Just Like A Watermelon

2010-02-23T02:13:00.000-08:00

I was on my elleptical the other day. In my night clothes, feeling like the wedding band was cutting in a tad tightly on my finger. Sweat, mild but nagging nausea and lot of self loathing kept the wheel spinning. 90 calories burnt.
The iPod started playing Mary Jane. I stepped off the machine and looked outside my guilded cage on the tenth floor. Winter is letting up and the sun is out at 7 am.

Cuz, all that matters, Mary Jane, is your freedom.

A small smile slowly spread over my face.

2010-02-19T02:23:00.001-08:00

onno dorja taye dhukle ki alice onno kothao pouchhoto? ei chinta roj raatey.

monay monay onno prithibi ta enkey felechhi. ekakityer cheye onek shundor.

2010-01-05T01:47:00.000-08:00

There is so much tightly-clenched fist, gnashing teeth, fire in the eyes kind of anger inside me. I want to smash my own face in, tear up all the photos, erase every memory. Why can't we undo things we didn't mean for to happen? To forget everything I saw, to make the picture parade in my head stop would be freedom.

The regret of not having what I did not even know I wanted this badly, makes me so unreasonable. Being deprived of what I always knew comes naturally to every woman makes me so jealous. Jealous of lesser women, jealous of the woman I used to be, jealous of women I love so much.

As the routine plays out the way I always imagined it should, I rewind my own show and repeat , rewind, repeat, rewind, repeat and then I just want to lock myself up in a bathroom and shout till my voice cracks. To hear my voice, guttural, loud, and broken, could be freedom. But I shout with my face buried in a thick quilt and there is no redemption in the darkness that I see with my eyes tightly shut.

Months of visceral anger and hate, growing like a living thing that eats and breathes and sleeps and wakes at unexpected moments.

"Look ahead, the future isn't what happened to you. It's going to be better if you can just let go and get past it all. Even if you cannot forgive, try to forget. In forgetting lies your freedom."

True. Shotyi kotha, kintu. kintu. kintu

"khhobh" er kono ingriji hoy na ar deyaal ey matha thhoka chhara er kono mimangsha hoy na.

2009-12-02T00:54:00.000-08:00

Y'know, people say beauty is fleeting and time takes it away from you, it's nothing to dwell on. But if you are beautiful for thirty to forty years of your life, people adore you, life is easier, crowds move over for you, then that kind of confidence stays with you for ever. When you meet an old lady with that quiet confidence, you know she must have been good looking a decade or two back. Yet the whole damn thing is so transient and subjective, guided by commercial motives and ever-changing guidelines. Beauty, that is.

2009-11-25T00:42:00.000-08:00

A boy had his girlfriend over for the night in his rented apartment. She was leaving for her hometown , Patna, the next morning. A concerned neighbour called the police on them.

Two men from HaPo (Haryana police) charged into the house at 2 am making obscene remarks about the 'illegal activity' going on there, polluting the spotless clean neighbourhood where mothers carried children by immaculate conception, where respectable married people had respectable homes.

How much sir? How much money? Please don't call her father, he will have us both killed. Five thousand? Six?

Dekh bhaya, siddhi baat. Paise se kuchh nahi hotta. Ek ek bari hum dono ko teri chhokri ke saath chhore dey. Do ghantey mein raat khatam. Baat Khatam.

Of all the many different Indias, I hate this one the most. The hindi heartland.

2009-11-16T23:32:00.000-08:00

Is it odd that my mother calls me everyday to remind me to have sex? Is it odder that she never specifies with whom I should be fornicating?

Does this mean she is slowly coming round to accepting that I am slutty by nature and must fulfill my destiny by have an unbearably colourful sex life?

(Because, she knows my husband is not in town all week)

Could this mean that she somehow knows about my ambition to sleep with one man of every nationality in the world?

Or could she simply be asking for a grandchild?

The mystery.

To, everyone ...

2009-11-16T23:21:00.000-08:00

... who has said something about my rented apartment being too big-- jokes, snarks, sarcasm, plain surprise included.

I live alone most of the time and have little talent to practice and amuse myself. I NEED a mighty big apartment to play hide n seek with myself just to kill time.

My husband understands this as a basic need in our marriage and has therefore kindly provided me with the necessary space to do so.

Sometimes I also play catch with my shadow.

Kindly stop commenting now.

2009-10-26T03:55:00.000-07:00

Once I yearned for you to come to me like wildflowers when the field needs it. Suddenly.

Come, love, like the sudden rain on on an unbearably sunny day.

Now, I ask the rain, could you not become him and arrive suddenly? We could be one, without warning, like the rain soaking my clothes and hanging from my hair.

Your phone keeps ringing. You don't answer your phone anymore.

2009-08-06T20:24:00.000-07:00

Neel: Guess which film I managed to get my hands on. Just guess…

Me: Glass of Rage?

Neel: Yes!

Neel: But no subtitles.

Jonai is typing…

Me: Spot on, huh. Glass of Rage at the film festival in 2001. It was impossible to find! I guess you got it off the Internet, illegally of course.

Neel: Of course.

Me: I know you too well. Too bloody well. J

Neel is typing

Neel: J I don’t know what I should do about that though. There’s such a long trail of heavy destruction behind us. J Putting in way too many smileys but I am not really smiling.

Sent at 12:00 AM on Monday.

Me: ??

Neel is typing

Neel: Just watched this movie called Amu by Jonai productions.:)

Me: Hmmm. It’s a nice movie. How could something called Jonai productions fail ;)

Neel: J

Neel: It’s been three years since we saw each other, ya?

Me: Listen, I have to run. Got work.

Jonai has logged out of chat.

Of all the things that remind me of us everyday — television shows, books, places, names, faces, terrible haircuts, shirts torn at the sleeves — the metro rides are the worst. I still brave the traffic and heat and dust over the metro-compartment time machine.

We’ve spent three years, stuck like an old vinyl LP that has stopped on some random phrase of a song, which suddenly has so much meaning on its own. Hammering the message into your mind with mechanical repetition.

“Darling you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?”

1 COMMENTS:

Piggy Little said...: i loved the lines off the old vinyl LP the most. a befitting end to the one of really nice posts after a longish wait.; August 6, 2009 10:41 AM

2009-07-01T06:44:00.000-07:00

My wedding day has always been a bit of a lemon in my mouth. The photos and videos have been locked away and I rarely look at them, lest the sourness rushes in, resulting in the inevitable finger-pointing between my husband and me. It's unfortunate that such a special day be thus ruined for anybody, but it's O.K. Worse things have happened.

At my wedding party, my mother's face looked painted pink. It looked like she was making an effort to look pale skinned while being deeply brown. Many comments were made-- all of them from my in laws and not all of them directly to me -- on my mother's appearance, her apparent eagerness to look "fair" which had caused her to look like a pantomime artist, her perceived lack of good taste and makeup skills. One random lady from my husband's family recently came up to me at an event and almost without context, said "tomar ma k dekhe monay hoyechhilo khub old fashioned, conservative, na? " (Your mother appeared to be rather old fashioned and conservative when I met her at your wedding, no?) I knew there was a translation for this, which read as, "your mother is not polished and sophisticated like us, no?"

I did not answer this woman at the time since it seemed to me that validating her question with any explanation will be an insult to myself and to Ma. I simply smiled and turned my face away. People who know me and my family, my friends for example, who have spent many many nights in my house-- with perfect freedom to think of my parents' house as their own, have been drunk and stoned, have burnt down our living room couch, have borrowed saris from my mother-- know my her as a woman who is anything but old fashioned. Fortunately for me, none of my friends have been people who considered speaking fluent English, or blindly imitating the West as a sign of progressive behavior. To shun all things Bengali in an effort to appear cosmopolitan has been scoffed at by my immediate and extended family and by my large and rather accomplished circle of friends. So, in these circles, Ma has neither been old fashioned nor conservative. She has simply been a middle class, educated, Bengali mother, who also happened to be a banker for 27 years of her life.

My family consists of three people. Ma, Baba and me. It's your atypical Indian nuclear family. When it came to the traditional Bengali wedding of their only daughter, these two people nearing sixty, my Baba and Ma, pulled off a wedding party with a 700plus guest list with amazing aplomb. The venue was perfect, nothing malfunctioned, services were payed for on time, the guests were received with a smile and a nomoshkar, the food was sumptuous and there was enough of it for everybody. No one went away with any complaints, which is generally the mark one aims to hit at any Indian wedding.

On the day of my wedding, right up to the time to leave for my wedding venue, Ma was working. Taking care of big and small details, while continuously supplying people who were getting ready in our house with whatever they needed--safety pins, water, hair clips. You know, the little things.

She wore her sari in the bathroom. Tied her hair without a mirror. She then put on her jewellery and her make up in the car on the way to the wedding hall. Looking her best was the last thing on her mind as she worried about things being even a little less than perfect on the wedding of her only child. And yet, her sari was exquisite, her jewellery tastefully matched, her thick, long, black hair in a simple but tidy plait falling down to her knees. Once at the venue she remained collected, gracious and charming, right up till the moment when her blood pressure shot up and she quietly, without a fuss, removed herself to a small room at the back, where she collapsed and had to be treated immediately. This was done so surreptitiously, that I learned about this much later and most guests still do not know of it. The wedding went on without any diversion.

In her youth, Ma had been a striking woman, tall and slender, with long thick hair, an easy smile and great taste in clothes. She turned heads at a lot of places and had many admirers.

And at 52, I would not hesitate to say that it requires a rare kind of beauty and charm to look as good as she did on that day, even with slightly off make up. Would you?

2009-06-12T00:02:00.000-07:00

I was a very slow and stupid kid. I am a slow and stupid adult, but just more careful. So , I was standing in the balcony in my house in Salt Lake. I always put things in my mouth if I'm even slightly suspicious that it's sweet. Then I spotted something on the grill that looked like a homeopathy mediciner guli. Popped it into my mouth and then...ew ew ew..thhooo...thhooo

It was lizard potty. The black potty was right next to it, I hadn't noticed.

If someone tries to insult me by saying, "EAT SHIT!", I can say I already have.

2009-06-05T10:19:00.000-07:00

"Chasmish! Chasmish! Beta, tum kahaan ho, beta..."

"Itna sannata kyon hai bhai?"

My whole face curled up like a burning piece of plastic and hid under the nose-bridge of my big black glasses.

Years later, when you said to me, "you look better with your glasses", I decided to believe you. From then on, I disregarded everything everybody had ever said to me and believed only this.

I look better with my glasses on.

2009-06-05T10:16:00.000-07:00

Do you have a jiggly belly?

I do.

Do you hate my jiggly belly?

You probably don't, but I do.

Do you hate me?

You probably do, but I don't.

When RayRay becomes like boiling dishwater: Nasty and scathing. Mu. Ha. Ha.

2009-04-21T01:03:00.000-07:00

B: And RayRay lost it! She was yelling her top off at him. You should have seen her!

Gorjuss: Oooh, let's not talk about this. How unpleasant. Why r u bringing it up?

RayRay: No no it's OK...I was merely yelling at the guy, Gorjuss. Not shooting him or instructing my brothers to shoot him, like M had suggested. I would have taken the advice if this was in U.P., but, you know...

Rawking (glorious indignation): Shoot him? You think shooting a man to death is funny? It's not funny at all (like she just said the most profounds thing ever pronounced after "Let there be light".)

RayRay: No of course I DO NOT! (fake indignation) For example, if you were shot to death right now I would think it would be a terrible tragedy. For other people. But, still.

Everyone laughed out loud. Including Rawking!

Only I didn't. Cuz I never forgive people who piss on my parade. But God knows the tide is turning.

The Wheel of Karma hasn't turned full circle though. The pain and humiliation you inflicted on me and my loved ones still makes me wake up some nights shaking with rage. Because of you the most precious memories I am supposed to have are so coloured by your hate that I try not to look at photos of that day, try not to think of that day, try not to talk of that day: that day which was supposed to be my biggest day.

When The Wheel comes full circle, you will be reminded of what you did, every.single.day. I promise.

Five totally hilarious/random snatches of conversation you have heard in the last five days.

2009-04-21T00:59:00.000-07:00

Me: Piya why are you wearing sneakers with your formal trousers?

Piya: They are not sneakers, they are designer shoes. They are silver and they glitter.

Me: They are grey, not silver and they don't glitter.(Everyone: yes yes grey grey, sneakers not shoes, etc.)

Piya (sounding really earnest): Listen, I have a very painful ingrown toe nail, OK?

Me: Is that why you are wearing covered shoes?

Smile freeze. Silence.

Mark: I knew Armaan Kohli (of Jaani Dushman) in school. He used to drop his pants for money.

III

Radio meow! : Delhi!!! It's Internation Hum Day today! Partaaaaay!

Me (with wild glee): It's international Hump Day today?!!!?!

Ashwati: rmm...HUMMM day (giggle giggle)

Ipshita : hysterical laughter

Mark pretends not to have heard this converstation that just took place in the seat next to him.

Husband enters room. Me: Ya?

Husband does not answers, fiddles and fumbles around the room for three or four minutes and while leaving the room, gets really angry and barks: "What did you mean by "ya?"

Me: You know, some mornings I am so divided about what I should wear. That's how I get late! What about you Mark? Don't you ever have, like, maybe a pink day?

Mark: No, this is my most adventurous shirt. (It was blue with blue pin stripes).

Upasna Kakroo at 3:41pm March 27
:D Ipshita resents she's mentioned on a public portal ( but we're all hving a good laugh ) ;)

Sohini Bhattacharya at 4:05pm March 27
I love the Jaydeep story!

Ashwati Michael at 4:45pm March 27
this is beyond hilarious ;) and the prime target of 2 convos doesnt get to see it.

Jeny Elizabeth at 4:49pm March 27
Perfect Friday afternoon! A cup of coffee, drizzle outside and Sree's notes ;-)

Mark Lobo at 5:06pm March 27
and all along I thought you said "Int'l BUM day"

Jeny Elizabeth at 5:14pm March 27
hahahahahaaa

Upasna Kakroo at 5:21pm March 27
the meow joke keeps getting better :D

Ashwati Michael at 5:23pm March 27
this keeps getting funnier ;)

Mark Lobo at 5:29pm March 27
Upasna - Tell Ipshita that Anurag might actually be on FB as well :)

Upasna Kakroo at 6:08pm March 27
she says he's too cool to be on fbk ;)

Sreetama Ray at 10:56pm March 27
Upasana: What does that mean? Ipshita is too cool to be on facebook?

Upasna Kakroo at 12:26pm March 28
sree it means Ips things Kashyap is too cool to be on fbk...I hvnt quite understood her idea of staying away from fbk tho' :)

Abhishek Shirali at 1:26pm March 28
This is absolutely hilarious.. The muscular conversation was the best.. Which of course is missing now..Also..on behalf of husband abhishek would like to ask "what did you mean by ya?"

Pallavi Pinakin at 1:54pm March 29
LOL. Really?? You said "ya"? That's my favourite! :D

Piya Kochhar at 8:55pm March 29
this should be a comic strip. (ps: they were so totally silver and glittering in certain florescent lights

2009-03-16T02:32:00.000-07:00

Brittoro hotay hotay ekdin balloon er moto urey jabo

othoba

eet shurki'r shomudrey tup korey toliye jabo

sheyidin geeye shanti

Note to self.

2009-03-16T00:21:00.000-07:00

khhoney ki zid mein yeh kyun bhooltey ho,

ki panaa bhi hota haye.

woh pal abhi waisa hi haye, chhora tha woh jaisa, wahi.

2009-03-11T21:39:00.000-07:00

Sweetie: "After a certain age, being painfully self conscious makes you look ludicrous." Sweetie told me this in 2002. I am guessing he obviously felt that certain age had been reached.

But, when am I actually going to reach that age? Anyone?

Also, how, God, how do I master the art of :

A. cracking up over things I do not find funny

B. continuous complimenting of people, situations, places, dogs, embroidery and other sundry things.

I blame my genes for this, having been born to solid, middle-class, earnest parents who never even gave me a compliment unless it was true.

I'm feeling a bit of a lemon.

2009-03-09T08:56:00.000-07:00

shobai bolechhey ami onek roga hoye gechhi. tar maaney nischoi ekta shomoy ami brihot theke brihottoro hoye cholechhilam kintu keu amake boleni. ekhon jodi ami roga hoi, tar maney ami agey ki doityo chhilam?

ami majhey majhey shopno dekhi j brihot hotey hotey gas balloon er moto urey gelam. ami jani eta manoshik oshukh ekta. kintu ei oshukh ta amar bhalo lagey. kichhu neeye toe bhaba proyojon jiboney.

ps: shrill golaye jara ghyan ghyan korey taader amar nehat e opochhondo. unfortunately amar bor er shrill gola.

Be the change

2009-03-09T07:49:00.000-07:00

The world over, people are talking about being the change. So much has changed and so much is still left to alter. The urban Indian has evolved and changed everything with a veneer of correctness so hard, that it is now a crime to want to birth a boy. Change has ensured that we no longer have the freedom to juxtapose the words ‘domestic’ and ‘goddess' in the same sentence. It is unacceptable that anyone with intelligence and imagination may express her desire to be a housewife. It’s all in good intention, of course, but the sheer oppression of this kind of change makes want to oppose it, to be the foil. It needs mad courage to counter to this, to both believe in the hijab and in liberation, to differentiate accurately between promiscuity and sexual empowerment. I am not so brave. Also, change in my very personal context is a hard and bitter thing I wish for everyday. It makes me regurgitate the food I eat, it makes me hate the things I love, it makes me relentlessly resentful. And, inspite of all this sound advice about being the change, the prevalent get-up stand-up philosophy, I don’t think I can ever be the change I want to see. This is probably because I desperately wish for everything in my life to be different. A different reality, for which to happen, I would have to go back in time and undo or redo, or choose to do things that I now understand were entirely my own conscious decisions.
There is nothing in my current circumstance that I wish would not go away, nothing I consider indispensable to my being. My mother says having a child will prove to be the one thing that is, but I’m afraid it will be taking too much of a chance.
I wish the house I live in was different, the city the house is in was different, the marriage I am in was different, the job I have was different, the way I am , the way I look, the way I think, the way I interact with people around me, the people around me-- all of it was completely different.

What’s worse is that everything that is, is not because they simply came to be. I look back at my whole life and I can see the game of domino unfold in slow motion. I can identify each moment in time when a falling domino tile hit the standing one and the exact place where it did and how the next one fell and the next one and the one after that. The first push, of course, was mine.
I wonder if things would be significantly changed if I had done the alternative to everything. Chosen option B to every option A. Isn’t it so very unfortunate to be able to clearly see what could have been? To see it, to know it and be aware of it in such minute detail and such alarming clarity? So intense is my desire to be in a different life that I want to alter the image I see in the mirror. My happiness has been held hostage by how much fat is on my body. I have never been a skinny person, not even as a child, yet there is nothing more in the world that I want, nothing more central to my happiness, than to achieve a goal weight where I no longer look like myself. Where I have become the change I want to see.
In the end, however, it’s the saddest thing to be in a beautiful place and feel alone without actually being so. Who can say how I will feel if I am a painfully skinny person but still in that same photograph . I suspect the feeling won’t be very different. Perhaps the only change will be me.

OK, so

2009-02-20T10:07:00.001-08:00

The previous posts are from another blog, for which I occassionally write. It's quite the place to go to, btw.

So the thing is, I had no idea how to get those posts to appear here without copy pasting them. I also wanted to keep the comments, so I copied them too. And this is not just because I am a attention whore, but also because some of that stuff adds to what I have written and some are just plain endearing.

I am going to Singapore this morning, bright and early at 4 a.m. (not so bright maybe, but I'd definitely call that early) to meet J on the momentous event that is my very first, spanking new, wedding anniversary. I've never had one before, so I am hoping this one goes well.

PS: If anyone visits, will you please let me know how to put up a side bar, which will have a list of the blogs I love and some which I will put up just so you can come and say : "WTF was that?"And I will say, "See? Ain't I much better?

Aslo, muchos alarming right this moment-- it's almost midnight and I cannot sleep for fear of having wake up at 4 in the morning. C'est ridiculous, eh? Oh, and here's a photo of where I will be by Monday morning, the white sandy beaches of Bali. I know, I know, I really don't have a heart.

The T and Me

2009-02-20T10:00:00.000-08:00

T: I didn't sleep at all last night, I am sooo sleepy.
Me: Why? When did you sleep?
T: Around 10
Me: When did you have to wake up?
T: About 8 this am.

My friend T is one of those rare women who falls asleep during the day if she does not get her daily thirteen hours of sleep. She sleeps at parties, movies, restaurants, and during or after consuming alcohol; amid killing din or deafening silence. She is skinny as a reed but can eat half a pound of cake when she is hungry and I am jealous of her.

T (while eating cheesy pasta): Hey I made tossed vegetable salad for you today. Try some.
Me (after trying some): This is raw cabbage and veggies floating in vinegar.
T (totally incredulous): Is it? But I tossed it! I took all the ingredients and tossed it in a bowl. Isn't that how you make tossed salad?

T makes me laugh. Not because she is funny but because she is plain ridiculous.She is the only woman I know who expresses her anxiety or stress by jiggling her breasts.She is also the only woman I know who has nursed me to health like a mother and worried for me, sitting on a first floor balcony, like a father waiting for his daughter to return from a date he disapproves of.

It's not that I love her because when she was nine and went to visit the museum, her mum joked that her feet were larger than the 15 feet tall statue of the mythical feet of Bramha and she has believed it for the rest of her life -- reluctantly and ungracefully accepting "big foot" as a term of endearment. It worries me that if I move from this city, our inability to chat on the phone might mean that no one who is far removed from the daily events of my life would be bothered with how well I am dealing with them.

What makes her endearing is, on the rare occassion when she is wearing a delicate shell-pink kurta, in her enthusiasm to dress up, she puts on so much and such uncoordinated make up that people become genuinely concerned.
"Why are you made up like a goth rock chick?"
"Shut up. That's not what she had aimed for." I hiss through my teeth.

She looks at the world through myopic spectacles, which look like she stole them from a home for the elderly. Not just that, this was the pair even they were preserving as an example of glasses worn by the 1940's career man. With these bottle bottoms, an oversized sweater some homeless person may have given her because she looked at them so longingly, she cries silently into her glass when drunk. At times like these, I know, she likes to just be left alone but then people fuss over her.People of all kinds love her because she is too kind to be rude and has a laughter so loud, Rajdeep Sardesai once forgot his lines because she was being amused at the other end of a very large office.

I love her because when no one is watching she sits alone and keenly observes her feet and sometimes applies mildly shiny glitter on her face to appear glamourous. But I love her most because when I ask her "How do I look?" she is the only person who says, "Not so good. You look like a watermelon."

10 comments:
moutushi said...
there are all kinds of endearments in this world..but this kind is one of the best! really really funny and sweet and warm!
February 16, 2009 11:33 PM
P. said...
Awwwwwwww........ I feel all fuzzy now. This will keep me smiling my way through this Tuesday morning! :)
February 17, 2009 9:53 AM
ash rose said...
Isnt it strange that the very facts and quirks that endear our girlfriends and make us love them more, are unforgivable in our men.
February 17, 2009 10:19 AM
penny-wise, pound-foolish said...
This one makes me wanna go awwwww!!!luv it Sree...
February 17, 2009 12:16 PM
Upasna said...
cheesy as it may sound... but this suddenly reminded me of a Backstreet boys song- 'what makes you different, makes you beautiful (to me)...'
February 17, 2009 12:20 PM
Penguin said...
This sounds so complete a relationship that I am at a loss of words to appreciate the feeling...But I can feel deep inside what you meant when you talked about having someone to understand the mundane events that somewhere are uphill challenges in day to day living
February 17, 2009 1:56 PM
Saya said...
Nicely written
February 18, 2009 7:19 PM
Sreetama said...
tushi: ya, ya, I am going to write one about you too. esp abt how being and older friend of mine than T, you still love it, without the slightest little taste of bitter, that I wrote this.Ash: That's not always true, as you will figure as life goes on.Penny: Thank you :)
February 18, 2009 11:11 PM
Sreetama said...
Penguin: Ya, it's the only fully functional relationship I have had Saya: :) Thanks
February 18, 2009 11:12 PM
Piya said...
haha, I love that last bit... reminds me of my sister, the one person whose insults are actually a way of showing love!
February 19, 2009 9:27 AM

Fashioned on a tag, is really a post

2009-02-20T09:46:00.000-08:00

10 random things about me and love I insist on telling you
1. When I met J, I was already with G. When I met G on my second day of college, I was seeing S. When I met S with the help of a cousin, I was with K. When K met me in Math class, I was fourteen. You walk towards the light, you walk into darkness, either way you are blinded.
2. One of the above-mentioned letters wanted to slap me in public for leaving him. He hatched a plot to get me to meet him in a place crowded by our peers and involve me in a loud row and slap me across the face, to let the world know I had hurt him. Sometimes, I wish I would have let him. I broke his heart and I remember that I did this.
3. There are two novels you will never understand fully, unless you have loved and lost the one person who made you believe in soul mate, or even soul for that matter. Devdas and Wuthering Heights.I unfortunately, wholly, completely understand both.
4. To this day, I regret refusing to kiss my fifteen-year-old first love. In a span of five minutes, he first mocked me, then looked amused and then moved to irreversible and total indifference.
5. When I was 17, G sat next to me under a tree in the rain and said, “You look so beautiful.” It was like he had complimented me into a coma. Not only did I not look at him and speak to him, I disbelieved him. I remember looking down at my muddy feet, shabby sandals and focusing on a tiny scab on my big toe and thinking, “I hate him so much for making me feel so ugly.” You gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.
6. In my life, I have learnt the hard way, that when you are trying to run away from someone and that someone clings on to you— not just that he holds on, but tries to hold you back with anger and love and resentment and love and spite and love, clings on so hard that he has his feet dug into the ground and his nails are clawing into your flesh— don’t leave.If you want to cling on to someone who is leaving you with your teeth and nails, don’t. They will leave.
7. “ I want to see you happy”…… “Actually, no. I don’t want to see you happy with someone else. I hope you are never happy. I hope you are never well.”I know love is not wanting your loved one to be in pain. But I also know this is nothing but love. Flawed, selfish, human kind of love.
8. I have barely ever had intense romance with anyone other than G. But if you rock the boat too much, even if you don’t fall out, you will get nauseous. I got positively sick. So I decided never to love anyone like a crucifix. I was not being stubborn or careful. I was just being curious.
One night when I got home from work, J and I sat on our beds, silently. The music was on, I was reading, he was playing a violent video game. We had a box of chocolates on the bed. Each of us silently ate one piece at a time, without looking at each other or talking. Slowly it became painfully sweet but we were being so greedy. The need to put one more piece into the mouth became more and more urgent. I don’t know when we both passed out from the chocolate. Through the whole thing, we had not spoken one word to each other. I cannot imagine one other person who I would do this with— abandon control, be nakedly greedy, be sloth, be gluttonous, be completely unmindful of the self—except for my husband, J. I have since abandoned my curiosity.
9. At parties or social gatherings, I sometimes try to make up for my skin and hair, back fat and belly fat with cutting wit and sarcasm. Mostly it works. If I really want to, I can shine and glitter, sending the hottest girl at the club crying to the loo. My eyes twinkle and I become a whole new me. Then I look across the room and I see J thinking, this is not really her. This one quizzical look, the knowledge that he knows who you really are, is being in an intimate relationship in my book.
10. Pick out a scar and explain how you got it. It’s a game I only play with the man I love.
Posted by Sreetama at 10:40 PM
Labels: cling, husband, intense, learning, love, random, real, soul mate

8 comments:
P. said...
"Flawed, selfish, human kind of love."And that's the way it goes... Sigh.Also, I LOVE the chocolate fest you and J. had :) Sheer delight to hear (earlier) and read (now)!
February 11, 2009 9:19 AM
Piya said...
This is moving, honest, true...and the chocolate story has now embedded itself into my top 5 "romantic scenes" of all time. Yes, I make such lists.
February 11, 2009 9:52 AM
ash rose said...
So looking forward to such moments of my own... now all i need to do is to find my soulmate. Its a strange sort of feeling reading through this as it - reassures me that it exists in a realtime dimension, disturbing coz I find myself envious of the ones who have it, and hopeful that I will find the heart that carries my heart within it.
February 11, 2009 12:29 PM
Penguin said...
of course, i liked the abyss part the most...it sounds so true
February 11, 2009 2:00 PM
Sue said...
You'll notice, all through the fights and the injured egos, marriage also seems to be about keeping on falling in love. A particularly complicated kind of love, it's true, but love nonetheless.
February 11, 2009 5:25 PM
moutushi said...
sob!our little girl is now a writer..and when she finishes her book ( which is around the corner) she will get an award.
February 16, 2009 11:43 PM
P. said...
"A particularly complicated kind of love, it's true, but love nonetheless."True! That does seem to be the essence of a reasonably happy marriage...
February 17, 2009 10:00 AM
Sreetama said...
P fullstop: I think thats the only kind i am capable of. Also, I have never met anyone really capable of the other kind.Piya: I know you make such lists. Ash: of course it's out there. sooner or late. rather sooner than laterPenguin: That part is true. Also Neitzsche. Sue: You're the wises owl and I love you. Thanks for coming :)tushi: yes, i am writing for harper collins. it's a million dollar book deal. also, next year, the Nobel. I'll mention you in my speech.
February 18, 2009 11:19 PM