Sunday Mornings

My eyes flutter open. My lashes are still heavy with sleep and my breathing is still making that transition.

The first thing I see is you, sprawled on your tummy with your face turned towards me. I smile at this very clichéd, very poetic scene: a ray of sunshine is creeping in through my chocolate brown curtains dappling your face with a single streak of light across, your small snores and the fast swish of the fan are the only noises that break the silence of Sunday. Stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason, I decide.

It is comfortably cold, the kind that makes me tuck my toes in securely. I lift my head up half an inch to check if you are cold, if you need a podapu*. But I see that you have purposely stuck your feet out of the covers, one of your many little idiosyncrasies, one of many that come together to make you, you.

I smile sleepily: those moments when you are being you flit hazily through my mind – insistent hand movements that you make when you are talking about someone at work who you specifically don’t like, the yikes face when you realize you have forgotten to do something that I asked you to, the helpless face when I’m crying about family, the smile that sneaks out when you see me search absently for my phone with one hand while the other is clutching  a book which has my nose buried in it, the way you flop onto the bean bag with a thud that always earns a scowl from me….

That thread of thought leads to another, less pleasant one: all those times when I have, hands on hip, yelled at you for things that you don’t do and shut you up with sheer, unadulterated, acidic temper. I immediately feel sorry for you, for having to deal with it… It takes even more out of me because you almost never react till I shut up for good about it. I’m thankful, I’m grateful.

I know if I wake you up now, you will drag me all the way to Church for half the day. So I’m quiet as a mouse, I give myself up to the thoughts flitting around again; they don’t really make any noise, either.

You mutter something about a costing report in your sleep and I say pffft involuntarily – your obsession with work is something that I will never understand. But I have a feeling that I’m mirroring you in my career, I aspire to be you…. That’s gotta be a good thing, right?

I realize that I don’t question this anymore – there used to be a time when my face had a smile for you but my head was bursting at its seams with questions – I don’t know when those questions faded away, though. Have I learnt to go with the flow? Or have things just solidified, like truth or a fact, like how the sun will never rise from the west?

I am overwhelmed, suddenly, when I realize that for once in my life, I’m at the right place at the right time.  I’m where I’m supposed to be. So I touch the wood on headboard superstitiously, silently thank my stars and shut my eyes tight, before snuggling in a little closer. This moment is mine and I promise myself that I will get it right this time.

*podapu: duvet

P.S: NaBloPoMo is obviously shot to hell. Sigh.
P.P.S: I want this to happen to me. Double sigh.
 

NaBloPoMo - Tonight

Tonight, I will be me.

Tonight I shed the inhibitions that society foists on my persona, telling me to be a certain way because it is cool, telling me not to say things which are not.

Tonight I break out of the mould that the world has cast me in, to make me easier to categorize, to fit me into a convenient ‘type’.

Tonight I walk out of the binds of tradition and religion, the chains which wind themselves around my feet – they started when I was a child and now they have become too tight, they hinder my steps, leaps and bounds.

Tonight I shatter the judgments that humanity has cast on me, I rip off the labels and the tags that trail around in my wake.

Tonight I tear apart the stereotype that I ‘belong’ to, I wring out the lessons I learnt to ‘fit in’ and cast away the cloak I hide me in. 

Tonight I step out of the stilettos that society has me wearing, to make my butt look shapelier in the fancy pencil skirt, for they say, a desirable woman should have a shapely butt.

I let the green grass caress my bare feet, I feel the wind rushing through the unbraided locks of my hair, the lips are devoid of the “color-of-the-season”, the eyes are bare and the clothes lack a fancy label.

The feeling of comfort that spreads through my veins, through my person, is a better high than any substance can ever give me. This is the best present I can give myself, to be me.

For tomorrow is a battle I intend to win.

NaBloPoMo - OneWord Prompt: Earrings

Her pearl drop earrings mesmerized him – the perfect curve of her cheek that was the backdrop to the pure, pristine white piece of jewellery seemed to have hypnotic capabilities that he wasn’t capable of comprehending. He had never paid much attention to random women before – just a cursory glance, one that was demanded by Nature and his birthright as a full-blooded male. But this one caught his attention right the first time her dupatta whipped across his face, when he was crossing the road from Forum to Koramangala – a scene straight out of a movie and yet, one that remained with him for a long time to come. 

He will never know her name, her favorite color or the way she likes her tea. She will never even know that he exists. But that brief quasi-meeting would ensure that every pearl drop earring he saw from then on, would take him back to the road from Forum and Koramangala. 

Ah, sweet unrequited attraction.

PC

NaBloPoMo - The Serenity Prayer

Oh Lord, give me the serenity to accept that sometimes there might be another side to the story;
Give me courage to understand that some people are just morons;
And give me wisdom to understand the difference between the two kinds.

I have come to that inevitable point in life when my newsfeed is filled with wedding pictures and even baby pictures, in some cases. My best friend from school tells me that, come February 2015, I’ll be the only single friend she knows and I’m filled with a desire to pump a fist in the air for this achievement of sorts (I do realize that it is not a competition :P). Another friend tells me that I'll be maasi in exactly 8 months. I feel like I'm suspended in a place where all these are alien concepts, so to speak.

The reason for my version of the Serenity Prayer is something else though.

I notice a trend:

1)    Find boyfriend.
2)    Make boyfriend’s life hell with tantrums, post sap on Facebook.
3)    Break up with him three dozen times and get back together with him three dozen times. Restart cycle.
4)    One fine morning, realize that boyfriend is not good enough for you (this will coincide with the time that you complete your post-graduation - at least with people I know)
5)    Get married to an NRI from US/UK/Ireland/Australia/Timbuktoo within the next six months. Or less.

My issue is not with the ditching of the boyfriend – I realize that some people are not cut out for braving a "tough" life (with a boyfriend who might not be settled in life) and are happy taking the easier way out. I also understand that you dated because the age you were at called for it and you didn’t think of the amount of money the boyfriend will have in his pocket by the time you are ready to get married when you were drunk on love. As long as the marriage is happy, I could care less.

My problem is the grieving period, so to speak, after the relationship. Most of these girls are married less than six months after I hear about their breakup and I wonder. I wonder how the fuck they are able to dispense off with the person they fell in love with and promised forever to so quickly and install someone new in their place, someone with big pockets who will gift you MAC makeup and Victoria's Secrets coupons, someone you hardly know.

I know I might be sitting on a high horse and passing unnecessary judgment where it is not required and sometimes it might not even valid, but I find it very unfair to the institutions of both marriage and love that you don’t even pretend to take time to get over someone you said ‘I love you’ to with your whole heart.  

PC

Or maybe none of it was real.
Which makes me so naïve and silly that it is not even funny anymore.

NaBloPoMo: OneWord Prompt - Takeoff

Her feet had faltered when she had stepped in, her head was pounding from the duress she was under. After a point, she had blanked out her thoughts and was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, just to ensure that she could function normally. As normally as she could at the moment, anyway.

She found her spot and sank in, trying to wipe sweat off of her face with cold, clammy hands. All her instincts told her to leave, find the exit and walk way, while she still had the chance; but she grit her teeth and held her ground, she had to be at the meeting or it would cost her company millions in dollars. The door finally closed and a handsome steward went through the mechanical motions of safety and security – but she was shaking like an aspen leaf caught in the hurricane by then.

The procedures were in motion, the flight was second in queue for takeoff. She sat in her seat desperately trying to control her breathing, failing, hyperventilating…. She had never feared flying, initially. Hell, she’d been flying since she was three. The fear had just creeped in from somewhere, she never could pinpoint an exact incident that had led her to her aviophobia.

She was contemplating throwing up when she decided enough was enough, people flew all the time and she was being silly. She had leaned back into her plush seat when the Captain’s voice rang through the cabin: clear, precise and soothing.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Zaharie Shah, welcome to Flight MH370…

And then the flight took off.

PC

Promptlink

The Month That Was.... October '14

There was a reason that I started The Month That Was… series back in July 2011. To keep a track of what happens when so that, when I look back at the year that was, all I see is not just a blur but a clear account of, what my boss insists on calling, hits and misses. I’m thankful to those posts. And I’m restarting them, after a failed attempt earlier this year.

PC

October taught me the art of being patient. AND how. There is something I have been waiting to come through since the month of September (which still hasn’t, btw) and it has taken everything that I have to not have a major meltdown about it. Everything else in life has been put on hold for this one thing but it is like God is waving it my face and saying, “Bitch, please. I have all the control”.
Anyway, I shall probably know something by the end of this month, so you guys will know shortly.

October taught me to endure pain by throwing the very-not-looked-forward-to-aerobics classes in my face. Every cell in my body wanted me to stay in bed and skip out on the next class but I pushed forward. Mostly.

October also saw me reading so much lesser. I invested in the damn Kindle in hopes that I won’t go broke shopping in Blossoms. But what has actually happened is that, the device has been loaded with all the books I want and then stashed away safely in the cupboard. All I have now to show for it is a bigger credit card bill. So much for that. NOTHING can replace paperbacks and hardbounds. Sigh.

October also saw my blog transition. I started researching on revamps for Mr. Phatichar and ended up with a new blog for myself. Two months of head-breaking changes later, I’m so excited to be writing here that it makes me think it is all worth it.

October also left with 200 bucks in my salary account in the end. Which is a first. The balance is usually in double digits.

October saw me fist pumping to be the last one in my school friends gang to be married. I also got news that the girl I had sleepovers with, who got married a few months ago, is having a baby in exactly 8 more months. While I am happy for her, I’m still working out how I feel about it. Not that it is any of my business anyway.

October has been the laziest work month yet. I have OCDs about exceeding targets, this month has been about doing just about what is absolutely necessary. Lack of motivation, lack of direction basically. And I don’t like this attitude which has set in. Working on it.

October saw Mum dropping and cracking the screen of her iPad. I haven’t even finished paying for it, dammit!! Damn you, stupid, careless jostler at Bannerghatta National Park!! October saw me missing family around Diwali for more reasons that just the damn Ghar wali Diwali ad. Diwali day itself was spent moping around and if it hadn’t been for friends who pried me out of bed and shoved a sparkler in my hand, this Diwali would have been worse than my 2012 one, which would be saying quite something.

October has also been about procrastinating. Right from the bathroom slippers that need mending/replacing to a much-needed visit to a doctor, everything has been pushed into November. I have promised to kick myself if I don’t finish everything that’s been pending by the end of the first week. Anyone willing/wanting to assist can drop by my office in Koramangala. No, there is nothing in it for you except the satisfaction of kicking my butt, good and proper.

I also am reeling under the shock of turning the calendar to the last but one page. Figuratively, of course, actual calendars are so passé *slips cool shades on*. WHERE THE FUCK DID THE YEAR GO?? Forgive my violent outburst, but I’ll be entering the 25th year of my existence in less than six months and it feels like I have done nothing at all.

Now that I’m done freaking out, I wish y’all a very happy Movember. Men, pliss to oblige. Women too, if you can bear being hairy for a month. It IS for a good cause.

PC

So Mr. November, how you doin’? ;)