A goal.

Taking a cue from Sleeping Beauty, i've gone and pricked my finger on the forbidden needle and miraculously put my life to sleep for an entire week. In other words, i've come down with a long overdue case of stomach flu, which i shall spare my non existent readers from the details of.

What i have realised is that when you take a week off from your life, you get to contemplate. Not necessarily out of free will, of course, but something about the air in February and the smell makes you want to think about what little you understand of life and search for some semblance of clarity, while in my case, rushing to the loo every hour or so. But i digress.

See, i'd rather not build my non existent reader's hopes up too much because i haven't gone very far with clarity. However, i did have a wonderful time looking out of my window and out into my favorite street from back home that i suddenly realised, i haven't seen much of in the past year. And i suddenly began to feel excited and happy, would you believe it, despite the antibiotics? I even got my old scruffy diary out and wrote a few sentimental page or two about Spring. And then doodled, but i digress again.

There is actually no point to this blogpost but i realised that since it is my blog, i'm allowed to be as pointless as i possibly can here since being pointless in real life is frowned upon.

BUT.

I do want to set myself some realistic goals for this year and stick to it. Like a project - like in the film Julie and Julia or one of those facebook photo challenge. Only, more fulfilling.
I want to write about this year. Not like i write in the diary, all sap and sensitivity. But really write, like a pro or a semi pro or at east somebody with perspective. Unbiased perspective, wit and humor. Is that very hard to do? Sure, one needs to practice, but 365 days is enough practice. And i shall do it on this very blog.
No one will suffer because no one reads this blog, and i shall be safe behind anonymity.
However, i WILL have to set some ground rules for this project. AND give it a fancy name?

Rule number 1: No self obsessed analysis or sentimentality.
Rule number 2: Only HONEST, humorous unbiased representation of the day/misc stuff.
Rule number 3: No cheating and therefore posting something EVERYDAY, two lines or two hundred.
Rule number 4: No relapsing into old habit of relationship oriented feisty-ness ONLY.

And just to keep old fashioned symmetry,

Rule number 5: Expecting absolutely NO ONE to read or appreciate what is posted here, today and henceforth.

Because i am tired sick of words sometimes.

Wish you good meet.

The first time i saw you,i was 8,i think. We met at some book fair,fleetingly. I got a whiff of your smell for the first time. I remember bits of that day. A flash of white and khaki,a green patch over the bridge,some painted railings.
I didn't know why but you came over for visits to my place,always the bearer of chocolates. I didn't tell anyone but i secretly always looked forward to your visits,for fresh supply of Cadbury Temptations,for some hours of the day when my kiddishness was glorified and my splotched frocks,not frowned upon.
I recall my first burst of temper at you. You had been saying something about being my father's daughter and i told you that you wouldn't know. You are not family. You couldn't possibly know. I remember hating you for not being angry back. For smiling at me. I hated you for never being mad at me,for never telling me mean things too.
You used to argue with me. About traditions,mothers,rules.
You used to wear nothing but panjabi. I laughed at you at age 10. I laughed at how proud you were of your Indianness. I thought you were old.
I used to see you at our new flat. You chose the furniture,the pink table that you thought i'd like. You never listened to anybody. You fought with the construction people. You made them re do the kitchen. You chose the paint. You chose the curtains. You chose our home too.
Remember that time you made me wear mum's saree and took me out on Saraswati puja? We took a picture together. We had juice. I wanted ice cream but you said no. You said fruits were best.

You framed that picture for me. You wrote behind it. "Step by step to 12",it said.

You used to ask me about him,when mom used to make you tea in the kitchen. You knew. You had guessed. You didn't judge.
I christened you 'bindi kaku'. No,you never had a sense of fashion.
You resolved my fights. The ones that went on outside,and the ones that happened in. You took me out on days when home became unbearable. You always smelled the same. A bit of dhoop,a little powder, and something else i never could put a finger on. Your hands had veins that showed. I liked to trace them with mine.
As i began to grow up,you needed me more than i did you. You brought me bhutta back from your first trip to the hospital,remember? Secretly,so she wouldn't know. And that piece of red cloth you gave me? I've kept that. I always will.
We never quite stopped fighting. I waged war against you when we discussed politics and college. You didn't want me to go here.
I hated you for judging the university. I hated you for telling me what you hoped i'd do with my life. I hated how your ambitions for me were far greater than mine were for myself.
I also loved you for it.
I loved how you gave me a corsage on the day of my farewell. And how you always treated me like a grownup. You always asked me for my opinions. You came to me for answers as i came to you.

Our relationship spanned 10years. Your smell was in my home for 10 years.
The last time i saw you,you asked me if you'd be able to visit me in January. You were holding my hand. I remember tracing my fingers on your veins that hadn't changed much. It was habit,i now realise. We always sat like that.
I had promised you,you would. I told you i'll see you in January.

You didn't look at me when i left. You sat there with your head buried in the papers. You wouldn't look up. Mum wondered at that.
But i knew. And i hope you know,i did not mind.
Wish you good meet,you said.

Yes. Good meet.
Now,and always.

That which must not be named.

Yes,yes,i'm well aware that i do not rant about anything other than relationships,but that's only because i have a lot to say on the subject. Or the lack of it thereof. Besides,aren't 70% of life's problems relationship oriented? There,i'm doing my non-existent readers a favor.

See,i haven't had a post up here in a long time because i've been keeping busy butchering a perfectly happy(well,almost) relationship and going on a guilt trip that has lasted far too long. No more,i say.
So i'm back trying to figure out why people would want to willingly get into something that they'll want to get out of after a certain period of time anyway.
Also,what exactly are they getting into? A relationship,i mean. I have a personal belief that the term is jinxed,so i no longer call it that. It serves the dual purpose of lessening the corny quotient. So this thing that two people have (for simplicity's sake,lets not get into a debate over friendship/family etc being relationships as well yada yada and let's just take a boy and a girl because i am young and like 99% of young people who do not have to worry about grave matters of global concern,have trouble with the opposite sex and do not remotely pretend to understand anything more profound than buttered toast) - a 'relationship' - what exactly is it?
For starters,is there a rulebook that one needs to know about and follow? If a boy and a girl mutually like each other and enjoy each others company and have fantastic,off the charts amazing conversations ranging from the usefulness of corduroy pants (life saver) to the origin of defense mechanisms,is it absolutely necessary that they act a certain way or conform to certain set rules that decide who should be loved,how and how much? (Fine,so i've been reading Roy)
Is it the sense of pseudo security that comes out of declaring to the world,or to yourself,that you are 'in a relationship' that keeps a person from questioning it when things start to slip? Does it help in the process of denial or is a public proclamation of commitment simply a step closer to tangibility? Does the tag guarantee absolute loyalty from the two people concerned?

Does it then,also guarantee love?

Here's to unsuspecting 'in love' people.

It won't last. Take it from me,you are kidding yourself.

No,this is no crazy woman ranting from her weird smelling,cat infested house. It's true. Relationships have an expiry date. For most,its 6 months after which,like your pasta sauce,it starts to rot. While for other incurable romantics,it could go on up to 2 years or even more (sigh). But then it will inevitably,awfully,slap-you-in-the-face way,go kaput.

And that's the day you'll have no ice cream in the freezer.

And while it'll seem like the end of the world..what with blotchy eyes,a splitting headache,innumerable rhetorical "why me??" and sad music that plays in your head alone..it's probably not.

Face it. Stale pasta sauce had to go.

The problem with relationships is that,they are an exhaustible resource. So you hit your high,and everything around you is rainbowy and you are walking on clouds,making a complete fool of yourself without a care in the world (flashes of facebook fun is not pretty in hindsight,huh?). And even as you try to believe it will last this time - it has to,considering how absolutely perfect it is - you know you are no superman. Or the owner of invisible cartoon rockets that come out of your kick ass leather boots.
So you fall from your clouds. Hard. On your butt with no 'strong arms' to catch you,and you are back where you started: Single,slightly sick,and if you are a fool like me,friendless. 

And the worst part is,a year later,you are willing to do it again. You are willing to lick your old wounds,pack away some memories and start again - with a new 'the one',a new set of hopes..if only to feel the clouds underneath your feet one more time. Because the thrill of a first date,a first kiss,a first everything is too amazing to pass up on,despite the consequences. 

And the cure to the fall,you ask?

Simply the promise of something even better! :)

RomComs

Up until now,it was my belief that a Romantic Comedy is fully equipped to solve all of life's problems. Let's face it. What's not to love about pretty people,flattering lighting,a tried and tested plot and a happily ever after?
Call it an overdose or simply post breakup psychobabble,but i've recently noticed that ye olde RomCom has lost a little bit of its charm for me. Yes people,the bubble has officially burst.
For example,have you noticed how,if you watch an extremely emotional,he-is-about-to-propose scene on mute,its less likely to draw sighs of lovestruck satisfaction from you? And also,who looks that perfect waking up at 3 am to answer the door? Even as the protagonist agonizes over the chaos that is her night face,you can't help but ask yourself, is that pink lipstick on her? And mascara? And don't even get me started on the just-got-out-of-bed-messy hair look. For one,IT AIN'T MESSY SISTA',so cut the whining.

Now for the female protagonist stereotype. There are quite a few:

1.) The naive young girl who has recently got her heart broken but is in reality quite the quirky,clumsy and charming one. Don't tell her though,for we have a guy coming in before intermission to do just that.

2.) The badass. This one is totally hardcore. She hums indie songs,wears a lot of kohl,makes fun of guys just like that and gives 'love' the finger. She is independent and needs NO ONE,as we are reminded over and over again through her single gal awesomeness. Oh,and she uses sarcasm as a defense machanism cuz behind that hard exterior,lies a simple,bruised soul just waiting to be loved and protected by someone who 'understands' her.

3.) The independent,professional woman. This is the modern twist on the average nerd,people. In a bid to cash in on the craze that is gender equality, the female protagonist is dressed up in high heels,butt hugging skirts,a sleek do and black rimmed glasses. No,this isn't your librarian porno fantasy playing out. Its the 21st century,self sufficient,fast talking,control freak aka a no nonsense,no time for love,very much in control,super smart boss person. She rocks the office front but goes home to her cat in a lonely apartment. This of course,before she meets 'the one' who teaches her to 'live a little'. And she promptly changes from anal to all fun.

4.) The spoilt brat. She is mostly seen in pink,at parties and in bare minimum. She goes 'wooooo' at the drop of a hat. Make that a g-string. She has a buffed up boyfriend who could be a Ken lookalike..but wait! She still wants more! From life,silly. So oneday,she packs her Louis Vuittons and sets out. Several dumb blonde moments later,she meets a nerdy dude who totally gets her,despite her,erm,lack of a cerebellum,and he decides to intellectualise her and she realises she is worth SO much more than daddy's mansion. So she dumps the stud of a bf,dumps the sidekick and drives away to a rosy future,hand in hand with nerd boy.

And in all four cases..she lives Happily Ever After! :)

Perfection really,if only this hadn't been reality land. And while RomComs have the key to love for all girl types (as listed above),what happens to the girl who is all of the above?
Because,we aren't just one person. The truth is,there is a bit of a rebel,a bit of a nerd,a bit of substance and a whole lot of dumb blonde in all of us.

So then,who is the perfect guy for an imperfect girl?

Don't look at me.
What do i know? :|

Facebook.

There really never will be anything quite as awesome as the first "pssst! update undie color to spread breast cancer awareness and don't tell the boys" plan,so pathetic posers who've been spamming my inbox,Give Up!

Also,
damnit FF,you have me hooked.
Luff your blog 11/10.