Flashback

Amma has always been this aloof person who would talk endlessly about everything peripheral but nothing deep. I don't remember her talking much about her childhood or struggles though all of us has an idea of what transpired in her life before she married achan. 

Oflate, she has been telling me stories of her childhood - especially of her father. 

I have never been lucky to experience the presence of grandfathers; both grandfathers passed away before my parents got married, but I grew up hearing stories of my paternal grandfather from my grandmother, my father, aunt and even other relatives. All of them remember him fondly, though I infer he had been a strict father to my father and uncles. My maternal grandfather however passed away when my mother was barely 9, so I never bothered to ask her anything about him, assuming she has little memory of him. But lately, I realise, her memory is vivid and she remembers him fondly. And I also infer she started telling me stories of her childhood post her cancer treatment, so maybe, despite us giving her everything we could, she might be missing the family she grew up calling her own - her parents and siblings. 

Everytime she starts her stories, mostly out of the blue, I make sure I give her full attention. Because I would never know her life before me otherwise and she may just stop telling them if I didn't listen. 

And it's a solid reminder for me that no matter who we have in life, when things go wrong, all we wish for would be our parents' presence (if we are lucky to have less toxic family) no matter how old we are. So I want to cherish every moment with them. 

With that, I am gonna nudge her to narrate something from her memory, so that it stays with me even after she passes on. 

All My Past Lovers

 The title might make you judge me a bit, well, if you have been reading my blogposts, you already would have made a judgemental picture about me and my constant love musings, but then, it is who I am, and I am a lover girl - I always need someone to love, even if it's not reciprocated, I am so obsessed with the idea of love and it getting reciprocated someday, and I have come in terms with it. As my reader, maybe you should too. 

Anyway, I want to tell you about all my Past Lovers. Oh there had been umpteen short term crushes and "a lot like love" episodes, but these men, I am certain, still make me yearn, ok, not all of them, but sometimes, I wish things were different for all of us. And here, I am going to tell you about my loves. 

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AKG

I was barely 19 when I met A. A wrong phone call. Which lasted throughout the night. We never really met-met, but we got to know each other through voice, mostly him telling me his lores and I, awestruck by a life that I have only seen in films. We became close friends over time and spoke hours and hours over phone every night. 

It was around this time when this boy from college told me he likes me. I liked him too, as a friend, so I didn't know what to say. I went to A. He asked me to say yes. I did. It went horrible. I hate that man to this day. My first ever heartbreak. Even more reason to kill myself. I was in shambles. A was there throughout. Protecting me, supporting me. That was all I wanted in life, a protective, supportive, understanding and caring man. And that man was right in front of me, consoling me to move on. I fell in love. Head over heels. First love ever (after Hrithik Roshan) but this time, quite serious. I told him. He laughed. He said we are friends, we will remain friends. I couldn't accept. I through tantrums. He took it all. I behaved exactly like the most toxic girlfriend ever. He took that too. What a forgiving man. I fell harder. He didn't. He started giving it back. I couldn't take it. I broke down. More than once. Cried. Begged. Virtually fell on his feet. He had had enough. But he kept in touch anyway. Though his demeanor had changed. He was there, but wasn't there. 

And then, one day, very casually, he told me. I always had this woman in life. We weren't sure where this was going, so we kept it as a secret. But now she is back in town, we are quite serious about each other, and are taking it forward. I know it hurts you, but it is what it is. 

I couldn't believe it. I was always delusional. I thought it was his way of getting back at me. To make me jealous. I was indeed jealous. But I didn't give up. I moved to his town. Found his house. Would literally wait in front of it to get a glimpse of him once. He never came out. One day, he said he wanted to meet. I was thrilled. I went to this coffee shop. He came with this girl. Introduced her as his girlfriend. I was broken. I left the city, for good. I finally accepted that he wasn't bluffing. I tried to move on. I almost got married to this one guy who was a friend. But I still couldn't get over A completely.  Until he got married. That was my closure. Or maybe half closure. The real closure came another decade later.  

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JG

Incidentally, years later, I dated a JG, but this lover of mine JG came into my life in 2013, when A was trying his best to convince his now wife, then girlfriend's parents to marry her and I was genuinely moving on from a love that was never mine. However, we were friends, we still are. 

JG was a client. I was freelancing at that point and JG was introduced by a friend as his business partner. We started collaborating frequently and it was completely professional, until I spoke to him once over the phone and fell for his voice. I know, quite silly. 

I started initiating personal conversations, he obliged, and we started meeting too, whenever he was in my town. 

On A's wedding, I had to travel to Cochin and had nowhere to stay (staying in hotels was an alien concept for me then) so I asked JG, who was living alone in a posh apartment whether I could crash at his place for a night. He said yes. And I went to his place. We spoke throughout the night and didn't even know when it became a day, and that was when I fell head over heels with him - a young man and a woman in a closed space, one with strong feelings, one confused, yet nothing physical. Bare minimum. But for a girl in her mind 20s, that was absolutely phenomenal. What a respectful man. I want him as my partner. 

His inconsistent behavior, tantrums, temper and playboy nature. None of it mattered to me then. I wanted to love. I wanted his love. He insisted me to stay for another night and I did. Still, platonic. But the next day, I realised, he also had another woman. And I didn't want history to repeat. 

But I was, by then, crazy for him. And this woman was someone I knew as well. Someone who he said he had feelings for but that was bygone. She was pretty too. I was insecure. I was confused. 

Then came months of hurt. Me turning out to be a laughing stock in front of his friends. Because I loved him. But I just couldn't turn my head away from him. Until one day, he called me and asked me to move to his place, right after we met. For work, he said. I said I didn't want to. Which ended up in an argument and both of us deciding to cut ties, impulsively. 

What followed was years of mental torture. Of letting him go, because of my impulsiveness. Of disappointing him. Of leaving his work, where he was dependent on me. Years later, the shameless, zero self respect person that I was, I went to him, asking for forgiveness. He did. We hung out. By then, he was dating the other chick, they were living together. His forgiveness was my closure. I was rejoiced. But I didn't want him to know that I still loved him. 

But the true closure was, when I started collaborating professionally with him again and realised he wasn't whom I thought he was. Probably still a womanizer, zero work ethics, and most probably a fraud. I stopped contacting him, and I still find it ridiculous for falling for him without even knowing who he actually was. 

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PG

PG and I met on a dating app. A petite guy on a bike. We matched and had a brief chat. He said he was into drives and weed. I said "me too", a blatant lie. He said he was going on a drive that night. I said pick me up. A man I have never met, I barely knew, and I wanted to go on a drive with him. Explains how silly, naive and impulsive I was. 

Anyway, he came that night. His dating profile said he was in his 30s. I thought he was lying, because he barely looked 22. I got in to his car. He asked where do you wanna go. I said Munnar. Off we go. On the way, he asked me to light a joint. I, who didn't even know how to light a cigarette, clearly failed. He understood I was bluffing. He lit the joint and passed it on to me, one puff and I pass out. The drive was cancelled. He dropped me safely back home. What a gentleman. I fell in love. 

But I knew I was never his type. So I asked, what do you want this relationship to be. I said, we could be good friends. I agreed.

He would visit often. Almost every night he would visit the apartment. He easily got along with my flatmates too. 

Stoner. Philosopher. Risk taker. Inconsistent. Someone I'd ideally keep myself away from.  But a good friend. His philosophies and perspectives eventually changed the way I look at things. 

So this boy would come, either with a bunch of weed, which he would crush and roll and pass along. Or chocolate. Or some nice food that he would pick up on the way. He would lend me money, but wouldn't expect it back. When I return, he would buy food and stuff for all of us. He was ready to splurge as long as he had money and we stayed friends.

He was nice that way. But, a little grumpy too. He brushed off my niceness - no hugs, no "text me once you reach home". All of that would be responded with utter rudeness. I would get hurt every time. But I wouldn't show. Until one day I exploded. And we stopped talking. 

But the worst was yet to come. 

He hooked up with one of the girls. 

He would still visit once in a while to meet the flatmates and I would stay in my room. Pretty awkward. What hurt more was, this was the man I had strong feelings for, and he was with someone else, right in front of me. It was terrible. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemies. 

And then one day he texted. We met and sorted out the differences. I had moved on by then. We stayed good friends. He started loosening up. I saw another side of his - soft, vulnerable, loving side. It was beautiful, I wished he saw what I felt for him, but he chose someone else. 

The lover boy that he was, was the sweetest I have ever come across. But, it all went to someone else, someone who took it for granted and eventually broke his heart. 

He would call me and tell me how much he loved her. He would cry like a baby. From the stone hearted boy I initially met to this - the real side was adorable, but would he feel what I felt for him? Never. But I enjoyed it anyway. Because whenever I visited him, he showed his excitement. This man who once asked me to stay away, would run to me for a hug. It was beautiful. 

I brushed my feelings under the rug. That was the best I could do for my sanity. 

We had a little misunderstanding eventually, and we don't talk anymore. I, who has zero self respect, reached out to him multiple times, but to no avail. At this point, I strongly believe he is dead. 😏 And I still miss him. We could have stayed friends forever, if not anything else. 

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Ofcourse I am a lover girl. Ofcourse I have dated in between, have had umpteen crushes, many whom I thought I was in love with. But the truth is, only these three could make my life harder by not letting move on. Everything else was passing fancy. Because I have always been in love with the idea of love. I always wanted love. That's the only thing I always craved for in life. So, if you show me a little bit of attention or affection, i tend to reciprocate. But I also come back to my senses soon, and will be out of your life sooner. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------There is this one person whom I met in my mid 30s, who I feel would be another addition to this list. But I am now taking my time to see whether I am actually in love with this person or that it's just that I no longer have anyone to fancy about at this point in life. 

Ever since I developed some political knowledge and become slightly open minded, this person seems to share the same wavelength. Well, no, maybe he is way ahead of me when it comes to his view on life and I am learning from him. The exact I'd love to have as my partner. My perfect person.

But guess what, that's also unrequited 🥲 and I no longer want to waste my time on men who would just not reciprocate my feelings. I am done. 

Good Old Memories

I wasn't lucky to experience to love and warmth of grandfathers but was more than blessed to have two grandmothers who compensated for the absence of grandfather figures. Though my paternal grandmother lived all her life with us, I was more inclined to admiring my maternal grandmother more. 

She used to live in a small, tiled house in the suburbs of our city and we would visit her once in a while. My father, so busy that he was, I don't have a memory of going on vacations or outings with him, but he made sure we visited our grandmother.

The first thing she would give me even until in was 6 or something was baby food! Oh! I love the taste of it even today and is still one of my guilty pleasures 😌 but the name of the baby food always brings her lovely face back into my mind. 

Ever since I could remember, she used to live alone with assistance from her neighbours whenever required. She was healthy and robust even in her 80s and living alone never really scared her, thanks to all the beautiful souls in the neighbourhood. 

I was a difficult child until my early 20s and threw tantrums left, right and center, but with her, I was different. I never wanted to upset her, not because she would punish or was rude, but she was my favourite and I always wanted to be in her good books. 

I hated fish back in the day, but when she cooks, I would relish every bite. She was an amazing cook, which sadly none of us inherited. 

She came to live with us for a couple of years and I loved lurking around her. She was petite and wore dentures ever since I could remember and had wrinkles on her hands, which is kids loved to play with. She was soft spoken and always had this innocent smile which I have started seeing in my mother these days. 

In her last years though, she had drifted into a phase where she barely was herself. She would blabber all the time, scream, make noises while sleeping and had become too difficult to handle. I had by then moved to another city for work, so I barely was with her. It is still painful to remember her in that phase, she became everything she never was. However, she had a peaceful death. 

She was indeed my favorite and I miss her every day. I fortunately have a picture of hers stored on the cloud, she in her 80s. Given a choice, I'd love to spend time with her and gobble on her delicious food. 

Good old memories. 

Am I loved?

 All my life, the one thing I always craved for was love. You know, the warm, soft, undeniable love. And I thought I never got it. Until I looked around. 

She texted, "are you ok? Do you wanna talk?" When I was drowning in sorrow. Another held me close when I broke down. The third person sent random goodies because she was thinking of me. Another sat me down and asked me whether I was happy, whether she was enough to make me atleast smile. He calls every week just to check in on me. Another reads my long ass messages amidst his busy schedule and takes time to respond. She listens to my long rant voice memos and calls it podcast without even complaining once. Another sends me songs that she loves listening to. Someone else calls me in the middle of night, high as fuck, in a different time zone just to get a birthday wish from me. The tear my mother drops when I say I am in pain. Someone plans a week long trips with me. Another includes me in her wedding plans and asks my opinion before she makes a final call. Someone trusts me enough to tell me their deep dark secrets. Another calls me just to say she loves me. 

If all of these aren't love, then what is?

Sure, the kind of love I have always craved for has more to do with romance, but the love my friends and family give me is beyond measure and I think I need to acknowledge it and  appreciate them for all that they are and all the time they make me feel special. 

Yes, I am loved and I feel truly special. ❤️

Unreciprocated Friendships

 For the longest time, I thought I was the queen of unrequited love. I mean, more than once have I fallen head over heels in love with people who had no feelings for me, and I kept at it for years. 

But recently, I had a realisation that I have been, unknowingly nurturing unreciprocated Friendships too. 

One thing about me is, when I love, I love with all my heart and it doesn't necessarily need years of knowing you. One act of kindness is enough. And maybe that's why for years, I have had umpteen "friends" -  People who were valuable to me; people I thought considered me valuable. But guess what! Your girl was wrong all the time. 

I learnt that people can be nice and kind to you, can even lend you an ear or shoulder or check on you when you are low, but that doesn't essentially mean you mean something to them. They are nice, that's all to it. But, just because they are nice doesn't mean you are their "friend". No matter howmuchever you love them, that's not enough for them, because you are not  their friend. You are an acquaintance who they like. One among umpteen others in their life. That's it. 

And that's why you need to draw that line and respect it forever. You don't have to give them more than what they give you. Or what they can hold. They can very well survive with or without you. In the sense, your absence may not matter to them, neither does your presence. So you give them that same energy - just be nice to them. Don't call them your friend. It's simple. 

This realisation has changed my life. I mean, today I have a handful of friends and lots of acquaintances. I make sure I can them that instead of calling them my friends. It has made me life easier too - I know where to pour all my love and where not. 

Life's so beautiful right now. 🧿

Imposter Syndrome

 I don't think even my close friends know this, but I fight imposter syndrome every other day. 

When someone tells me I write well, I can't take it as a compliment, all I'd think is that their standards are low. 

When I client says they have certain expectation from my work, my first instinct is to withdraw, because "I don't think I can match up to it."

When someone says they like my work and look forward to more, I feel an intense pressure that I can't explain. 

When a reputed brand approaches, I expect rejection. 

All of these to an extent that I have returned the advance amount to a client when they said they expect a beautiful content from me - I mean, I was certain I'd get rejected. 

To an extent that once I applied for a diploma course in Creative Writing , cleared all the papers with good score, and got my Project synopsis approved yet didn't finish it because they put a remark that "this looks interesting, looking forward.". Oh, I just can't do it.

I think all of these started with that one bad comment under one of my blog posts, which probably is still there, in this very blog, where the person said I should quit writing. I figured out who it was, and confronted years later and got a half-baked apology for pulling that prank, it stays with me to this day. 

My self-esteem has always been zilch, and this comment only made it worst. And I am fighting this imposter syndrome, even today, almost close to 2 decades later. It still haunts me:

"I am not good enough... I should quit writing".

And the irony is, it's my bread and butter and the demon is too big to even face. 

Sigh. 

How Looks Moulded Me

 Ever since I could remember, people were critical of my looks. Since my sister was on the darker and fatter side, she bore wrath more. But I was the one who was "adopted", one who resembled a monkey, especially with those fringes which was called "monkey crop" and slightly protruded gums. This constant pointing fingers at my looks also made me very critical about looks - mine and others. In my head, one had to have zero flaws to be considered beautiful. And to this day, I have come across only a few people who fit into that category. 

And then I grew up, putting on weight and picking on attitude. I pretended I didn't care what others thought, because I was ugly in my head too, so when someone made fun of me I'd laugh along. Because that's what I am - an object to laugh at. 

I have barely received compliments for my looks and every time I did, especially from the opposite sex, I'd just end up thinking this person has bad intention. They just want to get me laid. 

The male attention some of my female friends got had made me feel terrible about myself more than once. I have felt they are the star in the story and I am just an extra in this friggin' world. Just barely existing. For nothing.  

A certain bestfriend who would always remind me of how bad I looked. Despite being that himself, the judgements were over the roof. But ofcourse, I was convinced - he was right, I am ugly. 

And then came this boyfriend who while breaking up used my insecurities against me and told me that he was doing me a favor and no one else would want to be with me. Concreting the notion that I am ugly. 

Today, I get called beautiful, ironically for not the way I look now, but how I looked in pictures a decade ago. And boy, that hurts. Beyond measure. Because, a decade ago, I was still getting tips to transform myself to look beautiful 🥲

Today, I was reading this book "I Want to Die But I Want to Eat Tteokpokki", basically a prose by Baek Se Hee on her conversations with her psychiatrist and it felt so relatable. There is this part where the psychiatrist says her to stop looking life and everything in general in extremes - good and bad, black and white, beautiful and ugly and that hit me hard. Because that's exactly what I have been doing all my life - thinking in extremes. Why can't I just find a middle ground? Even when it comes to looks - mine and others'? Strangely, when I love someone or I meet a beautiful soul, no matter how they look, I find them beautiful. Why am I not being able to do that to myself? Why can't I accept that I am neither a bad person nor ugly as I think? Why do I expect validation from others? Why do I expect people to say I am beautiful back at me when I call them beautiful? Why can't I just accept myself for who I am? Why am I under constant critical radar? Why aren't I just breathing peacefully?

This. This indeed is what I am going to focus on this year amongst many other things to work on this year. I am glad I got this perspective to work on and hopefully, I'd feel better soon. 

A Love Like No Other

A love like no other. 

Pure. Genuine. Terrific. 

Yet with an expiry date. 

So much warmth, affection, peace and trust. 

So much love

Like no other. 

Never taken for granted. Appreciates kind gesture. 

Love. Only love. 

A love like no other. 

Pure. Genuine. Terrific.

Yet with an expiry date. 

Something that's never felt before. Something that's new and beautiful. 

Always by the side. Non judgemental. Calm. Healing. 

A love like no other. 

Yet can never be yours. 

Because it comes with an expiry date. 

Will There Be A Going Back?

One of the major inventions for humankind was the introduction of Internet. It made life easier, slowly but steadily. And then, to connect with fellow humans, social media popped up. And that's where life started altering. 

I am someone who has made a living out of social media, yet, I can't tell you how overwhelmed I am with this little thing, especially when it comes all handy in the form of a smartphone. Yes, I could always go back to the basics and purchase a regular phone with which only calls can be made and texts can be send but dependability and FOMO is real. As much as I am tired of this, I can't also imagine a life without it, how ironic! 

There are times when it gets too overwhelming. Like, when Instagram shows you a reel with content that's going through your head or things that you are worried about and then it's absolute chaos. I don't want to begin discussing peer pressure. It's all a mess, yet we are all consumed by it. 

I don't think there is ever a going back. Great if we could. Otherwise, I don't know what life would become. Technology sure has made life convenient, but at what cost? 

I am scared. I already feel lonely despite all these possibilities of making connections. There is nothing real. Everyone is busy scrolling. Noone has time for real connection. Even if you meet, all are busy clicking pictures for the gram. 

I wish I could go back to the orkut era with a lil faster internet and stay there. No meta. No fb. No ads. No WhatsApp. Kinda nice it was. Sigh. 

Ok I think I am done blabbering. Okbye. 

Adulting

 As a child, like almost everyone else, I just couldn't wait to grow up. I remember dressing up as an adult, draping a dupatta around, pretending it to be a saree, trying to fit into my mom's sandals wear SINDHOOR because once you are an adult, you get married and married women in my part of the world wear sindoor on the forehead, and also talk and behave like an adult. I thought adulting would be fun - you have money, you aren't answerable to anyone, you have all the freedom in the world, yada yada. And the joke's on me, because once I stepped into the shoe of an adult, I realised it's not rosy as I thought it would be. Heck! Adulting is hard. 

To begin with, money doesn't come easy, you gotta work fucking hard to earn a decent bit of cash. You are answerable to more people than you thought. If you are woman, freedom comes with a cost. You lose people - sometimes to misunderstanding, sometimes because one of you evolve into a better person and the other doesn't, sometimes to death... Your parents grow older and you dread the worst. And if you have partner and kids, you have additional responsibilities, fears and commitments... 

Oh! The list is long! I am sure, you can relate, because you are going through your share of the shitshow that adulting is. Fuck man. This isn't what I signed up for. 

Home That's Never Mine

 I've always been fortunate and privileged enough not to shift houses because my father had already established himself successful in his career by the time I was born and there was no looking back. However, I have lived in multiple houses once I grew up and that was a choice. 

The first time I moved houses was when I was barely 5. When my father decided we deserved to live in a bigger house. The house that was our home was also his, which still holds some fond memories - playing with cousins all the time (what else would a 3-4 year old do), some friendly neighbours, lots of movies and music, cuddles with mom and grandma.... So on and so forth. Strangely, none of my memories from that period features my sister, because she was truly absent from my life. 

And then we moved to this bigger house, where I grew up. It was beautiful, filled with furniture and people, but empty. I barely felt happiness in that house. I had noone to play with, no one to share my happiness and sorrows with... Everyone was busy with their own things and the loneliness eventually made me the spoilt brat which I am not proud of. 

Even though I have lived in that house for over 2 decades, it never felt like mine. It was my parents' and I just couldn't wait to go as far as possible from all of them. That house still remains but it never felt like home, though that's were all the memories reside and strangely keeps popping up in my dreams as my current home. 

Eventually I moved away to another city and has lived in hostels, PGs, shared apartments and even though I have had a ball of a time in some of these places, even they didn't feel like home. They were crashing pads. Nothing else. 

And our current residence. A much smaller space, where my parents have been living for over a decade, and I joined quite a few years ago. This place has a warmth to it, though it is congested with all the furniture from the big house and all that, but I has a calmness that I cannot begin to explain. Maybe because we started living here when we all had evolved to better humans and started accepting each other with our flaws - well, to be honest I don't know whether that explanation is applicable to my parents but I have certainly changed. They are in their last leg of life and I probably have some more of life left to experience, and in this house we have seen the kind of misery we never experienced earlier, but even then, even when it's still my parents' house, it does feel like home. Finally, a place I can call my home. 

I do have a dream of having a space of my own, where I'd thrive, but until that dream becomes a reality, this is home. And I have been treating it that way. Maintaining it, taking care of it. Truth to be told, it took a while to embrace it, but I am glad I did... And it reflects in the quality of life and bond that we share right now. 

Ofcourse there are still times when even this one doesn't feel like mine, but that is momentary. Also, I have come to terms with the fact that, a speck of dust that we are in the cast universe, is there anything that's truly ours????? 

Moving On

 Until recently, death would bother me. Funerals, even more. 

As a professional overthinker, a funeral place firstly reminds me of the time I lost my brother, and it pricks me so deep, the vivid memory of him lying motionless in a glass box... And then other thoughts creep in - the moments that I dread - death of my loved ones.

The bawling, the rants, the pain, the grief - all of them take me to a realm I never want to experience. A gentle reminder that life is unpredictable and death is the only certain thing. That we are all growing old and the people I looked upto growing up, the presence of humans I felt all through my life, all of that is slowly going to fade away. Parents, uncles and aunts, cousins and friends... All of that's gonna go. Slowly, but certainly. 

And that thought and feeling inject and undeniable pain in me, and I have often found myself sobbing in funeral homes of people I have barely known. Until last week.

Last week, I attended a mourning of a relative and to my surprise, after a long 11 years of experiencing grief of what the future beholds, I found myself not experiencing any of that. It's a first in over a decade and it was peaceful. It was just another passing away of a random relative and that was it. No grief, no pain, no overthinking. 

And I am so glad I noticed. No anxiety. No pain. No low mood. No sobbing. Maybe this is what they call healing. Or moving on. And I am glad, I am getting there. Not because I don't fear any of that anymore, but that I am finally getting myself prepared to face it all. 

Matches Made on Apps

 You swipe left and left and more lefts.

And something catches your eye. A smile. 6'2". "Here for meaningful conversations." "Looking for something meaningful." You think, may be this is it. You swipe right. "It's a match".  You need to initiate a conversation. You send "hey". You get a hey back. A few back and forth of small talks. They say "beauty is subjective, I prefer inner beauty than looks." "I am not a ghost. I am going to show up. I believe in connection". "I am an old school romantic. I am here only because what other choice do we have." You think, oh wow, these vibes. Maybe this is it. Then they go silent. Minutes. Hours. Days. You wonder why. And then, you try to initiate conversation.  And then unmatch. You, an already anxious, low self-esteem, self reflecting, insecure person, feels terrible. You think you are the problem. You curse yourself for being a terrible person, for saying something that might have triggered them. You feel responsible. But it's over. You can't fix it anymore. You drop a tear. And then you move on. You go back to swipe left and left and more lefts. And then comes another right swipe. And it's a match. and the never ending loop. 

Where did all the old-school romance disappear? Maybe amidst all these apps, where people are commodities and totally reachable all the time. It's a match, even when it's not. Heaven is taking a break, I suppose, and I end up "matching" with all the wrong ones. 

The initial butterflies. The thrill. The kick. Disappears in a few minutes. 

You yearn for that romance. The love that sweeps you over. Long conversations. Baring the deepest part of your soul. Connection. The person who feels like Sundays. Your soulmate. Where has it all gone? 

Take me back to the old times. Where love is felt right. Not swiped right. 

The Idea of Love

I have been wondering offlate whether I have ever been in love! 

I mean, ofcourse, there have been multiple instances where I have yearned for certain people and wished to be their something, but then, as I grow older and quite wiser, I feel I was never in love with them. 

I was in love with the idea of love. Even the slightest of attention, or even a smile towards me made me feel special, and that, I realise, was because I have never really felt special ever in life. 

And do you know why? Because I never thought I was special, to begin with, and the burdened others with expectations, it was too much for them to take. 

It took me a while, but atleast now, I mean close to 40, I get this epiphany that the special feeling I have always yearned for, should come from within. Ofcourse, that doesn't mean to be on a narcissistic or selfish level, but close to reality - accepting self as who I am and getting better each day for self and others. 

Pretty straight forward, ain't it? 🥹

Ok, I am blabbering. Bye. 

The Spark - Season 2, Episode 1

9 years ago. Or so. I don't remember the exact time period. 

One lazy afternoon. I swipe right and left through the dating app. "It's a match", comes the notification. An extremely handsome, young man. Way out of my league. We start chatting anyway. He walks me through his life right away. Not a pretty scene to be in. I believe all of them. I sense he wasn't in a good place. One of the many I was talking to. I am way off his league, so I am not even trying. No effort. But I look forward to his texts. 

They are random. Nothing interesting. Yet, kept me hooked. One day we decide to meet. I reach first. I wait. There comes a tall handsome man. A little off from the pics. Maybe the depression, I sense. We enter the restaurant. We talk. About random stuff. Not even a moment of silence. We talk like we have known each other for ages. No dull moment. We step out. I ask him to drop me at the cafe nearby, where a couple of friends were waiting. We enter the car. He tells me he had a good time and we should do this often. We reach the destination. We hug. We part ways. 

The usual, texts, once in a while. And then I meet with an accident. Down for a month. No texts throughout the period. I confront. He lashes out. He's in a much worse place, I realised. But I was still upset. I give up. Until one day, I get a heartbreaking message from him. I am numb. I want to meet him. Hug him. Console him. But I don't know where he stays. I call, the number is off. I give up. I could have tried, it wasn't difficult. But I never tried. And it was over.

Years went by. But, I think about him often. I stalk him online. He seems to be in a much better place. Left the country. Doing his own shit. I want to reach out. But, thoughts creep in. Was I ever relevant to him to even recognise me? Does he remember me? Should I want to look like a creep? I restrain from doing creepy stuff. 

Once I casually mention this encounter to the best friend. Ping him, he says. He will think I am a creep, I say. It's been over a decade after all, I sigh. He may, he may not, just do it and see how it goes, the bad influence in my life tells me. I still don't want to do it. He has always been way off my league, there is nothing coming out of this, I tell myself. 

But the influence has made the influence. I think about him way too often. And then comes the "reaching out to them all" phase. Yet, I don't text him. We weren't even friends, I convince myself. Until one day, I build the courage and text him on LinkedIn. He is not gonna see it, he will think I am creep. I don't open Linkedin for a few days. There won't be a reply anyway, I think. I open for something and I see the 2 in red in the message icon. I open. It's him.

I remember you, he says. Keeps in formal and takes it professional. Ofcourse we are on LinkedIn. I should have known. I am both elated and disappointed at the same time. Elated, because I have manifested hearing from him, despite knowing it would never happen. Disappointed because... I don't know. What was I even thinking. 

And I break the ice. I tell him I tried reaching out to him, when he went off grid. His tone changes. He asks a few things and shares his phone number. I don't want to lose this opportunity. The universe gave me a second chance. But I don't want to screw it up. 

He opens up. Tell me about his journey. I tell mine. Glad we are in touch again, he says. I am elated, I want to say, but I keep myself in check. The day goes by. I want to talk more. I can't contain my excitement. I text. I am more than happy you responded. He finally uses an emoji. This is unreal, I tell myself. I read and reread our messages. 

Why am I excited, I ask myself. He is way above my league, I remind myself. I talk to myself. I tell myself things to give self a reality check. I wanted to hear from him, I heard from him, now I want more. The human mind is greedy, I proclaim. I pick up my blog, and write this down. I don't know what else to do. Maybe I'll let it be. Or manifest further. 

I don't know. I am just blabbering. Someone help me. 

Feeling alive

 Alone. 

Near the sea. 

Listening to the calming sound of the ocean. 

Watching the deep dark sky, ready to pour any time. 

The sweet smell of grass combined with the ecstatic fragrance of wet, muddy ground. 

The freshness of mint from the mouth freshener caressing the tongue

The exotic breeze tickling the skin.

My senses finally feel alive. 

Away from the madness of life and the stress and everything else in between 

I finally feel alive

All over again.  

The Epiphany

It has come to this.

Time went by

Waiting for the right time and right person.

Came across all the wrongs

But the right never came.

It has come to this. 

Never a fear

But the saddest reality

That may be you are meant to be alone

There are no fairytales, 

The happily ever after has no one but you

Living alone, dying alone 

The Epiphany

You are never alone

You have you. 

You have only you. 

 

Final Goodbye

 He looked into her eyes and smiled. She could feel her heart melting looking into his eyes. Matured love, she thought. This man knows what he wants. So does she. He said he is sure about her. She wasnt. Not so much. He, in totality is nice, but the specifics bothered her. But she brushed them under the rug and believed his words. Maybe she was being overly sensitive and looking from a lens of past trauma. This is a brand new person. Brand new experience. Give him a chance, she told herself. 

They stood like that, looking at each other until the train finally showed signs of movement. Her heart skipped a beat. He is leaving. The man who could be the one. But why is she sad? Was it because they wouldn't see each other again or that something inside her said this could be the last meeting? She wasn't sure. She bid goodbye and waited for his call. 

He did. There was communication. It was everything she wanted. There was love. There was warmth. There was constant attention. Everything she craved for. This is it, she told herself. Until one day, she noticed everything slowly disappearing. To a point where there were no calls. No pleasantries. No replies. 

I am busy, he said. How can someone be so busy that he doesn't have time to text the same? Wasn't this the same person who would sneak in messages between calls? How can his life change overnight? Or was it hers that changed? 

Wasn't something that she did? Did she stop caring for him, or is that what he thinks? Is she throwing tantrums? Is she being clingy? Or is it over? She just couldn't indentify. So she did what felt was right. She told him she can't do this anymore. He would say she was crazy, but this isn't what she signed up for. She didn't want to yearn for attention and love. She is a grown up woman. If she doesn't choose what's good for her atleast now, consider her the stupidest woman in the whole wide world. She didn't want that. She wanted peace. And love. If he can't give her both, he can go. 

She told him. This is the end. My final Goodbye. He didn't respond. Too busy to stop the woman he claimed to be hers. Too busy to even say a final Goodbye.  

But she was glad. She wasn't stupid afterall. She saw it through. Despite getting her heart broken into shards, she knew she finally, didn't cling on to something that wasn't meant to be. She let it go. For her own good. She is smart. 

Perspective Shift

 Okay, for one, I am really bad with titles and headings so kindly ignore.

The sky was cloudy. I thought I'll take a rickshaw anyway, even though it means shelling out some money. I stepped into the auto and as usual, the muscle memory, made me take my phone out and scroll through. Thanks to my migraine or motion sickness, whoever needs the credit, please take it... made me realize scrolling through the drive means splitting headache and everything else thar follows, so I gently pushed the phone into my bag, and looked around. 

The weather was pleasant (for me, I prefer cold over heat) and suddenly it started drizzling. Drizzle transformed into a thunderstorm and somehow that brightened my mood. I was taking my usual route, but after a very very long time, I cut off the inner chitter chatter and looked around. Rain occasionally sprayed on my face, thanks to the wind, and it felt heavenly.

A boy and a girl, smiling at each other, walking to the bus-stop under an umbrella, the boy's arms where around her shoulders - what a pleasant scene to witness. They might be a couple or just friends, but I wanted it to be the former and manifested a beautiful life ahead for them. 

A lady in a blue salwar suit, walking swiftly towards another bus stop. I hope she doesn't miss her bus.

Another couple... or friends... waiting under a building with a couple of other people, tension built up in the girl's face, it was certain all she wanted was the rain to subside. 

A beautiful Victorian building, serving as a government office now, beautifully drenched in rain. 

A swarm of vehicles waiting to reach their destination.

And a lot more. 

There would have been various emotions in this single ride, where mine was nothing but pleasant.

I realized, i have stopped observing the world like I used to do. It was either rushing from one destination to another, or a plight of thoughts covering my mind. And after long, when I looked around, I felt, the world is indeed beautiful. And maybe, I am missing out on a lot by embracing stress instead. 

It's Their World and I'm Just Living in it!

 All through my life, I thought, like everyone else, that I'm the main character, and that's where the conflicts in my life begun. It took me 35+ years to realize the most important reality of my life - It's everyone else's world and I'm just living in it! 

I've never been anybody's Numero Uno! My best friends from all the schools I have studied in had other best friends. My best friends in my adult-life also had other best friends. My parents had a favorite child and that wasn't me. (Ironically, my sibling thinks I was my parents' favorite, LOL) The first boy I got into a relationship with, had many girlfriends 🤣🤣🤣 All the boys I fell for and rejected my love have friendzoned me because they had solid relationships going on in the background, but all of them refused to share it with me, leaving me expecting them to reciprocate someday. I was kept in the dark. I have been a third wheel since time immemorial for all my girl friends. All the workplaces I have been it, no matter how hard I worked, and gave the best, felt I could have contributed further more. I was never enough. I never was. And I struggled, in all of these scenarios, to be the Number 1 choice. Through subtle manipulation to emotional blackmailing - I tried it all! (None of that was intentional) Because, how come I not be the Number 1 in a world where I AM THE MAIN CHARACTER?

And then, I slowly started hitting me that maybe I am not the main character. And I accepted it, and put myself in the sideline and accepted it as my fate - to survive in their world as a side character. To be honest, I easily gelled into the whole situation. Yes, it was super easy. Expectations drastically came down and I was also ready to take the bullets for all the main characters, because that's what the side ones do, right? 

This acceptance kind of started changing something in my life altogether. I started getting attention which I stopped seeking for. A few people started calling me their best friend, (I didn't even think I was important to them), I have more true, caring and understanding friends than I ever did, the boy I had a crush on said he has a crush on me ( fleeting moment, and he refused to accept it later, but I take it), some random guy called me beautiful (LOL),  someone called me I am the elder sister she never had and look up to me, my parents started appreciating everything I do for them, people volunteered to listen to my rants, even random toddlers smile at me and wanted to spend time with me (That's new! I have only intimidated them until then), my employers said they like me and my work... I mean, all of it started changing, out of the blue, and I think that's because I left the main character energy into the oblivion. 

But the problem is, I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THESE! I ended up thinking people are just bluffing, or doing it for the social media, or are being manipulative... When there are more than two people in a room including me, and there is a talk on SHE/HER pointing at me, I have, more than once, been shaken and surprised because "how come they noticed me? Am I not invisible?" And guess what! I end up intimidating all of them, shooing them away, mistrusting them, and believing that all of these are temporary. I mean how come people appreciate me, I am not the main character of this story!

But now, I think it's about time, I accept that I AM THE MAIN CHARACTER OF MY STORY AND I AM ALSO LIVING IN OTHER PEOPLE'S WORLDS WHERE THEY ARE THE MAIN CHARACTERS. That's the reality of it all, ain't it? Maybe I should just start accepting the love that's been poured my way instead of rejecting it saying I don't deserve it. I deserve everything good that's coming my way, and learn to embrace it. It could be temporary, but enjoy it while it lasts! 

And I am writing this not just to validate myself and my feelings, and all the validation that's coming my way, and be grateful about it, but also to tell YOU that stop thinking like I did. You are important, and you are loved and seen too. YOU ARE VALID! And most importantly, the ONLY VALIDATION you must seek should be from YOU! Everyone else is a side character in your story! 😙😙😙😙😙