Him and Her

He was an alpha achiever. Smart. Good looking. Successful. All at the age of 27.

She was ambitious. Pretty. A smile that everyone raved about. With potential to be successful. And 24.

They made quite the couple – everyone said. At least everyone who knew they were dating.

He was admired and envied. And she was fun to talk to – always striking up conversations with strangers. They were both out to change the world. Together – it seemed.

She was sentimental. She loved taking care of him… Pandering to his whims… Celebrating his successes... Always ready to bend her stubbornness to make him smile. She wasn’t easy - Of course not.  She could be moody – at times like a dark grey cloud hovering over him. But still she tried. And it seemed he was happy. Didn’t he say so every day?

He was out to make her happy. He dropped her to work. Picked her up after work. He planned trips out of town with her. After all she loved traveling just as much as he did. He was attempting to be monogamous. She was appreciative of it. ‘I mean how many men can manage that in today’s times’, she told herself.

‘As long as he is honest’, she repeated in her head. ‘As long as he is honest…’

They were the golden couple. Her friends loved him. His friends were fond of her.

But then… why did he have this distant longing in his eyes? A longing for what… Friends? Or was he looking for companionship? Was she not proving to be a good companion? She rejoiced in his every success. And supported his every decision. They loved traveling and participated in each other’s interests.

So then... Why? Why could she not shake that feeling that this wasn’t enough for him? That somewhere he had come to believe that the right thing to do was to be by her but in reality he felt so far away.

She had decided not to snoop. She had sworn to herself that she will stop. But today she couldn’t. She had woken up with a horrible feeling. A feeling of confusion. A feeling she was not able to shake off.

He went for a shower. They were planning to go out into town. Grab a couple of beers. ‘It is a date’, he said and she was excited. They were so used to chilling together that dates weren’t really something they went for.

He went for a shower and she went for his phone.

Private messages.

**** she typed in the password. It seemed easy. Maybe he wanted her to be able to open it.

There it was.

At first she couldn’t sense anything wrong.

And then she felt it. She figured who she was.

That beautiful innocent girl. The one who would advise him not to drink so much.

‘Him: I miss you btw

Her: I miss you too.’

It felt like a weight had been lifted. She had finally found the answer.

 He was unhappy. Maybe not unhappy. But definitely not content. He wasn't looking for a friend. He was looking for a companion.

She realized then that she had dragged him too far. And without knowing she had cut him off from finding that companion. Who was she to ask him to pick her. Who was she to make him feel like he had wronged her. How had she managed to manipulate him like that. They had never really had a real relationship. The Girl had always been around. The Girl was equally entitled to his affections. And she had dragged him away.

‘How far can we go to keep this up while you lose out on finding the real ‘one’ for you?’, she wondered.

She should have left of course. Let him lose. But she couldn't do it today. She needed him to accept his desire to find a companion, before she left. So that he didn't repeat the cycle again. The cycle of living in denial.

He needed saving. She just needed his love for a little longer.

They went and drank those beers.

And suddenly there were two people with distant dark eyes.

Reasons

Too liberal.
Too sweet.
Too distant.
Too sweet.
Not crazy enough.
Crazy.
Too real.
Not mysterious enough.
Kid.
Sorry...
Too distant.
Too close.
Not you.
.
..
...
..
.
Boring.

The Dirty Word

There is a dirty word.
A word that is more taboo than most words really.
A word, when you discover, most automatically pushes you into denial.
We say - aaah it is the affliction of the mighty - it can't possibly be true for me.
I mean I am young and finding my feet and part of the growing middle class in urban India right?
This dirty word is only for the rich and famous. Maybe the rich and famous in the America or maybe the emotional romanticised Europe.
Not us. Not you. Not me.
We don't know this word. If we bump into it, we ignore it.
We brush it behind beautiful poetry and cryptic syllables.

Depression is a dirty word.

I think most urban young people of my generation are still dealing with breaking out of conservative moral codes to actually worry about depression. There is no time you see.
Women hide behind - 'oh I must be pmsing'. While men call it the stress of the job.
But is it really just that?

Also there is this imagery that the concept of depression carries in our heads. Psychiatrists. Pills. Crazy people. How I wish it were that simple and easy to figure out?
Sadly it isn't.
It is complex and has degrees.

I have ignored my moods and bouts of sadness for years. Lately I decided to change my plan.
I face it. I tell Ree. I inform. I write about it. I analyse it till Depression itself gets tired.
I look it in the eye and say that to a certain degree feeling like this is ok. I do that so I know that I need to reach out if it gets to a degree beyond normal.

I will not run from you. I will embrace you. Maybe then we'll find a way to make you clean again.

Stranded

I chuckle everytime I see the Captcha (I may have misspelled this) ask me to prove I am not a robot.

I guess I am not one. I breathe. I eat. I sleep. I drink. I throw up. I laugh. I cry.

But lately I feel like one. I have nothing to do. I don't have a job yet. No one wants a 'just two years work ex' planner. No one wants to hire the young girl. So everyday I walk around doing the expected things. I apply to more places. Meet more people. Call home and convince them I am ok. I smile. I make conversation.
I keep repeating - I am ok. I am great.

I have realised that writing about failures in Love is so much easier. You always know that Love may be a losing game and is not in your control.

But writing about personal setbacks in your life plan is so much more difficult. I had a plan. Even though I know plans sometimes do not work out but I still had one. Suddenly that plan has gotten erased and I feel stranded. In a city with so many people I feel alone. Not because there is lack of support but because I never thought I would ever reach a point where I would need so much support. So I run from meeting my friends as I don't want to answer the questions. I avoid meeting E if I have a terrible day because I know I will rub it off on him.

And I refuse to go home, to Delhi, before I have something because the thought of walking into that city without a job here is a thought too difficult to bear.

Sometimes my roommate and I talk about our current situation. She says that one day we will look back at all this and savour the fact that we had to struggle to get what we want. I want to believe her. My other alternative is to believe that I failed and that maybe I chose the wrong path. THAT alternative would leave me no where.

Stranded on my personal misery island.

Thud

Hitting rock bottom isn't instant.
It is painfully slow.
You think you are there... only to realise you are still falling.
Much like falling in love I suppose.

Love is a free fall. And sometimes you look up and see that you are the only one experiencing it...

ashes

the world is not my enemy.
you are not my enemy.
i am my own worst enemy.
also my critic.

i will rise.
from the ashes if required.

The next step...

I am not a sentimental person. I am about certain things but not all.

I have always taken my dreams very seriously. I compartmentalize them. Some are not in my control.. I cannot guide them or ensure their fulfillment.
But some dreams I know are guided NOT by destiny but solely by my mental capabilities and physical efforts. I am not sentimental about them.

When I first joined Advertising I did not know what I was doing there. And two years later I still did not think that I could visualise myself in this industry ten years later. Primarily because I do not think that far ahead ever when it comes to my career. I know my dreams, with respect to my career, will keep evolving. I will always want to branch out... Try something new.. Do something more... Push myself till I am too exhausted to move further. Because that is what I discovered about my personality when I first joined Advertising.

My first job at LB was what an ideal job should be like (according to me) where they compel you to jump into the deepest waters without you really knowing if you will swim or drown. That is how I learned how far I could go to get things done. I discovered this crazy desire to do great work. Not good. Not passable. But great work. I needed to excel. I needed to learn faster than expected. Actually my work demanded that I do so. I flourished. There were times when it got too much. This desire in me to keep pushing myself one step further. There were many times when I would stand alone in the loo and cry just because I needed to let off a little steam.

But in the two years that I spent there I realized that I could achieve. I did have potential. Most importantly I knew how to learn.

I quit LB last year in June because I wanted to get a PG diploma and I wanted to move to Bombay. Over the past 11 months while I was at XIC, many times I questioned my decision. Sometimes I cursed myself and sometimes I made peace with the fact that I needed to do this. But yet again I continued to culture my desire to learn.

Now XIC is done. I am supposed to take the next step and this time it isn't as easy as it was when I was first out of BBA. Because this time alot more is expected off me. And I personally expect way more with myself.

I am not sentimental about things. But I am very sentimental about this competition I have with myself to excel beyond imagination. I want to curb the part of me that riddles in self doubt and break the boundaries I create for myself. At times it is exhausting. But then again the high one gets post that exhaustion is indescribable.

Satyamev Jayate - the criticism that followed

We have issues with people who do not initiate dialogue.
When asked to initiate a dialogue towards awareness we put our hands up and say - who are we and who will listen to us?!
When given a platform and an education to do so we shake our heads and say - WE, the middle class, need to feed ourselves and sustain our lifestyles and THIS does not pay.

So here is a person who has covered all bases and is trying to initiate a dialogue - he has the audience, the content researched by an able team and he has created a format that an average individual can understand.

And NO the show isn't perfect but nothing really is.
Is he pushing his image? Maybe so.
Is he making a profit? I really don't know.
But are people watching? Yes they are.

And THAT to me is good enough reason for Aamir Khan to be up there shedding a few tears while he does educate many on the basics of some very important issues.

It is reality content but it is better content than what I see on most days. 
Sometimes one wholehearted or even half-hearted initiation of dialogue brings people together who can actually make a difference.
If an average Indian learns of a thing called CHILDLINE via Satyamev Jayate, it is a start. Embrace it. Don't stop criticizing but don't negate the entire show's futility either.

Better with you

There is a song. It speaks volumes to me.
Better with you  by Ben Kweller

I am a mess. Right now I am a mess. A basket case with chaos surrounding me. Some days I feel like I am falling into a big hole lined with people laughing at me. And even in this state of mind, I am better with you. For you I try. I know you and I are on different pages. Maybe on different chapters as well. But it is ok. I like this difference.

'Even at my best, I am better with you.'

I am lost. And confused. Many things I thought I had a grip on are slipping like sand. But I would let you take me anywhere. Because yes it IS better with you.

I will never change you. Never. You are my Shrek. Imperfectly perfect... always.

Roots

So most people tell me how one has very distinct singular roots. How one belongs to one community. As a kid that troubled me. I was born a Bengali. I was born in a quiet city called Midnapur in West Bengal. And I grew up all over India.
Primarily in Punjab. And before I knew it I felt and behaved like one.

But that is the thing. My roots have kept evolving throughout.

I do not have singular roots. I have roots in many places and in many cultures. I find my roots in Pune too. The city where I came of age. The city that broke my heart, mended it and taught me to be an adult.

My roots also lie in Delhi. A city I defend and criticize with equal passion. A city I cry for when I am away.

Now I live in Bombay and am slowly forming connections here. Slowly absorbing the essence of what makes it the way it is.

I have figured that I form these roots not just because of what I absorb but also because of people I interact with. The ones I meet... The ones who influence me... The ones who leave... It all contributes to small parts of what makes me and the stories behind the creation of these parts.

 

Over the years the realization of all this helped me come to terms with the fact that I am and will always be a khanabadosh. I will forever carry my home on my shoulders forming roots around the world. And THAT is quite a fun realization :)