Iris

I lay crying for a long time. A long, long time. For the first time in years, I felt like a failure. His shirt was drenched through and yet my tears didn’t cease.

And he spoke not a word.

Amidst my gut-wrenching sobs, I wished he wouldn’t give me any space now, I wished he would do something to cheer me up, to say that I am wrong to think such things, that I ain’t no failure.

But he spoke not a word.

His comforting presence and the aroma of his woody soap reminded me of all that I had, all that I am. I finally found solace in the fact that even if I had nothing else, I had him. I might be a failure but for now I had him.

And that made up for a lot of things. 

He still spoke not a word.

My sniffles died down and I cracked a reluctant smile... I’d always been this mercurial in my moods swings. One good cry and I could always put it behind and try to get back on the figurative horse. The darkness ebbed as I found courage in the flimsiness of the proof that showed I was a failure.

He finally pulled my face to his and forced me to look at him.

Fresh tears threatened to brim out at the weight of his unrelenting, almost harsh, gaze when he firmly said…

“That is enough. You’re perfect. And you’re mine.”

The problems weren’t solved, the darkness still remained, I was still afraid of the ghosts that haunted me but I knew I was not alone. That someone had faith in me.

“When everything is made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am”

Lucky are those who have someone that has such unshakeable faith in you, especially in those moments when you doubt yourself. 

P.S: Fiction after a long, long time. Not perfect, not even close. But I’m glad I tried.

What can I say, the Goo Goo Dolls are inspirational.

Its surprising, actually...

... How fast time passes by.

How you block out things you thought were most important. 

How much things change.

How many emotions one person can make you feel and not in a good way. 

How there are certain days when the sun shines so bright outside that it hurts your eyes but it refuses to dispel the darkness that tiptoes around your aura threatening to engulf you. (wow, that's dramatic)

How some feelings never change. 

How some feelings change so much that you wonder why you felt them in the first place. 

How long you can go without the things that you loved the most.

How much you can change, as a person, over the short period of one year. 

How different a person you actually are from who you thought you were.

How much effort it takes to put a smile on your own face just to ensure that people don't wonder why you always have a hangdog expression.

How little it takes to fall apart.

How difficult it is to just believe the words that come out of a person's mouth instead of questioning every intention, every thought behind it.

How much you have missed out on in a world that was your world.

How many people, relationships you have had to lose because you do not have the strength to explain. 

How cynical you have become of pretty much everything.

How long it has been since you actually had a bar of good, solid, comforting chocolate.

How small things that you left in the past come back to make you smile.

How much courage you get in knowing that you are strong enough to still want to say bring it on. 

How much happiness it infuses in you to know that someone still needs your shoulder. 

How awesome it is when you can cross the road during peaktime traffic all by yourself.

How brilliant it is to have a group of people who just let you be and make you laugh.

How much hope it gives you that those people might let you call them your friends. 

How much it means to know that someone is trying to make you laugh despite everything.

How high you get on being noticed for having potential.

How much it means when someone believes in you with a steadfastness you have yet to see in others' eyes.

How the person you thought you hated is the only one who really believed in you, fought for you.

How funny Will & Grace is.

How some people have the knack of saying exactly what you want to hear and despite your cynicsm, you believe in them.

How mindnumbingly, awesome sukhapuri really is.

A long way, I have come.

A long way, I have to go.

 

I leave you to drool over this monstrosity from Indijoe's, Bangalore. A cake that almost got me a promotion, one that made me sick of food itself for well over a week.

 P.S: I HAD to write a depressing post before I could move past, so COME ON and cut me some slack, won't you? If anybody still visits this place, that is :D

P.P.S: I lost months of work that I did on my blog and a couple of pages that I loved as well, all because of a tiny mistake I made. Ah well, let's start from scratch, shall we?

I Confess, I Cheated

Do you know what it's like to cheat on someone? Someone you love very much? Someone who has done so much for you, someone who's presence is why you still exist and have some pride in yourself, some self-worth?
One day, everything seems perfect, like you have everything you'll ever need from anyone and the next, you have slipped on the (w)hoary edges and fallen into the icy depths of faithlessness. 


You know it's wrong and the first few times you even try to stop. The guilt eats into your very soul invading your every thought, every action. You can't stop thinking about all the good times you have had, the kind gestures, the joy and the comfort of just having someone to call your own. You can't stop evaluating if it's worth it, if it's worth giving all that up for a few moments of pure pleasure. But once you start, you can't but go on until thoughts cease to exist and only ecstasy prevails. 


But they say, acceptance is the first step to cure. 
I confess, I cheated.


I am married to Words and I cheated. 


It was just one time, one action. I had even forgotten the Pinterest password. I did not even have an account on Instagram or weheartit. I pooh-poohed their advances and used them for my convenience. I used them all to make Words happy. I made Words meet them too, in hope that every time I feel like slipping, I will remember the scene of both of them together and be assured of who was better. 


But alas, they did catch up with me; they lured me in with the indescribable beauty they radiate, a beauty that the secret, crappy photographer in me lusted after. They made me their unchained slave, they brought me to my knees and do their bidding without so much as a bad internet connection... so much as 300 repins in a day. I became a junkie, I was out of control. Looking at beautiful photos from all over the world, funny quotes and out-of-this-world food porn till my battery drained out. No amount of control could stop me from getting out of bed without atleast 20 repins from Pinterest. I craved for Instagram's attention; I started taking pictures like a maniac on weed, JUST to impress her. I even pinned and hearted at the same time. 


Words never said a word. I'm sure he knew, which only made it worse. Slowly, I started making excuses to Words. I said, "I am busy with assignments, I need time to sort things out." Then I started outright lying, "I don't like your new interface, there is a general lull, none of my friends are here anyway." He still never said anything. Every time I opened Blogger, I felt the acidic guilt and the painful sadness of a relationship once cherished. And every time I turned away and went back, coward that I was.


Today, I scrolled down my baby with no intention of posting anything, when the archives' count caught my attention and screamed out at me all the abuses that Words refused to say to me. Words always kept faith in my love, never asked for anything in return. And somehow, like a bolt of lightning, sense prevailed while I realized where my true loyalties lie.


I might slip, I might fall. 
I might even go several miles on the wrong path. 
But I will always come back to you, my love.
For I'm married to you.
And I married you for a reason.


I'm sorry for all the hurt.
I promise to write and make it go away.
I promise to make it up to you any way I need to.
For I know you deserve much better.


I love you, Words.
Always did. Always will.


P.S: This was whimsical, to say the least :D
P.P.S: I know a picture says a 1000 words but without those words how does the picture intend to convey it's beauty to all and sundry? I became a picture junkie for a while but now I'm back where I belong :)
P.P.S.S: This is one way of making it up to Words, not using any pictures for the post :P

An Ode To A Family

*touchwood*

Have you ever experienced the feeling of completeness that a family can give you?

You know the part twenty five years after happily-ever-after? The part that they don'y show in movies or write about in stories?
That's the part when you know that a man and a woman a gentleman and a lady have taken the life that God destined for them and made it a success, a life that they can be proud of having lived, the beautiful family that they made from scratch.

I have had the opportunity to be a teeny part of this family or rather I have adopted myself into theirs.
(In case you're still lost, I went to my bff's place for the weekend and it's their family that I'm talking about)


I love the way they have made it happen, love the way they bound together bits of yarn, wool and all things nice to make their little world cozy. It's not perfect and they don't pretend that it is and maybe that, the fact that they live for themselves for each other, is what makes them so *searching for the right word, none seem to be enough*.


The Father is everything you think of when the word comes to your mind. Responsible, solid, dependable, a wee bit intimidating, honest, respected in every sense of the word, fun, loving, caring beyond all else, typically grumpy when sick, supportive, witty, quietly proud of his daughters, provides guidance not advice... and so very much more. I respected him much before I even met him; it only grew. He is the foundation for their worlds, everything begins from him.
And I keep wondering what he thinks about me, if I measure anywhere near the high standards he's set for his daughters.

The Mother is a copy of mine. Ditto except mine is slightly more harum-scarum and she's slightly more Malayalised. This itself is my greatest tribute to her for my mom is, like, the ultimate to me.
And she treats me no different from her daughter; I say this not because she said it to me (she didn't) but because I can feel it. I can feel it in the way she holds me by my waist and talks to me. Apart from all that, sensible, iron-willed, AWESOME cook (I put on two kilos in as many days, you can imagine), organised, careful, pious, squeaky-clean, ordered are words that do their best to describe her but still fail a little bit.

Sisters to match, a paired set who are complete opposites to each other and beautifully accomplished in their own way but very much a part of the parents. And a muthashi (grandma), who is cute and fluffy and is a vast treasure trove of surprises, stories and tradition.

They have their own ways of dealing with problems, with life, with social situations. They are a unit, a tribe unto themselves.
They are stable.
They have deep-rooted value systems, beliefs that are the DNA of who they are.
They respect. They care. They follow the rules and make some for themselves.
They teach their children. By example.

They are a family.

I haven't done them justice, not even close.
But I'm glad they let messy, scatter-brained me into their lives, even for a weekend.
And if my own family, one that I'll start sometime in the future, is even half as beautiful as this one and mine, then I'll count myself lucky.

*touchwood*

The Small Victories...

A day becomes awesome when a lot of good things that you have been waiting for happen, all together.

Flashback: From when I was a wee li’l thing I have been the type who gets hyper-excited about almost everything. Case of Illustration: Ma says we are going out to get chicken for the dogs and I’m already out, cap on and sneakers tied, even before she completes the sentence. You get the point.

The good part about such enthusiasm is that it’s almost laughably, foolishly easy to make me happy – you point a puppy/kitten/fields of flowers/chocolate bar out to me and I’ll gurgle contentedly for the rest of the day. I manage to pry happiness from almost everything (that makes me a very low-maintenance girlfriend. N, are you listening?:P) And the bad part? The disappointments. When even that small thing you wanted so bad and expected to get, is just out of reach. And the stupidly sensitive fool that I am, I bawl my eyes out every time, even now (ashamed as I am to admit it).

People say disappointment makes us cynical. I demand to differ. Though I have been disappointed n number of times, some big-some small- some life-altering, this enthusiasm to take on life and all it has to offer hasn’t dulled yet and even at times when the prospects seemed bleak and the future, uncertain, I never stopped dreaming about how I’ll make it big.

Not IF I make it big, WHEN I make it big (stupid, daydreaming Arian that I am:P)

When life handed me a big, fat lemon, I sat in a corner, had a good cry and then got up and made lemonade. Dozens of awards slipping away, positions denied, coveted objects deprived of and so much more. But, with the help of the amazing people I have in my life, I moved on to realize that they didn’t matter THAT much after all.

And it is because of those disappointments that I learnt to cherish even the smallest of victories.

Victories like people telling me that they love the way I write and that they look forward to seeing my updates on their dashboard (Anu Krishnan, I’ll always remember you for that), being recognized for my blog, the n number of likes and comments, a followers list that is growing every day; I can only say thank you from the deep crevasses of my wee li’l heart and hope that you all understand what a huge deal it is for me and how much it all means.

These small victories help me go on. Put one foot in front of the other even when nothing else seems worth it. They make me believe in who I am, what I can do. That I can reach out for my dream, catch it and hold onto it tight.

Cut To Present: Getting back to the point (I know, finally. Thank you so much for putting up with the senti rambling), today was awesome because I had two of those small victories and they have made me happier than ever.

1) ‘Love on the Rocks’ arrived (details on why). Solid proof that the Adda people think I am capable of a little more that utter nonsense. I hope I do justice to it. (Is it unforgivably wrong that I loved the bubble wrap as much as the book itself?)

The set, complete with a hand-written poem and autograph,
a letter from Adda and a couple of bookmarks.

2) I got a job as a freelance writer. Not at all a big affair but something that I have been wanting for a long time now. I can’t say much more than WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! (I know, juvenile. But I’m not ready to grow up just yet.)

Anyway, though I’m hardly living the dream, I have enough to keep me going on full steam for the near future and I’m happy being a happy person. Ultimately, isn’t that what all of us want from life?

Cheers! :)

P.S: Chandana, wish you a very, very, very happy birthday girl:) God Bless... And to all the beautiful and 'epic' (:P) things due to you in the years to come! <3
(I tried inboxing you, failed :|)


P.P.S: Spaceman Spiff's blog is a read you'll never forget, especially if you are a Mallu:D. Head over and make sure you go through the archives with a fine tooth-and-comb as well!

15 Day Challenge: Day 6

Four things I want to say but might never

1) You are a/an *. After everything she’s done for you, EVERYTHING, you couldn’t even be decent to her. You don’t deserve the dust on her feet, still she took you in. and this is how you repay her?? You’ll never have my love or respect and I will always abhor you and I will make sure the others do too. I am/will be decent to you only because I have been brought up that way. I have lost count of the number of timed I have damned you to hell and back, even the Jesus YOU believe in will not forgive you. Someday, I wish you find yourself in the exact same position as you put her in and then the cycle will be complete. And that will be my day of redemption, of true peace.

(Note: I’m not usually this vindictive so you have to understand that the party in question deserves every bit of it)

2) You do not GET how much I depend on you, for sanity. I have never told you out of self-preservation because I still haven’t worked out if you are good for me or bad and if you’ll stay by me or desert me like the rest. I trust you still in spite of that one incident and I have always wondered if you feel the same way about me. Either way, you’ll be one of my special ones.

3) Don’t you get it? You are not the next miracle since sliced bread. Much as you like to think so, you are not. If I have put up with you, it’s only because I had no other choice. If I have said anything to the contrary, it was for my own sanity. You think you are popular but I’m still waiting for the day when people get to know the real you. I shudder with disgust and dislike every time somebody behaves as if I like you. Being hatke is good; but just not the way YOU are. The way you’re going? You’ll have all the success in the world none to call your own. Decide if that’s what you want before it’s too late.

4) I will not go on without you. I know I’m not the easiest person to put up with for any given length of time but I promise I will make it worth your while. Not just to prove everybody wrong but more for the things we plan day in and day out. God alone knows what’s going to happen a year from now and He alone knows how this ends (I wish I was as confident as you are) but life as I know it will always have you featuring in the header. Time zones don’t matter, neither does being apart (unlike Simple Plan & Natasha Bedingfield think). You’re still the first thing I think about waking up and the last before falling asleep. And I strongly suspect you’ll always be.

And for the record, I do't mind saying any of these, except the first (for reasons few people will understand), to the concerned people's faces. One thing, never say anything behind somebody's back that you can't to their faces. Grandma's pearls of wisdom, one of the few I actually follow.

* will be the worst swear word you can think of, I refrain because this is far more widely read than before (read: by Mother) and I don’t want to be irresponsible and also because I consider my vocabulary far too mild for the person in question.

6 down, 9 to go! :)

P.S: My blogger awards are ready, finally!! *happyclap*

The Travails of 'Leao'

What is it about love that makes it so confusing and people so frantic??

It’s a whole process, actually, according to what I’ve seen and learnt.

THE FaiRY TALE (sarcastic much?)

Stage 1: The Worm Bait

I realize that I like him a little more that I like all my guy pals for reasons ranging from

1. His Adonis looks
2. His loaded wallet
3. His place in the social ladder
4. His influence on MY place in the social ladder
5. His ‘coolness factor’
6. Because you are desperate
7. Him

(Oh, let’s call a spade a spade. Half, correction, 90 friggin’ percent of the relationships I see around are based on the first 6 reasons. Call me disillusioned/sardonic but that’s the way it is; which is why my respect for those based on reason 7 multiply manifold)


I start noticing little things about him. His hair, the way he talks, pronounces certain words, the way he attacks his chicken leg with all the gusto of a full-blooded Viking to name a few.

I convince myself that he’s ‘The One’.

Then, I turn on the charm. What with The Slinky LBD that is sexy yet subtle, the heavy duty L’Oreal artillery wielded to perfection, the complete personality change (once you find out what kinda girl is his dream girl: sporty, feminine, independent… whatever), the hair-twirl-and-throw-back-head-n-laugh flirting routine – the poor guy doesn’t stand a chance.

(Trust me, this is not just the stuff of self-help books or highly-imaginative M&B paperbacks, not even Tim Gunn’s ‘pearls of wisdom’. This is exactly how it happens in REAL life- I have seen it, you have too… more often than not, we have done it ourselves as well. We just don’t realize it.)

Once the guy is ‘caught in the net of my leao’ (cliché alert), I start reeling my prize bass in. This is the period when I try to get him to realize I’m the goddess of his dreams. The longer he takes the more frustrated I get. I agonize with my ‘bff’s’ on what the best course of action is, what accidently-on-purpose incidents should happen, what clever things I can say to impress him: the whole he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not routine.

(All this happens depending on how long the guy takes to say ‘I love you’/ ‘I really really like you’)

Stage 2: Reeling the Fish In  

He does The Deed. He ‘proposes’.

(I have issues with the word ‘propose’. Guys we go out with don’t propose, they just express their love – for lack of a better expression. Propose is when he goes down on one knee, says you’re perfect and asks you to spend the rest of your life with him. I go along only because I don’t have a good enough replacement for the word)

I say I have to think about it (because if I say ‘yes’ immediately I’m branded an ‘easy catch’)

So I come back home and jump on my bed, sing a few songs (Bollywood ishtyle), call my bffs up and go over the details nanosecond by nanosecond. Leave him hanging there for a while and he’ll get what a catch I am.

Note: *grimace*

A few hours, days or weeks later (depending on how heartless I am or how hard-to-get I want to play), I call him/ meet up and amidst much *emotion*, I admit that I like him too.

We decide that we’ll give it a try, we might not work out so need not let EVERYBODY know (because we’ll look like fools when it’s over: not IF but WHEN), we have to be careful, we have to keep ‘open minds’ etc etc.

Stage 3: Quality Time Getting To Know The Fish

The ‘relationship’ is in progress.

Sleepless nights (not because he ‘sapnon main aake, mere neend ko churata hai’) making business for Telecom companies. The meeting up all over the place. Lavish birthdays and Valentine’s Day presents which are expressions of our love (provided the occasions come during our ‘together’ period). The small fights which we so desperately make up after many tears and ‘I can’t live without you’s’. The gazillion photos we take of us together (by ‘us’ I mean faces, clothes, feet, shoes, socks, hands etc for the benefit of friends and Facebook: there are also a set of ‘secret’ photos that we think nobody knows about). The bills of CCD when we’re bonding over coffee.  

(I always wondered why its 99 bucks and not 100, like who are they trying to kid?)

Stage 4: Realization that the Fish is Rotten

This is the part I realize that he, most certainly, is NOT The One.

(Read: I lose interest.)

Happy Realization.

“One you start disliking somebody, everything they do begins to annoy you” –Facebook like. True fact.

The fights that used to be so earnest and the cute making up that happens in Stage 3 turn dirty. My impression of him being perfect fades. I pick on him every chance I get, become jealous and possessive or distantly mocking just to drive him into frustrated rage (because they are sure-fire ways of getting rid of him). I become cold and unreceptive to his confused efforts to make up.

All the things I changed in myself to please him revert back. I hide under the post-modern phrases of ‘maintaining who I am and not changing for anybody’ and ‘my individuality’.

I complain to the aforementioned bff’s that he’s changed and that he wasn’t honest in the beginning about everything. Or that he’s too possessive and doesn’t give you freedom. Or that he’s just using you. Or his friends are less-than-perfect. Or whatever.

(There is a Long List of Reasons to choose from)

Stage 5: Throwing the Fish Right Back In the Water

It’s either a clean break where I stop taking his calls, refuse to meet him and reject his friends’ efforts to patch things up between us (this is when I don’t have the balls to actually break up with him to his face).

There is also the ‘We have to talk’ route where I proceed to explain to him why we are not ‘working’ anymore. Reasons:

• I don’t feel the same about you anymore (the most honest approach)
• It’s not you, it’s me (the slimy approach)
• We are not right for each other (the diplomatic approach)
•  I need more that you can give me (the bitchy approach)

And so on (you get the point).

The third way is the one in which I get HIM to dump ME (by being the exact opposite of what he wants me to be; I know him pretty well by now so I know exactly what annoys him). This way my rep is undamaged and I get to play the poor, sad, broken dumpee to his evil, heartless dumper.

(Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the sneakiest pig of them all.)

The Not So Happily Ever After

Chances are, we part ways hating each other’s guts and doing as much damage possible, never to talk again. Sometimes, we remain at-arms-length friends. Very few times, we both accept that it was nobody’s fault; it was a passing phase and not the REAL thing and realize that we are much better off as close friends.

If the guy is lucky, he gets off with minimum damage to his senses. If not, he’s disillusioned with life itself. If he’d invested only as much in the relationship as me, he gets off with experience and a couple of unforgettable memories.

(The whole process takes from three days to a few months – six at the most depending on the people involved.)

And the whole thing starts all over again after an appropriate 'mourning' period where I swear off guys and be 'single and proud of it'. 

If economic depression and inflation is a vicious cycle then this is what?=D

And then there are just random stories…

We meet, we fall in love, we go soft in the head against our natures.

I’m pliant, I bend (over backwards, sometimes). And I never regret it.

We fight, we make up, we fight again.

I call him names, I give as good as I get. I throw things. I swear I made the biggest mistake getting together with him.

I spend hours looking nice for him. But know that even if I turn up in a burlap sack and sea-weed, he’ll still say “You’re beautiful”.

I rail at him for things he doesn’t do for me. But secretly count my blessings that he chose me. 

I trust him enough to tell him my worst fears, my biggest goof-up’s, my unattainable dreams, my weird obsessions - only to have him laugh at me. And then tell me I over-think things. That I’m perfect the way I’m.

I get excited more about a ten-buck pani-puri from the road-side he buys me than the 2000 buck wallet he gifts me. I value it for longer than the wallet.

I listen to his dreams and never judge him. I listen to the stupid stunts he pulls off and still don’t judge him. I see him making a fool of himself and STILL don’t judge him. Because he’s perfect and judging him doesn’t even cross my mind.

I realize he has a lot of faults. He realizes I’m outright cuckoo-crazy. And we both fight bitterly over it. But we just can’t go to sleep without saying good night, however hard we try.

I don’t listen to a word he says. But he’s always there when it falls apart and I find myself out on my ass. He says ‘I told you so’. But he’s also there with my crackle and tons of sympathy while I bitch and rave. Best part? He raves with me=).

I never tell him I appreciate him and the small but hugely significant things that he does for me. I expect him to know.

He sits awkwardly outside the parlor while I’m getting my eyebrows done and doesn’t complain. I put up with all the guy-jokes and the game-talk and try to like and understand it.

I scream insults out knowing how to hurt him but secretly hurting much worse inside.

I feel bad about not being able to do as much for him, the right to much, much more – I know he deserves it.

I tell him I flirt with other guys, secretly happy that he cares enough to get wildly, blindly jealous.

I value him and everything about him.

I assert my independence and say he shouldn’t make me change ANYTHING and should put up with EVERYTHING, if he truly loves me. And secretly pray really, really hard that he thinks I’m worth the effort.

And after all this wringing, he still loves me. He sometimes understands and sometimes doesn’t but he still loves me with all his heart, unconditionally.

And though we question it a hundred times every day, we both know we are forever because we just ‘clicked’. And we’d do anything to make it work.

P.S: Indutty and DJ, this one’s for you.

P.S.S: Guys don’t have to grin and sit back and say ‘I knew girls are like that’. It’s EXACTLY the same for guys in both scenarios, minus the drama.

P.P.S: The stages and the reactions vary with different people. This is just a general overview.