So I have this really bad habit. Whenever things are going smoothly in my life, instead of accepting it gracefully, I start questioning it. “Why is everything going so smoothly? Why are things fine? Shouldn’t something have gone wrong by now?” No, I’m not a pessimist. I’ve just been conditioned by experience. I’ve learnt the hard way that after showering me with truckloads of happiness, the dude up there will most likely dump an equal number of truckloads of crap on me. So it’s not pessimism or cynicism. Just caution.
As a result, I have ended up getting suspicious about even the slightest bit of goodness that comes my way. I went through a difficult break-up a few months back. Difficult is actually an understatement. I managed to come out of it emotionally battered, but alive (and miraculously, without taking to the bottle), mainly because of my family and friends. That’s why I was off the radar for a while back then. I just didn’t have the will to write. I did try writing, but whatever I wrote was too depressing even for me to read. I didn’t want to spread the depression on my blog as well. Instead, I wrote in my diary, cried non-stop for a few weeks, vented out to my friends, and managed to survive.
And then I decided to stop crying and torturing myself. Because I knew that I had given my best to the relationship. I had given it my two hundred percent, and I was ready to give it more. I was in love, after all. I had told my folks about it, they had accepted it. They weren’t ecstatic about it, but had accepted it for my happiness (I have the best family in the world, I tell you). And when it was his turn to convince his family, he couldn’t do it. He tried, I know he did. But I could see that he was tired of fighting. So I decided to end his misery as well as mine, and called it off. I think he was waiting for me to do the same…
So yes, that ended. From thinking “I cannot live without him”, I have reached a point where I actually am living without him. And I think I’m doing a pretty darn good job at it. I saw him a few weeks back, at a function. And I was perfectly fine. I guess, to quote Dumbledore, everything happens ‘for the greater good’.
But yes, I have to admit, this break-up has hardened me, more than the previous one did. I don’t trust anything or anyone on face-value anymore. And I’ve realized something very important- It’s not enough if it just ‘feels’ right. It has to go right too, all the way till the end.
And why am I telling you all this now, you wonder? Because even without knowing me personally, you guys have been a source of constant support. I know that if I had written about this break-up at the time it happened, I would’ve got a flood of comments and emails telling me to hang in there, and that everything will be fine. But I went into a shell. I just didn’t want to talk about it.
Now, something good seems to be coming my way. Like a nice warm cup of coffee on a rainy day, a semblance of order and happiness seems to be brewing its way into my life. But old habits die hard, right? As always, I’m finding it hard to accept it. Because everything seems to be running smoothly, a bit too smoothly. It's overwhelming.
Why the hell is it so hard for me to accept that, yes, maybe I do deserve to be happy, after all?
I need blessings and good wishes of each and every one of you. And I also need you to tell me to stop over-thinking, and just accept things happily. Can you do that much for me?
P.S.1:- If all goes well, you guys will be the first to hear about it.
P.S.2:- Aditi and PeeVee, I cannot thank you guys enough for being there for me during that time. You have no idea how much that helped. I hope I can make it up in some way at some time.
June 7, 2012
May 31, 2012
Quit being a chimney
He was 14 when he first started. He had seen his elder brother and friends do it, and it looked cool. And he wanted to be cool as well. He was a gawky, unattractive teenager. This was the best way to look cool and grab people’s attention, especially girls.
At 14, he looked cool.
At 16, he looked cool.
At 20, he looked cool.
At 22, he looked 30.
At 25, his lips looked like charcoal.
At 30, he looked ill.
At 40, he looked skeletal.
At 45, his lungs looked like tar.
At 50, his corpse didn’t look all that cool.
On World No Tobacco Day, I request all of you who smoke to try and quit smoking. It’s not going to do you any good in the long run. I know what all you smokers say, that it’s hard to quit, we’ve tried, it's not as easy as you think, etc. Well, I believe, if you want something badly enough, you will eventually get it. You just have to try real hard.
Don’t punish your lungs. They don’t deserve it.
Just try, won’t you? Believe me, no girl wants to kiss a mouth full of smoke.
And the girls who smoke, you don’t look any cooler or intellectual. No guy will want to kiss a mouth that looks, and feels, like cardboard. And don't punish your child even before it's born.
And the creative types who think that you can’t get your creative juices flowing without a cigarette, well, then you’re just underestimating your own creativity.
And all those who think that it’s none of my business to say all this, maybe you’re right. It’s none of my business. But since you’re not making it your business, I thought I should make it mine.
At 14, he looked cool.
At 16, he looked cool.
At 20, he looked cool.
At 22, he looked 30.
At 25, his lips looked like charcoal.
At 30, he looked ill.
At 40, he looked skeletal.
At 45, his lungs looked like tar.
At 50, his corpse didn’t look all that cool.
On World No Tobacco Day, I request all of you who smoke to try and quit smoking. It’s not going to do you any good in the long run. I know what all you smokers say, that it’s hard to quit, we’ve tried, it's not as easy as you think, etc. Well, I believe, if you want something badly enough, you will eventually get it. You just have to try real hard.
Don’t punish your lungs. They don’t deserve it.
Just try, won’t you? Believe me, no girl wants to kiss a mouth full of smoke.
And the girls who smoke, you don’t look any cooler or intellectual. No guy will want to kiss a mouth that looks, and feels, like cardboard. And don't punish your child even before it's born.
And the creative types who think that you can’t get your creative juices flowing without a cigarette, well, then you’re just underestimating your own creativity.
And all those who think that it’s none of my business to say all this, maybe you’re right. It’s none of my business. But since you’re not making it your business, I thought I should make it mine.
May 22, 2012
Orgasm first, foreplay later.
Am I the only one in this world who reads the last few pages of a book first?
Seriously. Why is this so hard for people to digest?
After reading the foreword, acknowledgement, and the first page of a new book, I flip to the last few pages and read the ending. Then I come back to the front again.
Is that really so weird?
Why do I do that?
Because it gives me immense peace of mind in knowing how the book ends, and once I know that, I can happily read the rest of the book. If it’s a sad ending, I’ll be prepared for it. If it’s a happy ending, I’ll be super-duper excited about it.
It’s as simple as that, really! There is nothing to break your head over it! And I really don’t think it’s weird. I think I caught that habit when Maari and I used to read Nancy Drew novels. The last few pages of the novels always used to have a making-out scene. So we used excitedly skip to the end and read those pages. :) I guess the habit just stuck on after that. Every single book that I read, I read the last few pages first, whatever be the genre.
Even with Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, I read the end first, found out who the prince is and who killed Dumbledore, and then started from the beginning. And the book was just as fascinating for me as it would have been for someone who didn’t know the surprise ending.
A line from When Harry Met Sally comes to my mind when people give me incredulous reactions at this habit of mine. Harry tells Sally, “I read the ending of a book first, so that even if I die without finishing the book, I’ll at least know how it ended”. Or something along these lines.
One of my friends, to whom I happened to mention this during our conversation, described it as similar to “wanting to have an orgasm before the foreplay”. Err.. I don’t think it’s like that AT ALL. :/
Do you guys have any habit like this that seems normal to you, but everyone else considers you cuckoo for it?
P.S:- For all those who eagerly opened the post after seeing the title, so sorry to disappoint you. What can I say, I'm a born tease. :p
Seriously. Why is this so hard for people to digest?
After reading the foreword, acknowledgement, and the first page of a new book, I flip to the last few pages and read the ending. Then I come back to the front again.
Is that really so weird?
Why do I do that?
Because it gives me immense peace of mind in knowing how the book ends, and once I know that, I can happily read the rest of the book. If it’s a sad ending, I’ll be prepared for it. If it’s a happy ending, I’ll be super-duper excited about it.
It’s as simple as that, really! There is nothing to break your head over it! And I really don’t think it’s weird. I think I caught that habit when Maari and I used to read Nancy Drew novels. The last few pages of the novels always used to have a making-out scene. So we used excitedly skip to the end and read those pages. :) I guess the habit just stuck on after that. Every single book that I read, I read the last few pages first, whatever be the genre.
Even with Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, I read the end first, found out who the prince is and who killed Dumbledore, and then started from the beginning. And the book was just as fascinating for me as it would have been for someone who didn’t know the surprise ending.
A line from When Harry Met Sally comes to my mind when people give me incredulous reactions at this habit of mine. Harry tells Sally, “I read the ending of a book first, so that even if I die without finishing the book, I’ll at least know how it ended”. Or something along these lines.
One of my friends, to whom I happened to mention this during our conversation, described it as similar to “wanting to have an orgasm before the foreplay”. Err.. I don’t think it’s like that AT ALL. :/
Do you guys have any habit like this that seems normal to you, but everyone else considers you cuckoo for it?
P.S:- For all those who eagerly opened the post after seeing the title, so sorry to disappoint you. What can I say, I'm a born tease. :p
May 17, 2012
From Amsi, with love
Be it the time you hit your face on the Luna while diving valiantly to take that catch when we were playing cricket, and you broke a tooth…
Be it the time you burnt your fingers during a flowerpot mishap that Diwali…
Be it all the times we played cricket inside our tiny little 2BHK flat, with a diary for a bat and the front door as the wickets…
Be it the times you took all the brunt of whatever mischief I had done, just because you were the older one…
Be it those countless times when we constantly fought over the phone, or that one single remaining hug-pillow, the twin of which we had hugged away to its ruin…
Be it the n number of movies to which you have let me tag along with you and your friends…
Be it letting me wear your clothes, even though they never fit me properly…
Be it the times we’ve fought over who will get to read the latest issue of Tinkle first, setting our own rule of ‘whoever sees it first gets to read it first’…
Be it the times when I finished off three-fourth of a bottle of Hajmola or a plate of grapes before you even noticed, and then you proceeded to count out the remaining ones and shared it equally…
Be it the way you always put an extra 1000 bucks in my account than what I had asked for…
Be it the fact that all the three phones that I’ve owned till now were sponsored by you, not to mention half my wardrobe…
Be it the way you call me Amsi…
Be it the way you yell at me for doing too much drama…
For all that and more…
I love you more than these mere words can ever express.
You are the best sister anyone could have ever asked for, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world. Well, maybe for an iPhone. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, ok?
Happy 30th to the strongest and most delightful person I know (besides me, of course).
Happy b’day, my dear chech.
Be it the time you burnt your fingers during a flowerpot mishap that Diwali…
Be it all the times we played cricket inside our tiny little 2BHK flat, with a diary for a bat and the front door as the wickets…
Be it the times you took all the brunt of whatever mischief I had done, just because you were the older one…
Be it those countless times when we constantly fought over the phone, or that one single remaining hug-pillow, the twin of which we had hugged away to its ruin…
Be it the n number of movies to which you have let me tag along with you and your friends…
Be it letting me wear your clothes, even though they never fit me properly…
Be it the times we’ve fought over who will get to read the latest issue of Tinkle first, setting our own rule of ‘whoever sees it first gets to read it first’…
Be it the times when I finished off three-fourth of a bottle of Hajmola or a plate of grapes before you even noticed, and then you proceeded to count out the remaining ones and shared it equally…
Be it the way you always put an extra 1000 bucks in my account than what I had asked for…
Be it the fact that all the three phones that I’ve owned till now were sponsored by you, not to mention half my wardrobe…
Be it the way you call me Amsi…
Be it the way you yell at me for doing too much drama…
For all that and more…
I love you more than these mere words can ever express.
You are the best sister anyone could have ever asked for, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world. Well, maybe for an iPhone. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, ok?
Happy 30th to the strongest and most delightful person I know (besides me, of course).
Happy b’day, my dear chech.
May 7, 2012
Clicketty click (55 fiction)
Click.
There. She had finally had the courage to click on that button.
She had finally unfriended him from her Facebook list.
Now to work on removing him from her heart and her mind. If only there was a simple one-click button option available for that.
Unfortunately, there isn’t. That’ll take time. And some faith.
There. She had finally had the courage to click on that button.
She had finally unfriended him from her Facebook list.
Now to work on removing him from her heart and her mind. If only there was a simple one-click button option available for that.
Unfortunately, there isn’t. That’ll take time. And some faith.
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