Springtime...

Life is all about surprising oneself...and love has so many new definitions. Becoming single at the age of 24 has made me something I wasn't ...I date men, fall in traps knowingly - all the way knowing that it would end in a few months or days. What I'm writing is super controversial, but understand readers.. that it's all out of this sheer warmth a person has who stays away from family and needs to share love. Also, I'm glad I get good people.

Like lately, (I'm rubbing my hands before writing this) I have found this awesome man...a real one true to his roots, who even after being with the love of his life has been infatuated with me. Not that I'm encouraging...It came naturally and we'd be friends forever...but its a bottomless pit for me and I'm gonna fall deep down some day.
Life as a post modernist where each person has his own value system, I have my own set of rules, and the rules are least politically correct! I'll be straight on the face- I believe that if this world is deemed to come to an end tomorrow, we would want to kiss every mortal soul we've loved and longed for!

And so, since the end of my relationship, I live on this ever lasting free stage, its whimsical,interesting, experimental and satisfying. Now if anyone's thought of this life as "casual", i beg to differ...for I hate the word casual, the worst use of it as "casual sex". I would never do it, its demeaning to the soul. Youth is practically seeking emotional acknowledgement through one night stands - men and women in the hospitality industry to be counted amongst the forerunners. I'd be perceived as a traditionalist in such a crowd...a "simple" girl as they say.

To find the man I would want to spend a life with, I might be dancing around, watching movies, dining out, going on drives , coming back to my room with the realization that the right man is just round the corner...but the best part about it is that i never come back with a regret, I love myself for this for I can look into my eyes each day and smile. Now this happens when you're true to your own rules, and my rules are sweepingly changing, yet limiting for my own good. For who loves to justify? not me!


Coming back to my current best buddy for whom this post is dedicated-

It is spring, And the ledger is opened again.
From the abyss where they were frozen,
those days suddenly return, those days
that passed away from your lips, that died
with all our kisses, unaccounted. - Faiz Ahmad Faiz - Translation by Agha Shahid Ali.

Last aficionado

He left me that brown scarf…
Carelessly I had snatched it from him, and made it mine,
His pet seized, not a shred of despair broadcasted – “it just looks so robust on you!,” he said.

The conscious took stage, and the parting approached,
It dawned upon us conversely, that this wasn’t a petite departure…
It was the final, the cult, a perpetual goodbye.

“And so, who was to guard the scarf?,” I asked.
He hesitated, hushed me to take advantage over it.
I wavered, for it smelled of him – the risk of its emotional bondage I had predicted.
But there was no flipside,
and just like that, he withdrew to where I would never call him my own…
Now, the scarf lies in my wardrobe…brown with greys and shades of white,
Persistently uttering in hushed undertones – “I want to retreat to the same neck, that of my precious beholder, for I find no warmth here…”

Detached

It’s weird what distance does to the warmest of souls. Me for instance… my father complains that I have become detached from home. “How else are u supposed to bear with long distances?” - I ask him. And I hate to admit it, but my town doesn’t give me many opportunities. But its haunting me nowadays – that while I’m busy living my youth, my parents are getting older. In the last 6 years, I’ve witnessed my mother’s eyesight going weaker, she developed sacrolitis tuberculosis, cannot walk for more than 500 metres… my dad developing back ache (he is one tough man…he looks bad when weak)…

And now its time for my brother to move on too… He has his own interests, aspirations…would move on to a big city. It’s a known secret amongst family and friends that my parents don’t exactly love each other. I haven’t seen them kissing (I wish I had), never saw their doors latched, never saw them hugging, they never wanted privacy, they never talked, never travelled alone, never saw into each others eyes, never held hands, never walked together, never wanted to see the same television channel, never shared any interests… now that’s where my worries begin. They simply can’t be with each other alone! Old age would surely force them to live through it all collectively, but… I know how agitated they would feel in the absence of a third party (always acting as an anaesthesia). I remember hearing them fight and putting on my headphones to stop the noise, I remember my brother do the same when he grew up. I so didn’t want bhai to go through all of this hoping against hope that they would fall in love as time passes by…but they never did.

I feel like an advocate between them, but for whom do I advocate…and nobody dares to be the judge! How do I solve all this? Is it even my business? Yes it is – no its not …huh…

And that is why I need to study, really study–make it my second nature to know literature to the core. That is the only way to become a superb lecturer some day. Nonetheless, I don’t want to leave my passion for journalism. The profession freaks out old folks…but mannn those fashionistas, those fake smiles, those hidden intentions, rushed interviews, colleague tittle-tattle, girlfriend scandals, perks, drives, champagne, celebrities – I loved it till I lived it! And I want to live it again…I hope they let me.

Assimilating my life and my family life is a charge I need to embark on charily.
Things won’t be straight ever but I need to clear the stairway to move out and take in some air…