Sejal’s article for Father’s Day

I know i haven’t posted in, well, almost a year. Just haven’t been suitably inspired. Then I read Seju’s article which she wrote while she worked at Femina. So I asked her if I could share it with all of you, and since she said yes, what follows is her tremendous ode to her Daddy. It’s from a long time ago but it isn’t dated. It never will be.

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“It’s Father’s Day.

Again.

I have nothing against the concept; it’s actually quite wonderful. It gives fathers and daughters a chance to bond again, gives them an excuse to exchange gifts (as if Daddies needed any excuse) and for the less expressive ones, an opportunity to acknowledge each other… Yes, it’s a great concept.

But I approach the day with growing dread.

It will be four years this September that I lost my father to a sudden heart attack.
No major illness, no persistent health complaints, no harmful vices… no warning.

Gone. Just like that. He was only 56.

And all this day does is remind me of all that I am being deprived of by just one cruel swipe of fate.

You can read millions of articles on how to deal with death, or talk to psychiatrists about your pain or go for meditation and yoga to find inner calm. You can say to yourself, that your daddy is with you in spirit and that he’s watching over you. And although these outlets may be extremely helpful, the devastating truth is — It’s just not good enough.

Nothing compares to the comfort of walking sleepy-eyed into the living room every morning to see him reading the newspaper.

Nothing compares to the sense of security that you feel when despite your loud protests, he insists on dropping you somewhere just so he is assured that you have reached safely.

Nothing compares to the feeling of individuality that only he could give by asking for your opinion on significant family decisions, even when you were just 12.

Nothing compares to the delight you feel when he expresses amazement at the fact that YOUR birthday is not important enough to be a National holiday.

Nothing compares to the sense of camaraderie you feel when it’s you and your father versus mom and your brother.

Nothing compares to the spark in your mother’s eyes when she gets a pair of earrings from him on their anniversary.

Nothing compares to the feeling of exceptionality he instils in you when he genuinely thinks that your boyfriends are not good enough for someone as unique as you.

Nothing compares with the knowledge that no matter what life throws at you, Daddy will always help you fix it.

And finally, absolutely NOTHING compares to the taken-for-granted feeling that no matter where you are, he is just a phone call away.

No, nothing compares to him being there… in the flesh.

So what do you do?

You take him forward. In ‘Stepmom’ Susan Sarandon, dying of cancer, tells her daughter to take her along in her heart after she dies. She says that’s how people go on forever… because someone carries them along.

So that’s what I will do this year on. You could try it too. Take him along — to your first major business deal, to your wedding day, his grandchild’s birth — to every significant moment in your life… just take him along.

Start by doing things that would make him happy. Anyway, your father’s happiness was most probably wrapped up in yours, so make yourself the happiest you can.

Start by not flinching and turning away when you look at his photograph. Start by accepting that though the void that he has left behind will never be filled again, he will live on through you.
And quite a life it will be, make sure of that.

After all, you are your father’s daughter.

Happy Father’s Day.”

Dear Me,

This post is inspired by Mental Exotica‘s beautiful post on a letter to her 16-year old self. She asks readers to share what they’d write to their 16-year old selves if given a chance. Since I’ve been sans any inspiration, this is the perfect excuse to get a post going!

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Dear TT,

If you think you’re having a hard time now, wait till you get to your late twenties!

Okay, not a good start. Let’s re-do this. So, 16 is not quite the blooming time you thought it’d be. Remember, fairy tales and movies are just that – fiction. But at least it helps you shape and colour your dreams, and that’s very, very good. You may not realise it now, but years from now it’ll give you a sense of clarity that is rare – you’ll know what you want. As you’ll gather from the world around you, not many will be able to stake claim to that.

You’re feisty and confident, and you’re discovering a lot of new things about yourself (positive ones at that) – hold on to it. Remember, that regardless of how terrible current circumstances may seem, you have the ability to persevere and surprise yourself. I know you can’t see that right now, but one day you will. It’s who you are.

Love may seem elusive right now, and I can tell it bothers you that the boys love hanging out with you but see you more as a buddy and less as a… well… err, chick. That’s cool because you see, most of these boys will still be in your life 14+ years on (those that won’t, weren’t worth your while to begin with) while the chicks they’re desperately trying to steal a kiss from now, will be less than a memory for them then. Even better than that is that it won’t matter to you - imagine that! More importantly, you’ll have learnt to distinguish a crush from love – very important lesson that. You know how you feel you take the short route to love, and an even shorter one out of it? Well… umm… that will change. You will fall, pardon the cliché, head-over-heels in love, and you’ll lose your way when trying to find the path out. But it’s okay. Your ability to re-build like you do right now, is what’ll hold you in good stead then.

Friends – they’re important. But you know this little fantasy thing you have going about – my friends are my world, they can never do any wrong, they understand me more than my family etc. Drop it! You’re right, in that you will meet some incredible people, and you’ll never be wanting for friends but regardless of how close they are to you or not, they will at some stage hurt you; just as you will, them. Be less unforgiving, and more accepting. Don’t try and keep everyone happy, that’s not going to happen. The ones that are happy (with you & the world at large), don’t need you to prove it to them; the ones that do, are only trouble masquerading as friends.

If this 30 year old could tell you one thing it is this: you’re special. Since special is different from regular, it means that while extraordinary things will happen to you, some of them will be extraordinarily rough. That however, is what’ll make you even more special. Regular folks may not get you, and happiness may play truant for a while… yet, at the end of it all, you’ll be happy. You’ll lead life on your terms, and that is so, SO brave.

Brace yourself, it’s a bit tough but hey, we believe in a good fight, don’t we?

Love,

The 30-yr old TT

PS: This is the thinnest you’ll ever be! Enjoy it

Possessed

Have you ever been so consumed by something (no, not a person… a thing) that it makes you complete?

The First Born has her one supreme love  - music. The bond she shares with it is almost spiritual. I see her when she discovers a new song, or an artist/ band, or just a new tune, she is delirious. Really. For someone who claims to be emotionally challenged, she is supremely animated when in her choice of musical company or caught talking about it. No, she doesn’t play any instrument, and no she doesn’t sing… but she is most certainly overcome by it. She recently went to Barcelona and saw her favourite band ever, The National, perform live. I wasn’t there but the way in which she described the experience, made me feel as though i was (youtube videos help too!). It’s remarkable that one can have such an intense relationship with something that at a certain level is well, abstract.

She isn’t the only one I know who loves something with such passion though. The Male Best Friend loves football, and cars. Human beings won’t manage to move him the way these two subjects can. Oh well, at least in the case of football, more specifically, Manchester United, there are humans involved but really it isn’t like he’s rooting for a player. To him it’s the club. He was devastated when ManU lost to Barca at the Champions League final last month. Okay fine, maybe sports enthusiasts are like that. Although, I am an avid film buff but i can’t remember being devastated when Lagaan didn’t win at the Oscars (even though i loved the film & the producer). And let’s not even get started on cars. I can safely say that when you say the word “beautiful” to him, the first image that his mind conjures up is that of an automobile. I kid you not. The only time i have seen his eyes sparkle with love is when we have discussed cars (read: he has waxed eloquent on the subject while i have given the appropriate responses such as “wow!”, “uh huh”, “really?”… you get the drift).

Then there is the Parisian artist. As her name suggests, art is her weakness. In her case at least she herself is an artist so one can understand the passion. Also, her descriptive prowess is beyond anything i have ever known. A green is never green – it is “forest green” or some such. She once described a dress to me – “Oh, it is the most beautiful shade of mango yellow you know! It’s rich and ripe… and the cut is just so delicate… the gathers snug around the waist and then just flows like a waterfall…” i had a hard time imagining this dress, let me assure you! My mind first came up with a lovely safeda mango and then… a waterfall. I am fairly literal in that sense.

If it seems as though I’m making fun of these three you’re actually wrong. As much as i love to exaggerate their respective passions, the truth is that i am entirely envious that they each have something that makes their existence complete. I have never found meaning so wholly in something that is not directly connected to me. At some level it makes me wonder how much of a narcissist i am. Hmm… something worth pondering over there and maybe even a future post!

Better late than never

About two years ago, Pink tagged me with this post that was doing the rounds on facebook those days, ’25 Random Things About Me’. She wrote so well, as did another friend of mine (let’s call her Wanderlust) that i felt i had no voice of mine to share. Also ‘cus about 70% of what Wanderlust had written was true for me too. This morning i was talking about it with the Male Best Friend, and he suggested i should write my own. I gave him the same answer – “but i’ll be limited by her (Wanderlust’s) style”. People mirror accents; i mirror people. He knows better than to push me when i’m being stubborn, so he let me be. It got me thinking though. About how i enjoyed writing and then stopped because i felt i had nothing to say. Actually, that isn’t strictly true, i have things to share, i just don’t know how to. Friends find me and my tales interesting, then again that comes with the role – love me, love my tales! Long story short – i enjoyed writing but those days i wrote a lot more than i write now (in the one year that i’ve had the blog, i’ve only posted seven times!). Writing, like most other things, needs practice.  So am going to use the 2 year old tag as the theme for this post.

1. I am a drama queen. I love to exaggerate things (no, i don’t lie), i just believe in colourful narratives with exaggerated expressions – eyebrows shooting so high that it gets lost in the curly mop on my head, hands flying all about the place, eyeballs rolling… you get the idea. It just makes things… well, interesting.
2. That said, i don’t like being the centre of attention. I really don’t.  I enjoy holding court when i’m around people i know and love (and vice-versa). Put me with a bunch of people i don’t know and i want to become a wall flower.
3. Am extremely judgemental. I size people up all the time. There is this inexplicable need for me to be able to place people; 2 categories of people exist in my world – ‘my type’ & ‘not my type’. Within the ‘not my type’ category lies – ‘i may like you if i get to know you more’ or ‘i don’t wish to waste my time on you’.
4. By the way, am usually good with my… err, judgements. Or maybe gut is a good word… yeah, my gut instinct is typically right (as it is for everyone my mother is quick to point out. Ok fine, but most don’t listen to it then!), and it is so when it comes to people too.
5. Am deliriously romantic – i love the idea of being in love (maybe that’s why the real thing eludes me. Bah!)
6. I used to have a thing for ‘bad boys’. You know how you’re always attracted to the ones with the edge because good is… what is the polite way to say this… boring? Turned out that while bad was fun, it was rarely good.
7. Am very moody. My mood swings more than Shah Rukh Khan.
8. In my head, there is this little voice that talks non-fuckin-stop. It’s like a movie in there. So every move of mine is preceded or followed with a narrative. Sometimes, all i want to do is yell, “sssshhhh!”
9. While I tend to curse my luck, and ever so often at that, the truth is that i have been fairly lucky. Someone up there’s got my back, and i am eternally grateful, even though i may pretend otherwise.
10. The most influence anyone has had over my life is my mother. She’s the best mother i know (yes, every mother is to her child but mine is best-est, really. No, TRULY). She isn’t perfect… but she’s one of the strongest women i know. Also, she set the benchmark of motherhood so high that i have performance anxiety. If i do ever have a child, perhaps the best thing i can do is have Ma bring her up – and i can play the grand parent’s part, it comes naturally to me :p
11. My little sister is my world. She knows that, as does the world. The part that no one knows is that l live in the mortal fear that someday i won’t be cool enough for her. And sometimes, i think that day’s already here, she just hasn’t told me yet.
12. The world for me is a better place because of my friends. They are the stuff that dreams are made of. Regardless of the good times or the bad – they’re always around. And for them, i’d do almost anything.
13. That said, i once broke a dear friend’s heart. We didn’t speak for 11 years. We’re back now, and i couldn’t be happier!
14. Everyone has a lesson to learn in their lifetime (or so i believe). Mine has to do with relationships.
15. I have OCD. I can’t say more.
16. Oh, I am an alternate healing/ therapy junkie. Tarot, reiki, astrology, crystal therapy, hypnotherapy – been there, doing that.
17. In my old age, i seem to be discovering a love for cricket <gasp>. Otherwise, i have no interest in any form of sport whatsoever.
18. Let me add a rider. People say they’d take a bullet for folks they love. Me, i’d take (a) football. The Male Best Friend loves it. Sometimes in order to spend time with him, one has to watch 22 men run around a field with a ball. It is better than it sounds.
19. I can’t drive. I own a car though. For 5 years. There was a point when the driver’s salary i paid was more than the EMI for the car. But, i can change car tyres and i am very good with directions (dude, am better than gps in some cases!) – maybe i am meant to be the memsahib that gets driven around. Yeah!
20.  I.love.movies. I believe i was meant to be on celluloid. But cellulite got in the way.
21. I was born to eat. I can’t eat much at one go though (nor can i eat slow), so i keep nibbling all day long – particularly junk. That explains the cellulite.
22. Cooking isn’t a passion though. But on the rare occasions that i do, i love it. In fact, am baking tomorrow!
23. My idea of a holiday is one where i am living & shopping luxuriously. Perhaps that’s why i don’t get to travel much (even though i really want to!). Hmm.
24. Right from when i was a child, i enjoyed books and the world of literature. They introduced me to the world of make belief. Which is why sometimes, being in my head is better than out of it.
25. Poor grammar is a huge turn off. You, however, must pardon any that i have made so far.

I get by with a little help from my friends

…  don’t you? If you’ve been reading my blog, (if you haven’t, start now – in all of 15mins you’d be up to speed given my (ir)regular post pattern!), you’ll know that I’ve dedicated two posts to a failed relationship. And if you don’t know me, then you may be inclined to feel a little sorry for me. Don’t. I’ll tell you why – while i may not have a stable romantic partner, i am not wanting for love. How come? Well, ‘cus i got the world’s greatest people as friends who fill me and my world with immense sunshine, love and cheer.

Ever since i can remember, i’ve been blessed with friends who are incredible. Through every stage of my life – school, college, post grad, work – I’ve come across people who not only were lovely company to keep, but also made me evolve as a person and became friends-for-keep. There are few in particular who make my world complete. One of them you already know – Parisian Artist. She’s seen me at my best and worst, and in some ways knows me like most don’t. We’ve gone through long spells of ‘we-aren’t-talking-to-each-other’ – you see, in many ways we are similar, and in some, very apart. it’s hard for me to tell you about our equation except that when you’ve been so much a part of each others lives, you just become home. There are days when you love, and there are days that you hate. Yet, at the end of it all, it’ll still always be home.

Then there is That girl in Pink. Anything i say about her will be insufficient. Suffice to say that she is nothing short of perfect. I call her my voice of reason. You can always depend on her for honest and straightforward advice that she will offer without judging you or making you feel small. Rare quality that. For the past seven weeks, she and her husband (also known as my What If… friend) opened not just their home but their lives to me. I took a sabbatical, and wanted to figure out what to do with myself. TGIP and What If… told me to just pack my bags and come live with them for as long as i wanted to while i worked things out for myself. am not sure if most of us have the luxury to just go plant themselves at a friend’s place (particularly when they’re married and your acquaintance with their spouse is only a few months old) -  i do, and i have. You see, i only really got to know What If… in December last year (even though they’ve been married for over 7 years), and yet that didn’t stop What If… from treating me as his friend, not merely his wife’s. We all wish and hope that our best friend’s partner becomes our friend too. My wish has been granted, i hope so is yours.

Mr. Resourceful is my one and only male best friend and as the title suggests, there is nothing that he can’t do. Unlike the above two, our equation has developed in fits and starts over the past seven years. i met him at work – we were colleagues at an advisory firm, and though we were friends for the one year that i worked there, we only got closer once i’d left. He is a rock – not just to me but to most of those he chooses to have as his tribe. you know what they say about being stuck in a life and death situation and being allowed that one call to make – i can tell you this, I’d call him… and i know he wouldn’t disappoint. he’s been a far better friend to me than i have, and one day i hope to be too.

I’ve saved the best for the last… my First Born. She is my baby – the sister i’ve prayed for and got (yes, i threw a precious penny in the wishing well in Rome and wished for her!). Being polar opposites, we complement each other the First Born & I. She came into my life after i’d spent 8 years being on my own… we spent another 15 odd years getting comfortable in our respective skins, and then grew to be friends. she and i, we’re soul sisters – we have our own language and we have our own means of expression… we don’t need to talk everyday (even though we do) but there exists a deep sense of connection. i can, and am, goofy with her… just as she is with me. She’s wiser beyond her years and gifted to the point of genius. if it isn’t already obvious, i love her beyond measure.

So you see, you may lose some but you win many others!

Love means not ever having to say you’re sorry…

wrote Eric Segal in the iconic novel ‘Love Story’. It fit very well with my scheme of things. You know the very rosy view of the world that most young girls hold dear… there’d be a prince charming, we’d find each other when we least expected to, there would be instant chemistry, a fervent courtship would follow, and ultimately we’d marry, have kids, then grand kids, and of course life would be blissful. Yes, fairy tales left a lasting impression on my mind.

Then, reality came knocking on my door. To be honest, it’s not that reality is devoid of love, hope and all things good. Yet, more often than not, it leaves a bitter sweet taste in the mouth. Take for instance, the film Blue Valentine. It’s a sordid tale about a married couple that fall in love when they’re young, and then fall out of it by the time they hit their thirties. It’s the typical story – talented, enduring lad meets intense, young girl – opposites attract, they fall in love, have sex, she realises she’s pregnant, signs up for an abortion, almost goes through with it… till she changes her mind… and they decide to become family. Before you know it, the layers of love peel away to reveal a colourless (and certainly loveless) life. The film beautifully captures moments from their falling in love phase – unfortunately though, the past just cannot redeem the present. Blue Valentine reminded me a lot of Revolutionary Road. That film stripped me of all hope. It showed me what I could become (and what I suspect most of us could). I’ve been trying to wonder what it is about such films that draws me to them. They are far from inspiring (the only thing they do inspire, is the will to not be like that), and they leave you feeling morose… and yet, you love it. Here’s why – because it tells you that life is not about promised beginnings and perfect endings. It tells you that it’s okay to have loved and lost, and still want to love again. And more than that, it tells you that you aren’t the only one who has a clandestine relationship with misery.

Three years ago my life went to pieces, mostly because I allowed it to (but I have already written about that here). Recently, I woke up to realise that I’d spent almost as much time mourning the man, as I had being in love with him. It shocked me. In my world, things don’t look bleak for that long. Purely because I love being happy, and being otherwise is not acceptable on a long term basis. Yet, I had swum in this pool of heartache for so long that I’d forgotten how it is to just lay back on the sand and soak in the sun. The journey back to the shore is long, and tiring – you don’t realise how far you’ve gone until it’s time to trace your way back. Am almost there but waves of anger, despair, betrayal, and loneliness throw me back.  More soul searching was done to figure what I was missing. And that’s when I realised what an indelible impact Mr. Segal has had on my impressionable mind. Love may mean not having to say you’re sorry but it almost always needs you to forgive.  So as I stride forward, I look up, take a deep breath, and say to you here in this virtual abyss – “I forgive you, Raghav Mathur”.

It was different

… or, was it?

The story dates back to six year ago. The Lass was 23 (with more than 6 months to go before she turned 24), and she met this boy at a friend’s brother’s wedding reception. there was music, there was dancing, there was giddy conversation, and there was spirit. lots of it. and above all, there was the brashness of youth. that is for all of them, except this one little bugger. he, he was different.

but that night the Lass wasn’t drawn to him. charmed, yes. drawn, no. It took some random snail mail, nonsensical phone conversations, music, and a ten day break with lots of movie watching, drinking, and some more phone conversation, for her to kick up a fancy job, complete with life in the big city (that she’s still in love with), and move back to the Capital. yeah, very filmy, and so very different from the routine that she was used to.

from there on started the fairytale, they’d talk every single night till it turned into day. they’d meet every weekend, at that same pub, with the same friends (or not), drink the same drink, go catch movies, listen to endless music, eat at fancy places in the first week of the month, and at dhabas through the rest… and somewhere at the end of this routine, they admitted to being helplessly in love. the truly, madly, deeply variety. they both felt different.

they were different though, the Lad and her; he from the cookie-cutter mould, and she from the let’s-chase-rainbows mould. that didn’t stop them though from chalking out their lives on excel – a 5 year plan to get where they wanted. applied for Seemingly Impossible Jobs to help reduce that 5 year horizon to 2/3… and so, Lady Luck seemed particularly benevolent when he got a call from potential employer of Seemingly Impossible Job. extensive research was done, mock interview sessions were conducted, grammar lessons were given, emails were composed… and a whole 3 months later, the job was secured. the different life they yearned for was now finally a ticket away.

Then came the twist in the tale. Lad wanted life to fit into the cookie cutter, the Lass tried but couldn’t fit in. so goodbyes were said, and for a while each followed the path they’d chosen. three months in, and 2 months before boarding that flight, the Lad came back to the Lass, went down on his knees and sang ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’. the song says everything i want to convey, said the Lad. the Lass brooded over the turn of events, and thought it best to stick to the decision she’d made. we both inhabit different worlds, Lad, that’s why we went our own ways. why undo what’s done, she said. The Lad wouldn’t hear of it… he begged, cried, wrote mails, and finally went to the Lass’s parents and asked them to send the Lass to him. Let me make it up to her, let me show her the life that we dreamed of. Let me show her that our dream is real,  the Lad reasoned with the Folks. life is all about second chances, is what the Folks told the Lass, go make the most of yours. so she went forsaking her indifference to embrace the different life they built on a MS software.

Life on phoren land was fantastical. The Lad reinvented romance and the Lass found herself falling in love with the Lad all over again. except that this time round she threw caution to the wind and didn’t hold back. she went back after 4 weeks, floating on cloud 9 with the Lad promising to bring her back in the next 2 months as his wife. so while the Lass started planning to wrap up her life in desi land over the next couple of months, the Lad soaked in more of life on phoren shores. it was all so bright and sparkly. while on desi land, he had just the Lass fawning over him, here he had women that inspired fairness creams luring him to drinks and more… he sipped hesitantly at first on this new found attention, and found the effect intoxicating, so he sipped more, and more… and more. before you knew it,  what started as a flirtatious affair became an addictive  need for attention. the high life was way different from the predictive nature of routine.

On desi land, the Lass got a whiff of the change, as 2 months of waiting changed from 2 to 3 to 4 to 5 to 6 to… being the brazen Lass she was, she confronted the Lad about his new found bottle of joy. what is wrong with you, he snapped, can’t you see I’m busy getting acquainted with the ways of phoren shores. these are turbulent times, let me focus on the task at hand. you sit pretty on your desi land, and don’t pester me for a date. i’ll give you one when i have time, he barked, at the end of one particularly long conversation. the Lass let some time pass, and then some more but when ever she broached the subject, she was read out the same script. then one night, she realised that the past 10 months had taught her what one year of waiting for godot hadn’t. she called the Lad and said goodbye. this isn’t what i’m waiting for, Lad, so i’ll leave you to fulfill dreams different from mine.

Present Day: The Lad lives on desi land after having been sent back home unceremoniously from a job that he didn’t have time to focus on. he married the girl his parents dreamt of, and hasn’t had the time (or imagination) to dream differently. The Lass, well, she’s chasing rainbows