The bumpy ride called marriage

You know how I’m getting married in December and all that jazz, right?

Ever since it all got finalized, I’ve had this niggling feeling at the back of my mind, whether everything will be fine or not. It is but natural, considering I’m a constant worrier. Would we get along well? Will we be able to co-exist peacefully?

I mean, we ARE quite different.

Me- loud : He- comparatively quiet.
Me- drama queen : He- level-headed.
Me- Starts dancing even in autos to Himesh Reshammiya songs (I’m NOT proud of it): He- has two left feet,
Me- follows Bollywood and actually READS Filmfare and doesn’t buy it just to look at the pictures : He- doesn’t watch movies at all that much.
Me- lazybones: He- quite the fitness freak.
Me- LOVES her weekends and staunchly believes in “There’s never enough time to do all the nothing you want": He: can’t sit still even on weekends.
Me- can’t stand others’ mess: he- is quite good at messing up the place.
Me- to whom people say “Oh god, stop laughing so loud! People are looking!”: He- should definitely laugh more often. He likes his brooding persona way too much.
Me- does things like calling up someone on their birthday ten times during the day and simply wishing them, quotes dialogues from Malayalam movies a bit too often, sings “Sutta na mila” along with the MC-BC lyrics loudly while riding pillion on someone’s bike, etc.: He- has his quirks but doesn’t display them so blatantly to the rest of the world.

I think I should end the list here before I freak myself out completely.

So yes, these small things have been at the back of my mind. I mean, I’m happy with him and all that, which is why I said yes in the first place, but you know… you know? Then I thought, “What’s the fun if two people are exactly of the same personality? They should complement each other, right?”

It’s with this khichdi in my head that I started reading Yashodhara Lal’s “Just married, Please Excuse”. And Ma’m, may I just say, Thank. You. So. Much.



Just Married… is the (true) story of Yashodhara and Vijay, two very different people who fall in love and get married. She’s a city girl from Delhi, he’s from small town Jaipur. She loves non-veg, he’s a Brahmin who eats only chicken nuggets and eggs. She’s quite the firebrand, he’s slightly less of a firebrand. They both have an opinion on every single thing, and more often than not, the opinions differ.

Yashodhara takes us on a trip through their marriage, right from where he proposes (not exactly the most romantic proposal) to where they’re struggling with being first-time parents. The book is filled with vignettes from their lives that are so funny, I was laughing uproariously through most of it. A first date watching ducks and fishing, the seemingly unending search for a bright-blue sofa that doesn't sweat and in the process, making life hell for the salespersons, likening Vijay in his wedding attire to a giant tube of Colgate toothpaste are some of the hilarous one. And the beauty of it is that it is all so real (or at least I’m assuming it is). The problems that they face are common ones that probably every married couple goes through. The characters are people you and I can relate to (Dear Yashodara, what I could relate to the most about you was your sarcasm).

It’s a very unpretentious book. There aren’t fancy-sounding words or long-winding sentences that'll stop making sense halfway through. The author doesn’t try to paint any rosy pictures about marriage. She tells it like it is, without giving any unnecessary gyaan. She just narrates their story, and leaves it to us to derive lessons from it.

And what’s the lesson that I’ve learnt? That it’s not impossible. You can be as different as chalk and cheese, but can still make the marriage work. All it takes is a LOT of effort and a few sessions with a psycho marriage counselor who’ll make you realize that marriage isn’t one of those things that can be repaired in ’12 steps’. It’s entirely up to the husband and the wife to make it work. If both of them want to hang on to each other come what may, then they’ll find a way to make it happen. It’s about accepting and embracing each other’s differences and loving them for it. Don’t let ego ruin the relationship, and be willing to make small little adjustments that’ll ultimately make things a whole lot better for both of you. Oh and love and all that jazz too (I won’t comment woo much about this one).

So what if Yashodhara didn’t give gyaan. I never said I won’t.

The book has a lot of heart. It is deliciously sarcastic, funny, witty, humorous, and any other synonym you can think of for the same. If you pass it off thinking it's just another run-of-the-mill Indian author trying to ply her IIM story or as a chicklit, then you're missing out on a truly good book. It’s one of those books that, when you finish reading it, wish there was more of. The book has made me hopeful that S & I will be just fine, as long as we both really want to make it work. Thank you for that, Mrs. Yashodhara Lal. You have earned yourself a fan.

Turning 26

I rang in my last birthday along with three very important people.

One of them is no longer a part of my life.

Another one is on a self-imposed indefinite sabbatical from me.

The third person, thankfully, is still in my life. I had almost lost her too, but better sense prevailed and we both hung on.

This last one year has been one of the most turbulent years of my life.

I thought I would be married by my 26th birthday, to the guy I was in love with. And I tried with every fibre of my being to make it happen. But God had other plans. God said “Let’s see how grown-up you are” and threw a bunch of googlies in my way. I don’t know how well I have dealt with them, but dealt with them, I have, for sure.

So here I am, on my 26th, with my Lily and Marshall. Still single, engaged to be married by this year-end. I don’t know whether I am happy or not. I still eye happiness with a little bit of suspicion. It’ll take time, but I’m working on it. But I think I’m content. At peace, if I may. My demons don’t bother me so much lately. They haven’t gone away completely, either. That’ll take time as well. I’m slowly trying to prepare myself for a whole new life phase.

This is my last birthday in Hyderabad. The city I've come to look upon as my own. The thought of leaving is killing me, but I have to go. This place has too many memories. I may never be able to move on in life if I continue to stay here. So more than preparing myself for marriage, I’ve been trying to prepare myself for leaving my Hyderabad. The withdrawal symptoms have started.

Turning 26, definitely hasn’t been easy.

But hey, I’m still alive. And that’s something to celebrate, isn't it? :)

Happy birthday, me.

ETA: I posted this after midnight on 12th. I don't know why the date is showing as 11th.

Book Review: Rainy Days by Samarth Prakash

“His writing style ranges from ardently melodramatic and vividly romantic to quietly philosophical”, is how Samarth Prakash, the author of Rainy Days has been described. When I read this, I had no clue just how melodramatic they were talking about.

Rainy Days (Published by Good Times Pvt. Ltd.), attempts to chronicle the lives and love of Raghav and Megha. They meet at a cricket match that gets rained out. She leaves abruptly, leaving our romantic (in his own eyes) hero holding a lonely umbrella (no double entendre there, I swear). So what does our hero do? He chases her, and finds out where she works, and then proceeds to wait for her below her building for many days till she finally makes an appearance.

*cough stalker creepo cough*

So he strikes up a conversation with her, and eventually tells her that he chased her to the building, and had been waiting for her to make an appearance. Now, if you had been in place of that girl, what would you have done? Walked away? Called the police and got a restraining order against him? At least punched him? Well, our dear heroine, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, gets flattered and continues having lunch with him. Come on, girl, the least you could’ve done was at least throw a glass of water in his face before continuing with the lunch!

I don’t really want to get into the rest of the story because then that would mean having to do a quick recap of the story in my mind, and believe me, I don’t want to do that. Suffice to say, she vanishes one fine day, leaving a letter promising to return after five years, and return she does, as a married woman (at this point, I actually said a “serves you right” to the hero, for being such a douchebag).

The problem with this book is not that it romantic or melodramatic. The problem is that it is TOO romantic and melodramatic. I mean, we all love some melodrama and romance, sure. But this dude took it to another level. The characters have been created in such a way that you don’t end up feeling any sort of emotion- pity, affection, happiness, pride- for any of them.

The author should consider rechristening himself as Somewhat Prakash. The word ‘somewhat’ has been used so many times in the book, I started playing a little game while reading the book- how soon will I come across the next ‘somewhat’. I don’t have anything against the word, believe me. But would you like it if a word has been repeated on an average of twice per page? Yes, per page.

The author absolutely loves drawing parallels. As a result, ‘much like’ is a phrase that comes up as often as ‘somewhat’. If Raghav sees sunlight, he’ll connect it in some way to something else. If he sees a butterfly, he’ll connect it with colours of life. Well, the second one is just my contribution, but you get the picture, right? Sample this: The colourful ink on the promising pages of love was wiped out from the book of my life, much like waves that destroy castles built on sand. Err.. what?? This is like Inception. Metaphor within a metaphor within a metaphor.

But if you thought this was bad, sample this. “Our hairs fluttered, almost synchronously, in the evening breeze that was beginning to turn cold. And somehow, in that synced movement of our hairs, the gap that had opened up between S and myself was closed. We were in sync once again, as best friends should always be.” Dude, seriously? You drew a parallel of friendship with the movement of hairs? HAIRS???

Why is the book called ‘Rainy Days’, you wonder? Because it was raining the day they first met, it was raining the day they parted, and it was raining pretty much every single day chronicled in the book. I think I have developed a slight aversion towards rain now. And the hero’s philosophical musings were so blah, that I skipped quite many paragraphs out of sheer disinterest.

And just when you thought the book is over, after Megha comes back and reveals her side of the story, the author brings in a twist. A twist that is so out of place, that it looks as though it was introduced just so that the book wouldn’t be reduced to a mere romance novel.

Grammatically, the book is ok. No major blunders. But the language is so so SO melodramatic, that it gets exhausting after a point. You’ll feel as though you’re walking through a desert in the hot sun, wearing shoes that are three sizes too big for you. Hey! I just drew a parallel! So the book had SOME effect on me after all.

And trust me, dear Samarth Prakash, no love is as blind as you suggest it is in the book. Love is a lot of things, I agree. And people in love do all sorts of crazy things, even I have. But I seriously doubt standing as a false witness to help your old flame who murdered her sister, get acquitted is one of them. This sort of love is not blind, it's just plain stupid. Oopsie. Did I just give away the suspense? Whatever.

I know I’ve been very mean with the review, but I can’t call a bad book good. Ok, maybe I shouldn’t call a bad book bad, either. So let me just say, read it at your own risk. This level of melodrama and romance is just not my cup of tea. But if you don't mind it, then go ahead and give it a shot. Good luck.

Sunshine dreams...

I dream of living by the beach, waking up to the music of waves every day; of having the option of walking far into the sea if I find living too tedious.

I dream of watching the full moon from the top of a mountain.

I dream of being able to wear size XS again.

I dream of seeing my name in published ink.

I dream of bungee-jumping at least one in my life.

I dream of going to the topmost floor of the tallest building in the world at least once before I die.

I dream of getting a tattoo on my lower back that I can flaunt when I wear a saree.

I dream of being with a man who doesn’t need to think twice about being with me.

I dream of being told ‘I love you’ in a way that, when he tells it, I’ll know there isn’t a bigger truth in the world.

I dream of being woken up with a smile and a hug.

I dream of a home of my own, that I can call my very own, and I’ll fill it up with lots of books. A home where music will play all the time, even if no one is consciously listening to it. A home where my kids will grow up drawing on the wall (only one single wall, dedicated to them. If they ruin all the walls, I'll make them only scrub it).

I dream of going on a mini-vacation, a break of sorts, once in three months- maybe not necessarily to a new place, but just any place, to get away from the monotony. I like routine, but monotony scares me.

I dream of being with a guy who'll understand my need to be left alone once in a while; someone who'll laugh at my bad jokes and eccentricities; someone who'll love me not INSPITE of those quirks, but FOR them.

I dream of being the reason behind at least one person's happiness and smile.

I dream of being in a relationship where our silences are just as comfortable as the conversations are effortless.

I dream of never ever getting stuck in a rut or becoming just another brick in the wall.

I'm one of those who, like John Lennon said, if ever asked "What do you want to be in life?" will simply answer "Happy".

There... am I aspiring for too much?

Boy meets girl and all that jazz.

Warning: This is going to be an insanely long post, so don't scroll to the end of the post, see the length of it, and then close it without reading it. I know you people do that. Pfft.



I have been receiving threatening emails and messages for some time now, asking me to come out with the pennukaanal story soon, or else…! So here is the pennukaanal story. :)

Rewind to a few months back. It was a Saturday. I was just about winding up the English grammar class that I used to teach part-time at a coaching institute. I was as bored as the kids were sleepy, because grammar has the power to put anyone to sleep. The kids were doing the worksheet while I took my phone out to check how soon I could flee the place and get home to my Saturday night with Old Monk (and my Lily and Marshall too, of course). Two missed calls. From Acha. I knew what he would have called for. To tell me about yet another alliance. There was a message from him too. I was right. He had forwarded some guy’s profile ID and told me to check it out. My irritation went up a few notches. Didn’t I say I’m not interested and don’t wanna get married now and that I need some time?! I was just not in a state to think about marriage or about another guy. You know why.

So anyways, I pushed the phone back into my bag. Class got over soon and I got into a bus. I thought I’ll return Acha’s call anyway. So I called him. He told me that this person (let’s call him S) had seen my profile on the matrimonial site and called Acha, and that he found my profile very interesting. That piqued my curiosity, because ‘interesting’ isn’t exactly the best word one would use to describe my profile. Most guys had run in the other direction after reading it. Acha told me that this chap spoke very well, and he told me to check out his profile. I logged on from my phone, because I had an hour-and-a-half-hour’s journey ahead of it, so might as well make use of the time, right?

And what do I find? A non-weirdly-named Mallu guy without a moosh who- wait for it- WRITES!!! And writes in proper English, using proper grammar, has all the punctuations and apostrophes in place, has the capital letters in place, AND puts space wherever necessary. After getting excited about the fact that he too is a Grammar Nazi, I went through the rest of his profile. He seemed interesting, had reading and interest in travel in common with me, and I liked his family from the way he had described them.

So I call up Acha and say “Acha, it’s an interesting profile. His grammar and all is fine.”

:/

Acha went silent for a minute. And then he burst out laughing. Then I asked him what should be done next. Acha asked me if I wanted to speak to S. I told him to get me his email ID, so that I could mail him. A few minutes later, I get a message from an unknown number. It was S. Acha had given him my number. He just dropped in a hi, and wanted to know if we could speak. I replied saying that I was out, and if I could speak later.

But wait, here’s the clincher. He texts exactly like I do! In proper English, not SMS language, with capital letters and full spellings of words. This guy seemed to be like my Grammar Nazi twin.

So I got home, and hurriedly opened his profile and showed it to U and A (the Lily and the Marshall- or rather, first letters of their real names. They’re the ones I live with). Once I got their go-ahead (yes, I do that), I spoke to him. We spoke for more than an hour that day, the longest I’ve spoken on the phone to anyone in ages. I hate talking over the phone, and the max I can do is 20-25 minutes. My ears start to pain/I get bored after that. We exchanged basic info- education, job, where-when-what of it, families, etc. We also opened and shut the ex-files. I told him very honestly that I had just gone through a break-up a few months back, and he very bluntly asked me if this was a rebound thing. I assured him that I’m not the kind of person who’ll mess up someone else’s life to deal with my own pain. I was over that, which is why I had agreed to speak to him in the first place.

We then spoke every day for the next few days. All this while, our families were on tenterhooks, wanting to know how it is going. Acha went and got the horoscopes checked, meanwhile, and turned out that they matched. S’s mom called me up and spoke to me, and I loved her. She speaks nineteen-to-the-dozen, and guess what? She’s an English teacher. I know, right?!

Then we decided that we have to meet before we take a final call on anything, because speaking on the phone is a different deal altogether. So he came down to Hyderabad one fine Saturday. We spent the day together roaming around in malls, having coffee, and bearing the insane afternoon heat in Charminar. I kid you not. By the end of the day, we figured that we were able to spend a whole day with each other without getting bored or wanting to kill each other. And that itself is a big deal, because to be honest, I was quite nervous about this whole spend-a-day-together thing. I’ve gotten so used to shopping and roaming around alone that I was afraid I’ll get bored of him after a couple of hours. Yes, I’m quite capable of that. I can tolerate human company only for a limited period of time.

But I didn’t get bored of him. We had a good time together, he seemed like a decent chap, and had that one quality that every girl looks for in a guy- chivalry (guys, take notes. Trust me on this). He even got me cupcakes that survived the flight (You can awww at this one). He is older to me, which meant that he had the maturity that age brought along with it. And that was something I really needed at the moment. He was smart, intelligent, and could carry out a decent conversation.

So we realized, we didn’t really have any reasons to say no. Well, except for the fact that he had a cat and that he lived in a city that I had been conditioned to hate because of its legendary heat and auto-drivers. But I figured, I can’t have everything, right? I need to learn to make compromises. And I was willing to consider it not because I HAD to, but because I WANTED to.

Our families were like hyperactive kids that day, calling us umpteen times during the day to ask ‘how’s it going?’ Imagine this. We’re sitting at a café and my phone rings. Acha. I pick up, and he asks me “So how is it going? Do you like him?” What the hell am I supposed to say with him sitting right in from of me?! “Yes Acha, I louuuu him”?? So I politely told Acha to leave me alone and that I will give a detailed report at night. Even then, Amma and Chechi also called in between.

Anyway, he left that same evening. We gave a positive feedback to the folks back home. Positive in the sense, we told them that yes, we liked each other, but would like to speak for a while longer before we take the final call.

So we did that. We spoke for a few more days, weighing the pros and cons. The parents had left it to us kids to make a decision. And so we did. We decided to go ahead and torture each other for the rest of our lives. In my defense, he had already read my profile. So he knew exactly what he was getting into. He can’t complain later, right?

After that, the parents took over. My folks went over to his place to meet them. He had also come down for a couple of days, so my parents got to meet him too. They came back happy and content. I was very particular that the families should also get along well. So it came as a big relief.

And now I come to the actual pennukaanal story (didn’t I warn you that it’s gonna be a looong post). His family hadn’t met me yet, even though everything had pretty much been finalized and tentative dates also fixed. Their original plan was to come to TVM to see me when I went home in June, but due to my grandma’s unexpected demise, that plan got changed. Instead, they came down to Trichur to see me at my aunt’s house. Like I said, I was anything but shy and nervous. Aunty (my future MIL, that is) asked me “Are you nervous, beta?” And I shamelessly replied, “No Aunty, not really. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you all, so I’m more excited than nervous.” I didn’t do that customary serving-chai-with-downcast-eyes thing either. I was just myself. Since I had already spoken to aunty quite many times by then, i was very comfortable being around her. S was there too, and to be honest, it looked more like his pennukaanal than mine, because he seemed quite nervous :P (he’s so gonna kill me when he reads this). He doesn’t talk as much as I do. He takes time to open up.

So that, my lovelies, is the story of how your dear-damaged-Spiffy found her Grammar Nazi-in-shining-armour. Of how she is learning to be happy without holding back. Of how she decided to let go of her past and look forward to the future. Of how she found the guy who knows all about her hang-ups, but still ‘gets’ her. Of how she is gradually learning to accept that fact that maybe having a cat around the house may not be the worst thing in the world, when the consolation is that the guy is good. Of how she is willing to relocate to a city she doesn’t really like, but is ok with it because the guy is worth it *touchwood touchwood*. Does it sound like a fairy-tale? It’s not, trust me. It’s just the story of an ordinary girl who’s been through perfectly ordinary stuff that everyone goes through in life, and has hopefully finally found one of the cozy nooks of her happy place *fingers crossed. Toes too, for good measure*. Her story is not over yet. A brand new chapter is just starting. Only difference being, she has a co-author now.

She is still shit-scared about commitment and marriage and about ‘settling down’, but so is he, so they’ve decided to freak out about it together.

Wish them luck.