-jigging their lives. Tired they make their way into matrimonial columns or take dart shots at others who've got company for a cup of tea and refuse to invite them because of their constant cribbing.

Its not that married people don't want to relive singledom... if you leave it to them they'd like more frequent Sunday brunches with girlfriends, half-a-day to cool off while watching Neo Sports, drunken nights without being mothered around and a lot of them still hide their rings when they're dressed up to the nines. 

For the eligible singles whats more disconcerting is that TinselTown begins to lose all shimmer when you're grooving with Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber. And for those few women who're still looking to find true love..don't give up hope...just get out of Delhi!

What is life..so full of care

The single most depressing lesson in every child's life is 'Evapouration'. Suddenly clouds don't remind us of candyfloss, or cotton-balls. Rainbows are no longer magical. Enchanting becomes a dinosaur...a rare breed.

There is a corner in my mind where reality is not on the driver's seat. Where polka dotted mushrooms, beautiful bridges dotted with flowers across blue rivers, a wishing well, colour-changing birkin bags and an elevator to the land of happiness all exist. Lately however my wand does'nt seem to be working at the right time to help me transcend to this state of utter leisurely foolishness. The flowers...I see them... but I don't get the time to notice two pretty pink and yellow butterflies playing alongside. A cup of tea in the rain needs to be orchestrated. And you feel sheltered in flights... thankful that network providers don't operate there.

Is it me, or is it that times are changing really fast. I don't hear of tooth fairies anymore and fantasy has taken the 3D route... Goodbye Lego! ...Silver aluminium foil amused me as a child, naivety it may be, but it put a smile on my face. I've seen enough, and the world is now seen by the eyes of a sadist. Little joys disappear and make way for colourful paper bags. Sadly the only time you can afford to put the ringer on silent is when your mother calls out of concern, your sibling calls for advice or your husband calls just because he misses you.

Your life now has a ring-master who lets you out for a stroll once in a while to enjoy your almost-natural surroundings. Then you let it sink in and you realize that... nothing can ever be a bigger whoopie than the first time you sat in an airplane..not even that Ipad, that friends made, as you tread the beaten path will never hold as sacred a place, that sand under your feet is a great feeling, that marshmellows and chocolate can still make feel you content, that power-cuts would never be as much fun with the invertor, that sleeping under the stars on a warm night was a brilliant idea and that back-to-back movie plans still get your pulse racing.

W.H Davies embeds the thought just so neatly!
P.S Live well, Laugh often, Love much. If you feel you're not being fair to yourself..Quit. Remember: To quit and to fail are not the same.

Untitled

Some of the best decisions in life are taken by you right after you wake up, in front of a clear mirror and with a foamy toothbrush in your mouth.The moment you start working up the lather around your teeth, your thoughts suddenly seem carefully pronounced and clear as crystal. Most people do not fully recognize how insightful and enriching this experience can be.This is the one time when you get out of your mental comfort zone, heave a few sighs, draw a breath of fresh air and then take the plunge back into monotony... To this extent it can be defining, for the rest of the day, for the next one month and sometimes it may even span a lifetime... this is my attempt to illustrate just how defining it can be.

It may be the time when it strikes someone that the dinner date they are going to spend the day dressing up for is not what they really want. It may also be a time when you stop sulking about your job and decide to register the domain name for your new web venture. A time which has you making phone calls to say your thank-yous and your sorrys. Or a time which helps you heal and move on after a thousand tears were shed the previous night.

What you achieve after this dental devotion may not be monumental but it in the least helps you handle disillusions. 'brushing your worries away' now has a very literal meaning :)

Superficial cravings

What we haven't been taught is learning to love. But can we be blamed if we were ushered into an era where soccer was marketed to a point that it became glamorous and where the hemline of your skirt was discussed more than any sundry talent that you may possess. 

Unconditional like voyeuristic has assumed a larger definition, more in lieu of unreasonable. Drama dictates our lives, for technology inflicted boredom which it frequently attempts to crowd out by more apps and innovations, can more satisfactorily be broken by external manifestations like a fit of rage or glittering pools of tears. Happiness then gets subsided into one of the many ingredients, sliced and grated, and put aside to be sprinkled  whenever needed.  

You exist in emails and conferences, in a 1 para write-up in a magazine placed in as a filler between the advertorials or at a party over a glass of wine. Of course sitting by the window on a moonlit night, mulling over whether you should get out for a walk doesn't let you derive the pleasure of existence. 

Selflessness is now defined in various proportions. And it leaves many of us wondering if our parents were deeply disillusioned or supremely insane when they chose to become private chauffeurs and  part-time cooks to see little blotches of human flesh jump with joy. All this, when they did not know if the tiny fairy will sit pretty with silky commercial-worthy hair or be so repulsive as to make others draw out pitiable laughs. 

Also our cosmos does not operate by the same set of rules now. Truth can be debated, as many truths can co-exist. Subjectivity is the order of the day. I cannot be cursed anymore if I decide to break-up with my boyfriend if he gets his head shaved without giving me a clue. The same way a man can justify his extra marital tryst with the girl who smiles too much because his wife became an oaf. 

Love loses meaning backstage, while under the spotlight we still wait for a prince charming. Why should he be bothered anyway if all we have on offer is company for- those trips to the mall, Friday movies or luxurious vacations. What if hes signed up for a companion; one who can- listen to a soulful song in his crackling voice, greet him with a warm hug when he is too tired to take you out and give him the remote when hes gets restless. If that happens, we're screwed!

P.S the waters are draining out. Shallow will soon take over.

 

Perfunctory Pain

Think yolk yellow, sorbet pink, galactic blue or neon green and you're thinking of it all together or side by side; very few picture these in isolation. Life is preferred in ombre, with a tinge of teal, a dash of shimmer and a hue of eggplant purple thrown in as accompaniments.

And yet people are stunned when an Eighteen yr old doesn't have an answer to what he/she wants to do with life. And it leaves me aghast when Indian employers mock at the mention of the word sabbatical.

What are most people in their mid-twenties doing? implementing, taking down minutes of the meetings, hearing out why that new innovation will take a toll on efficiency, backing up meaningless ideas with data and hypothetical rationale, finding out why whims are more important than consumer insights, taking inputs from peanut-sized-brains whose claim to fame is 'colour-sorted' spreadsheets or simply making presentations on things of extreme gravity which get buried in unopened emails. And then theres the afterclap, with shriveled hope they go about doing the motions which define life as they know it, which is a never-ending wtf moment, interrupted at times by a series of blahs.

That's what a burn-out is-- not the extra hours under dim lights in front of a laptop or the living out of a suitcase-- it is a clan of imbeciles sucking up the fire between 9am to 6 pm everyday. Well there certainly is many a slip between the cup and the lip; this was not my answer to what I want to do with life. But if we really noodle around, there can be no one answer. After all, Why should your gusto for measurability and returns to cost hold you from researching hand-looms or writing a book on life with its confections that most women dream of or creating a curriculum for crazy minds.

If only people like 'death'* (*I'm referring to Terry Pratchett's Mort) are kind enough to an apprentice... I would hop around more often...for I know unlike my job, my life is not watertight.