Chit-Chat (2)

Conversations between us…

He: *after sending me a couple’s picture* My friend is getting married. 

Me: Everyone except us is getting married. Tell me something new.

He: Like what?

Me: Like tell me when someone is getting divorced.

He: Got no such gossip. Oh yeah, got one, I am not talking to my brother.

Me: That’s lame. 😏

He: Okay then, I am going to wash my clothes.

Me: OMG!!!! Now, that’s breaking news. How did this happen? What made you do so? 😱😱😱😱

He: *facepalm

Me: hehehe 😂😂😂

(Chit-Chat: A series where I record conversations between me and my guy. Read the first one here. )

The Almost Kiss-1 

The place was unusually quiet for a college reunion. Or may be, I wasn’t listening. My mind was overflowing with the thoughts of the times I spent with these people- friends, acquaintance, foes all gathered under this roof, seven years after graduation. I wondered why I was there. 

Did I really want to see him after all these years? While my brain wanted me to storm out of that place on the first chance I could get, my heart wanted me to stay for just a little bit more. Just enough to see him once. Jordan, my friend, my secret keeper, the guy who fell in love with every girl he laid his eyes on. The one with all kinds of dating stories- funny, disastrous, steamy. He was my love guru, my go to person for every sexual query, my only contact on speed dial. We made fun of everything under the sun, the lonesome professors tired of their life, the girls mad enough to like him back, the guys I went to dates with. We were a team who judged every person we had to deal with. We were so different, yet when we talked, time passed in the blink of an eye. 

He was the charming guy, girls fell in love with. Not me, though. I was aware of his tactics, his moves to win over everyone. I wasn’t foolish enough to fall for his charm. Or was I? 

Atleast, not until the night on the porch…
                                 ***

To be continued…

Image source.

‘Cause you are a sky full of Stars

One of the perks of living in a small town, especially near the hills is that you get to see a sky full of stars. You can go to your rooftop, look up and witness a sea of twinkling lights all over the sky. The rationalist in me likes to remind me that they are nothing but large astronomical bodies made up of hot burning gases but the romantic me refuses to listen and dreams about spending a night under the stars with someone I love.

The night sky makes me think of God, of ghosts, of how we evolved, how we came into this world and how someday we would cease to exist. 

When I told my four year old nephew that Oreo has died, he asked me whether he has turned into a star. Somehow a simple lie that we tell kids made me feel better. The idea of lost loved ones watching over us from above, however absurd it is, soothes my soul. 

As I watch the moon come up, outside my window I feel lucky just to be alive, to be with people I love, to know that as of today I don’t have to locate too many stars in the sky. Yes, Oreo could be there somewhere but for now, I have all my loved ones with me, right under this sky. 

Let the sky just be romantic for now. Let the stars shine for us. 

Can you see stars outside your window? Do they remind you of someone you love or someone you loved and lost? 

Just an old picture of the moon I took years ago. Don’t have a camera good enough to capture stars. Someday, may be.

Little Things

Do you remember the first time your father bought you a chocolate or a toy or anything you liked? Do you remember the times, when the little you waited for your father to come back from office to shower you with love? 

I don’t. 

As much as I think about my childhood, I can’t come up with a single happy memory with my father. He was never there. He was this non existential person who sponsored our studies, food and other stuff one requires to survive. I used to think that’s what fathers do. It was normal to me.  I remember I was surprised to see a lot of girls around me idolizing their dads. I couldn’t understand the concept. 

Well, I grew up and made peace with having a dysfunctional family. Honestly, I didn’t even miss all the fatherly love. I had many people around me who loved me and showered me with all the things I needed.

But then 4 years ago, when I was 22 , staying at home & preparing for some exam, my father came back from one of his evening walks and gave me a chocolate. He didn’t say anything, just threw a chocolate in my direction. I don’t think he realised that it was the first time he actually got something for me. 

But I did. I looked at the chocolate and I cried. Not heavy breathing, thumping my chest crying, just a tear rolling down my cheek crying. 

That chocolate meant something else to me. I don’t think a chocolate would have made a kid as happy as a twenty something girl that day. I don’t even know if I should call that happiness. It was just a little thing, yet it wasn’t. It was an unusual thing and I don’t know how to express it in words. Sometimes you just feel some emotions you can’t define. It was just that.

Now that I am at home again, every other evening my father gets me these little things- puffs, chips, kurkure. He has a ten rupee budget for every other evening. Today he bought me these soya puffs with chinese flavour and I made a face as I didn’t like that flavour. He then asked me which ones did I like. I told him to get me the pink packets. He went back to the shop and came back with red ones. I took pity of my poor, old father and acted like I loved the red tomato flavour(which honestly are even worse than the earlier chinese ones). I am still trying to figure out a way to make him understand the difference between red and pink. 
Sometimes, little things like these help me to relive my childhood- this one where my father gets me chocolates. May be, the universe does compensate us for everything. It might be a little late but everyone gets what s/he deserves. 

To each his due. 

Imperfect Love

We like to walk on lanes,

that are less travelled by,

And roam in unseen,

unheard places.

We like cooking meals together,

I cut onions, and

he wipes my tears.

He leaves the dishes unwashed.

and I forgive him every morning.

We like watching movies,

and laugh at silly scenes together.

He with his crooked teeth,

Me with my scarred cheeks.

We built forts in our dirty room,

and lie in tangled sheets.

We fight for the tiniest of things,

and then make up in a jiffy.

In a world striving for perfection,

We have found an imperfect love.

imperfectlove

*****

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Five Years Later ( Loving Against The Odds)

It has been a long time since I wrote this post and to be honest I am a little astonished by the traffic this post still gets. This has been the most viewed and most commented post on my blog and may be the only reason I get any amount of hits on my blog. A lot of people search for inter-caste and inter-religion relationships and land up on my blog which makes me wonder how many couples in our country are suffering from the inter caste marriage syndrome (ICMS)! A few of them even mail me either to sympathize with me or to ask me for suggestions on their own relationships. And that my dear friends really scare me because five years later I am still with the same guy.

I wrote that post when I was 21, fresh out of college and in a long distance relationship with a guy for two years. I never really got to leave the guy because such an event never cropped up in my life. Neither my parents decided to marry me off, nor did they get to know of my relationship. My mom to be honest most definitely knows about our relationship but still tries to turn a blind eye to it. She has now met him and even told me that she liked him but I know that deep down she prays to Lord every day that we should just be friends. This is after she practically expects him to drop me to stations, help me when I am sick, accompany me anywhere I have to go alone and totally be my knight in shining armour. May be she’s still living in Satayuga and expects guys to be that friendly and expect nothing in return. (or maybe she is aware of a term called friend zone)

In fact, sans my sister my whole family has now met him and know that we are close. And the fact that they still try to brush us off as friends, that ladies and gentleman is a big problem, because that shows the blind trust they have put on me. I don’t hold grudges against them anymore though. I know where they come from and why they have certain thoughts and beliefs. They are the reason I am able enough to have an opinion of my own and to respect other’s opinion.

So the next question is why I am still hiding this relationship?

That is because I really don’t know if I even want to get married. Marriage fails to interest me. Yes, I do like all the fun and festivities associated with weddings, taking pictures and posting them on social media. I turn green on seeing people getting the opportunity to freely express their love, and would like to have children someday but I don’t know whether the concept of marriage is my cup of tea. There are too many expectations, too much home-bound politics and too many roles to play. This could be because I’ve had many bad experiences with married people or because I don’t see many people around me getting married for the right reasons.

So what is the point of making the relationship public and hurt everyone when I don’t know whether marriage is what I want. Let’s just keep everyone happy for now.

Of course, I can’t be sure that my views won’t change in the coming years. It is very much possible but right now at twenty six I find myself too young to get married. (But in a country where around 90% of females get married before the age of 25, I might be wrong.) Anyway, if the situation comes down to choosing someone between the two, I can honestly say that I want both. In five years I have come far from crying about giving up on my love on the internet to announcing my hatred for marriage, who knows what’s going to happen in the next five years.

For now, the goal is to make something of myself, stop being jealous, try to write more, and to learn Kannada and Bengali. Let me focus on the small things and let the bigger things fall into place.

(To the folks who have landed here to find a solution to their relationship woes, sorry to disappoint you but I am not a love guru. I am just a girl in my mid twenties who writes her own story here. I wish I could bring a change in the society and relieve you of your miseries but that my friend is what you’ll have to do yourself. If is it important enough you’ll find a reason, if not you ‘ll find an excuse)

***

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The Clueless Guy

There is this general perception that one can never understand a woman. I have no idea why is it so. We women are the most vocal species on this planet. We are more expressive as compared to men about the things we like or we don’t like. Added to that we keep on giving you hints about what things do we want as gifts on specific occasions. Remember when we told you how good that blue bag displayed outside that neighborhood shop looked, or how awesome was that watch with a round dial we showed you on Amazon. Yet you didn’t listen and bought a brown bag and a rectangular watch instead.
The problem, dear men, is not about understanding, it’s about listening. You must carefully listen to the words that come out of our mouth, every single one of them. A moment of disinterest might make you to miss the color of the sandals that would go around with a specific dress and you might end up having an argument.

So the other day, I asked my guy to get me something. Something very cheap like under Rs100. And I still have no idea why but he brought me color pencils! I was speechless. I mean he could have bought me a pen and that would have made some sense but why on earth did he give me color pencils! I never draw. I have never drawn anything since school got over nor did I ever express some sort of dream of drawing something in my life. But here we were having an argument over color pencils. He ended up being irritated as he never understands what I want from him and because I never like his gifts. To pacify him I thought of showing him my great artistic skills using his gift.

image

And I made this! Well when he asked me why I made him look like a psycho killer torturing a little girl, I told him not to insult my “art” and to find a deeper meaning in it. Haha. That was the end of our little argument.

I haven’t touched those colors again as I don’t want to torture the future generations with my artistic skills.
To all the guys who find it tough to understand a woman,  just listen to them. They do make sense especially when they want something from you.

And to all those people who celebrate Valentines day, have a happy weekend. May your life be filled with love and laughter.