Zsa Zsa Zsu

As I sat there watching Sex and the City, I thought to myself, is this true? This zsa zsa zsu that Carrie was talking about? Possible?
That's when the phone rang, and there it was! The zsa zsa zsu! It's really incredible how your heart skips a beat and then runs into overdrive at the sight of a name on a call. You pick up the phone slowly, look at it ringing, and as you answer it, there are butterflies in your stomach.
I look at the phone ringing, and before I realize it I pick it up. And the sound of his voice makes me feel so jittery. After years, it still feels like I'm in high school talking to him. I love how he makes me feel so tiny and fragile! I think everyone at some point likes to be made to feel special. What is so amazing here is that I am not even that special for him (yet?) but I still feel like the most gifted retard in the house when he calls!
It is a long story that has gone on for years. A kind of mating dance, a ritual that I have now mastered simply because I have grown up with it! For years, I have danced on this tune where he is concerned, and it makes me wonder, what if? It makes me wonder what now.
I still love how tiny you make me feel, how special you make me feel, how absolutely beautiful you make me feel. And just for the sake of feeling like this, I am willing to dance this tune for the next decade. Yes, it might've been a decade since we started out, but it feels like it was just yesterday, the memories fresh in my mind, seeing you that first time at school, gangly and awkward. I thank the stars it was my class you were in, and not someone else's. I remember coming to school early just to see you play basket ball. I remember the long telephone conversations we used to have.. I remember getting back home from school and eagerly looking for an excuse just so that I could call you up!
And I remember not talking to you for twelve long years. Yes, danced to that tune as well. I remember that I remembered you all through the years. Its been a bumpy and thrilling ride, my dear. And I can't wait to go round the next turn.
This zsa zsa zsu has gone on for a very long time, and trust me it still feels amazing to be in love with you.

The Perfect Song

There are some songs that simply take your breath away. Even at 2 am on a Tuesday morning. Even when you think that good songs stopped existing. And then there it is. That one perfect song. A transporter of a song, that takes you back in time to an age you'd forgotten. A age of innocence. A song that makes you believe, that it is possible. That it is possible to believe again, to love again. A song that makes you want to be in love. A song that makes you believe in naivety. 

You sit there are 2 am, and listen and re-listen to that song. Wondering about the loss of innocence, the conversion to the jaded side of life. Wondering exactly when it was that you stopped believing. Wondering exactly what it was that you stopped believing in.

A Letter Never Posted

Hey You,

I have always been some one who might appear to be a pessimist on the outside, but is an optimist through and through. Hopelessly so even. And today I realized the folly of my beliefs. Apparently no matter how much good Karma you throw out at the world, somehow you get hit by the bad stuff as well. Ricochet from someone else's Karma perhaps? I don't know. All I know is that as I sat there listening to you talk about us, I realized, that there simply is no point in being optimistic.
I realized, that we started out on your terms, we were together on your terms and lo behold we ended on your terms. Where's the justice in that? Right, so you say you're stubborn, take the good stuff for granted, quick to point out what is wrong and all that. You also say you never walk away. Didn't you just do that? At the first sign of trouble, didn't you just throw your hands up and say "Ok, damn, I can't so this"? So what was that all about? You give your 100% to your friend, but the person who can make you feel more special that any friend anywhere, is not even given a chance?
For some reason I thought when it came to us, you'd at least give us a fighting chance, maybe because I foolishly hoped I meant something special to you. Is this how specialty is treated? I always thought, here is a man I can trust to have by my side. Here is someone who might be worth a fighting chance. I fought for you, every chance there was. And what do I get?
I can not begin to explain how much I wanted to be the one who could make you see. I saw through you. I knew you. I understood you. And I knew, I know that if you had just given us a chance, I would have made you see how much I get where you're coming from. How well I understood who you are. How much I could have made you believe that there is a way around everything, and that we could have had it all?
At this point all I can say is that it breaks my heart, not because we aren't together. It breaks my heart that you did not give us a chance to explore what could've been. I breaks my heart that I might never be able to make you see how wonderful it could've been. It breaks my heart that you walked away.

Love,
Me.

Guptaji Please Meri Shaadi Karado

Blatantly copied from a post I found on Facebook. I thought it was very well written. And I loved the way the sentiment is so expertly expressed.

Enjoy!

Guptaji Please Meri Shaadi Karado

You are a bright young man with great prospects. You grew up in Delhi with all its brilliant advantages, the shaded boulevards, the lovely eateries, the great consumerist bubble and the surprisingly high quality education.

Your parents dote on you; you live in a comfortably posh yet middle class south Delhi residential area such as Vasant Kunj. Last year you finished your expensive MBA course that daddy paid for, and you landed a great job. You work for an MNC and the future looks golden. Last month you made the first EMI on a spunky new hatchback. And now to complete the circle of joy, you fall for a stunning college beauty who you met when you walked in on your sister’s pyjama party a few nights ago.

You woo and chase her down, text her and fb her, you tease her and compliment her in equal measure and finally she acquiesces to go out with you for a coffee. “No dinner, papa doesn’t allow late nights. Just coffee.”

On the fateful evening you rush out of your gurgaon office earlier than usual, taking the trouble to spruce up in the office loo, you pick her up from her South Delhi college – no big deal, it’s a first date, of course you can do that much – you have a lovely evening together where naturally you pay for everything, after all she doesn’t even have a job, and then as you get out of the coffee shop she slides into the front passenger seat of your car without as much as a by your leave. Needless to say you weren’t planning to leave her in the middle of the street anyway; certainly you will deposit her at the most convenient drop off point.

“Where can I drop you?” you ask.

“Home of course!” she looks surprised and a trifle disgusted, like you’ve just let off. You are immediately contrite. "Yes, yes of course. So ummm… where would that be?"

NOIDA.

And thus begins the saga of Delhi men.

Delhi men have complained for years on end that they are used as drivers. Gugraon to NOIDA is no concern for the girl. A 3 state cross country trek doesn’t make her feel guilty. Your exhausting day, the punitive cost of fuel, the ache in your lower back, the redness of your eyes, your lack of sleep or your pressing hospital engagement, none of it matters in the face of the unequivocal and imperious “Mujhe Drop to Karoge Na?’’

No, its not a question. It’s a command. No, it’s not even a command. It’s a test. If you fail the test dude, you ain’t getting any. No alu ka paratha from aunty ji, no anything else from uski beti ji.

Men in Delhi have cribbed for years that they never know why a girl actually responds to them, when she finally does. Because eventually they end up behind the wheel and behind the times.

Girlfriends acquire them to be ferried around. Wives keep them to be driven from point to point. Sisters pamper them and keep their secrets to get those crucial drops and picks. And of course mothers never cease to remind of the love and the sacrifice and the years of wakeful nights… “chal ab kitty party tak chhor de phir teen ghante ke andar pakka aa jaiyo, Mrs. Chawla badi bore haigi….”

Today, you Mr. B K Gupta, Delhi Police Chief and custodian of this capital’s citizens, protector of the vulnerable, the weak, the easily targeted, you have just made the life of all such hapless men a little more miserable.

You have just announced, without shame or sheepishness, that all women who travel late at night, must be accompanied by a ‘relative or a friend’.

The Taliban would be proud of you. Any plans of stoning those who don’t?

So I am assuming Mr. Gupta, that now you will also become shrink and counselor ensuring I make the right friends, keep the right people in my life, am socially amiable, personally flexible and I win every popularity contest. I must find a husband and hold on to one, regularly visit all my relatives every Sunday, smile at all my neighbours every day and occasionally share the ‘ghar ki bani kheer’ with them. After all, I don’t know which of them I will need when.

Needless to say I must also stay in regular touch with all my old college mates, my ex colleagues, hey it may even be a great idea to stay on cordial terms with my ex boyfriends.

And heaven forbid that I fall in love with a man who doesn’t know how to drive. Tauba tauba Mr. Gupta. You will be appalled at my choices, won’t you?

Your policing has no room for me if I am single, socially awkward, dysfunctional in my relationships or a plain simple loner. This city cannot provide me protection if I am an insecure person incapable of holding on to the people in my life. And this city will most definitely not be responsible for me if I am from out of town and have no friends and family here.

The Delhi Police will not stand up and applaud the women who fight with their folks at home and with age old prejudices and biases and insist on going out there, earning their own living, making their own lives. This city will look askance at the girls who do anything it takes to be truly independent – paying their own bills, learning how to drive, jumping in and out of all sorts of public transport, living not only on their own but on their own terms, making their way through the meandering maze of the city to find one singular personal identity.

Your city will not commit to my well being if I am a sole bread earner, if I have dependants of my own, if I look after the infirm or the disabled, if I don't have the choices that allow me the luxury of 'relatives and friends' to accompany me on late night excursions into this jungle land you claim to defend as your turf.

The next time a young trainee flutters her eyes at her employer at 6 p.m. and says “sorry I know I haven’t met my deadline but I need to go home because it’s dark, and hence this work and its multi crore ramifications can wait; after all daddy will be worried”, you Mr. Gupta will appreciate her sense of priorities. Oh, and her postscript: “Sir, can you drop me home?”

The next time a smart young lady insists, hey no, its okay, I can find my way home - from work, from a party, from a late night meeting - you won't be the one encouraging her choices, and her voices.

The next time a young girl puts 6 months of her hard earned salary on the down payment of her car and on driving lessons, the next time a college kid saves up all her pocket money for the metro pass, the next time an ambitious young lady works late into the night to finish that crucial project, will your city rally around that woman and make her feel its worth her while? To defy convention, prejudices, centuries old biases?

No Mr. Gupta. You will stand around and watch her get raped.

Thank you sir.

I will go and make tea for my husband now.

Break? Or Build?

Can I just say that it sucks? Yes it sucks to like someone and know that there is nothing you can do about it. I sucks so much that it becomes a chore to pretend you're normal and not busting inside. At times I wish it weren't so. Why can't life be simple instead? Is it too much to ask for?

You like someone, they like you back end of story. Why the drama and the heartache? Why have to go through the ritual dance, and end up standing alone on the dance floor? Like the little reject shit that no one would want to dance with.

Frustrating and annoying and pathetic it is. Because you know in your heart, that if this was your best friend, you'd be telling her to get the fuck over it and move on. And you know in your heart that you're THAT hypocritical. Dishing it is always so much easier than taking it. And at the end of the day, you know you got to stand alone. But you still want a partner on that bloody dance floor.

It reminds me of something I read today that Tupac said, yes, TUPAC:

You can spend minutes, hours days, weeks or even months over analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened ...
Or you can just leave the the pieces on the floor, and move the fuck on.

Procrastination and Stagnation

Some times I feel like I have Asperger's Syndrome, or maybe I'm just a dissociative personality. I don't know. Ever get that feeling of standing on the outside and watching life pass you by? I get that several times a day. Makes me wonder about how normal "normal" really is, or actually, how crazy "normal" really is. It's strange to feel like this. Almost as if you're in a surreal existence, a parallel kind of place. I look around me and see people succeeding, people doing better than me at what I'm doing, and it makes me wonder where I'm going wrong?

Maybe I'm just a big procrastinator and no procrastinator ever reached the top of that ladder. It's like in the book, The folk of the Faraway Tree, when Connie gets stuck on the never ending ladder. Life's kinda like that, a never ending ladder. You stop because you realize its never ending. Oh wait, life does end, but your legacy never does, does it? That is exactly the point, the legacy you leave behind is what makes you continue on the never ending ladder. So basically those who stopped are those who leave behind nothing. Their life literally comes to a halt.

I am beginning to think maybe I'm kidding myself when I say I want to succeed. When push comes to shove, I am after all mediocre. Nothing spectacular or amazing. But, and that is a big but, does it really have to be like that for me? For anyone?

I met someone today that I hadn't seen for eight years. Meeting them made me actually realize, and sit and think and analyze, where am I going? He seemed to have changed a lot over the years. And he told me I hadn't changed at all. Is that supposed to be a compliment? I suppose if he was talking about looks, it is, female vanity being what it is. But in every other sense isn't being told you haven't changed amongst the biggest insult? It's like being compared to stagnant water. Dull, still and useless, actually not really useless as much as dangerous, in that it helps breed mosquitoes.

I suppose being told you look so different and that you've changed is the biggest compliment one can receive. It signifies dynamism and volatility, two traits I'd love to claim.

Voices

The voices, make them go away.
The shouting, the screaming,
The crying, the begging.

Do you think you can make it go away?
23 years of voices in my head,
Can you banish them?
Will you kill them?
Can you make them just go away?

Did I try you ask?
I turned a deaf ear,
I turned my head away,
I even tried to look the other way.

It doesn't help at all.
It makes even less sense than most.
The voices will stay
I can't make them go away.

Help me... Please take me away.

Sunday

Its KFC Day! Yaay!

Ever since my father re-married, his dinner on sunday has been at his in-laws home. And since I shifted back to Delhi, My grandma and i have been having KFC meals on Sunday! And it's Sunday today! :)

Got to Let Go

Somethings in life, you just got to let go. You can't go through life holding a grudge against your kindergarten enemy, can you? You can't go through life holding a grudge against your middle school class mate, now can you? Forgive and forget. Everyone preaches it, few practice it, almost no one understands it. We often forget thinking we've forgiven. Big difference there, my friend. There is a reason frenemies exist. Well, frenemy isn't exactly a word, but I like to borrow from Sex and The City on occasion.
However, the big question here isn't that can you let go of what others have done onto you, but the question that goes round and round in my head, is that, can you let go of what you have done onto others? Can you let go of what you have done onto yourself? Yes yes I can see it sounds a bit heavy and philosophical etc.. But it's true. And I have only recently begun to understand this concept called forgiveness. How can you possibly forgive anyone at all, if you don't understand the concept, and for that matter, if you can't forgive yourself?
Not too sound too philosophical, but there are things you just have to let go off. Let. Go. Off. It is not easy and it definitely isn't something that has a switch you can just flick on. It is a slow process, and can take years. The trick here is not to let it get to you, or go round and round like a spinning theme park ride in your head. That, my dear, takes a whole lot of practice, and a certain ability to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the voices and people in your head.
Luckily for me, I am deaf! Not blind however, but that will happen as well. Runs in the family! See, wasn't that hard to find that silver lining was it?

I want...

I want to fly. I want to feel free. I want to belong. I want to feel again. I want to love. I want to be loved. I want to hold someone in my sleep. I want to be held by someone in my sleep. I want a place to call my own. I want a guy to call my own. I want to be famous. I want to be missed. I want a carefree life. I want to be strong. I want to bale to be my own boss. I want to be known by everyone. I want to be able to help whoever needs help. I want to be able to cry. I want to be able to laugh. I want to be able to sing. I want to dance. I want to play. I want to act. I want to eat. I want to drink. I want a happy life. I want MY life. I want my dogs back. I want my mom back. I want a normal life. I want a best friend. I want any friend. I want children. I want to be married. I want to be an important person. I want to LIVE. I want to DIE. I want to give life. I want to take a life. I want this. I want that. I want EVERYTHING. I WANT nothing. I just NEED it ALL. I just CRAVE it ALL. I just want to BE.