Wednesday, October 22, 2014

I'm Going To Be An Author of A Book That's Called Oh Fuck Everything Sounds Dirty, Life Is Sorted.

You know when you happen to stumble on a picture of someone who you kinda worship and she's always been your mentor, and in this picture she's wearing a skirt? ...and it just looks wrong? 

Like Yoda wearing a thong?

Yoda jumps high wearing thong and lightsaber
This is the only legit picture I found on the internet, of yoda wearing a thong.That must say something.

And then I'm thinking...wait am I becoming some sort of a prude?

As if to prove a point, right then a sweet friend (SF) who also happens to be a doctor, texts:

SF: I just spent 2000 bucks  on food that I didn't enjoy at all.

Me: What did you order crow's feet? How is food that expensive not enjoyable?

SF: Er, I don't know why you think crow's feet is expensive. But we ordered Hilsa, Mutton and Naan.

Me: All of that sounds fine except the hilsa and the naan...that sounds awkward, like that situation where you use cooking oil for a lubricant and then the sun heats your skin up and then the next thing you know your tits are on fire. (Don't believe me?  Comment.No.23 )

SF: was going to say we ordered the fish for starters, but never mind then. Medically speaking though?  I'd actually like to see the whole flaming tits situation someday. You know...for experience. Never mind, no matter what I say from here on out, my brain's gonna go: Oh fuck, everything sounds dirty.

Me: Yes. Everything sounds dirty. That would be the name of my book if I ever wrote one. But maybe I'll change my name to something more exotic Hysteria James Bond, but more panic-y. 

SF: Times of India..."exceptionally unorthodox writer of the century" ..but wait, Hysteria James doesn't even sound mildly erotic.

Me: I wrote exotic, not erotic you perv.

SF: I'm kinda feeling terrible for reading exotic wrong. It's like I don't even know myself anymore. Forgive my inherent pervyness. 

Me: Really now, you're talking to the AUTHOR of Oh Fuck Everything Sounds Dirty. All bets are off. 

And just like that....I wasn't feeling like much of a prude anymore. 

Thursday, October 16, 2014

The Need For New Eyes

You know how they say your twenties are all about finding your roots? Those baffling years when you come home wounded and looking for answers. And somehow miraculously you find them in the place you grew up in, in the turn of a phrase your mother uses....before you know it you are enmeshed in this overwhelming warmth  and a desperate need to cling on to all these things and love them all over again right from the start?

Well that can't happen to me.

Because it's hard to distance yourself from a place you've been living in all your life. Of course I've had some amazing travel experiences.But if you were to graph geography against the number of years in my life it would be a rather flat curve.

It's like living with someone and not noticing them gradually losing/gaining weight. You've lived here all your life so yeah you know the landmark changes like that huge reservoir that got built, the new grocery store..the new mall that came up etc. But you don't quite notice the nuances. Like maybe if I went away for a bit and came back I'd see something that would strike know?

 And that's what really bugs me. That I can't see this with new eyes. I want new eyes (at the risk of sounding like Mad Eye Moody). 

However, I have been in a position to understand this. I've been going to my University for the past 5 years, studying in it, cursing lots of things about it. But I never did once stop and see how beautiful it is....

That Afternoon when the Sun made the waters glisten.

If you look closely, there's a sliver of a moon up there ~sigh~ I'd use the photo in its original glory  here but my blog is behaving like a fastidious Italian fashion designer.

.....and how if I'd just stopped and stayed a little while longer.... I'd hear its stories and not feel like such an outsider. 

It's a bit of a paradox really because I stay so close to the place, I could go there for a walk. But now it means so many other things to me. Instead of recalling all the happenings on campus I can't help but always count all the things I didn't do here.  I didn't stay back and catch up with my class mates after a long day of classes, over a steaming cup of coffee/tea (as is the usual custom), I didn't attend extracurricular clubs (debating and photography would have been my choices), I didn't open up to my professors (it kind of goes on but I'll stop here.You're welcome.) 

Now it's  bitter sweet. My campus tugs at my heart and makes me wonder if it's all just in my head. Maybe if I had a do-over I'd hate the place all over again. 

But I guess what I learnt from this is to always allow your heart to be vulnerable instead of being quick to judge moments we are going through and then hating it and then falling into the hate spiral that some of us know so well. 

And maybe some day I can fly away and know the joy of coming back to old places without regrets.

 Homecoming is always a sweet thing. :)