‘It’s only through death that we understand the meaning of life.’

Another year has passed by and here I am inching slowly and steadily towards forty. Yeahhhhhhhh! I’m famously cranky on my birthday, always have been and probably always will be! One of the reasons I avoid human interaction but since I am about to make my grand exit out of a decade that has been nerve wreaking, painfully depressive but oh so enlightening, I thought I might as well make a thing out of it. Plus, my uncle’s passing has had me spiralling downwards while giving me sleepless nights. The entire process had me reliving a time my mind conveniently blocked out and simultaneously imagining going through it with both my parents. Standing alone next to the pyre will be a bit much even for this lone wolf.

Do you think people change? I don’t think so! I think we add on a few more masks along the way, get a little polished but essentially we remain as we were. As I look back I find very little difference between the 9 year old me and the 39 year old other than the fact the head has taken over the heart, completely. But the head and the heart have remained the same.

The fear of other humans, especially of the herd has remained intact. Though, I have gotten better at handling people and apparently reading them (if you spend more time listening and less time talking you do pick up a trick or two), I’m still baffled by most. You would assume that heart ache and loss may have put a dent on the defiance but I remain just as incorrigible. There was a period when there was a drastic change in my behaviour. But it wasn’t like the metamorphosis of a butterfly but rather just the chameleon changing it’s colour. The self deprecation and the masochism have started masking themselves as humour and eccentricity and the inability to tow the line has become a boon from a bane!

The innocence has unfortunately disappeared into thin air and SC ( super clingy) is hardly ever allowed to come out to play. With her lies to rest the softer, romantic, idealistic, dreamer who lives in lah, lah land and wants a big wooden house which has a plaque with home sweet home on it and lots of babies in it. Every night for a few minutes when the moon shines brightly in the sky and the wind blows through SB’s hair, SC peeps out of her shell. They have both remained the same, one wanting and the other one protecting.

The cloak of mystery or ambiguity that lies on my shoulder which has drawn men and lots of gossip, I’m still covered by. Therefore, neither the men nor the gossip have reduced in all these years. Though the average age of the men has varied there has been a type. The type most women find undesirable, one has dated more virgins than are granted in Jannat ( just kidding). Oh and of course I still love to shock, probe and appall other people to find out more about their so called higher moral ground which they have gained not through their own experiments with good or bad but by prostrating in front of a set of rules which have been shoved down their throats. ‘This is not right!’ they tell my questionable morality. ‘How would you know?’ whispers my defiance, ‘ I’ll agree or disagree when I have done it!’

Ps- For all those who claim mein kitni Sudhar gayee hu because I no longer stick out my middle finger at the drop of a hat, next time you are speaking some patriarchal bullshit and you see me scratching my forehead, notice which finger does it. Doggie ki tail siddhi itni aasani se kaise ho gi, mamu?