Let it go!

Got a call from a cousin in the afternoon, which I returned last night. Ufffff! It’s funny how we go on with our existence, jumping from one thing to another, in my case from one adventure to another, with our buffers intact, not sorting out all the emotional bullshit that needs to be sorted out. And then, it stares us again and again in our face, till we confront that demon or in my case look for another thing to escape, into.

‘ Darling, tu nahin toh koi aur sahee, koi aur nahin to koi aur sahee!’ sums up my entire dating life. So, why does it bother me sooo much? Why is it that one thing, that can STILL be used to push my buttons, why? Na, it’s not love, my dear, don’t mistake it for that. I do love obsessively, in an all consuming manner, but it’s in spurts for a short duration. The need of the damsel to be rescued (that has been the underlying theme off all my love stories), the subconscious need of the rebel to find to an anchor who appeals to everyone who finds her haywire, the need of the introvert to find the extrovert, the need of the bad for the good, the serious for the humorous, the stable for the unstable, the list goes on. It’s that, it’s just that and hope. Umeed pe duniya kaayam he jaaneman, feeling hopeless is painful, liberating but painful!

‘Get over it!’ they say. Trust me, I say it to myself all the time. ‘Get the fuck over it!’ SB yells at SC. Each year, I think I have till someone brings up his name and it feels like a dagger in my chest.

I go out on a few dates with the Bengali boy a couple of years ago and in turn, return with a tatoo on my arm. Anyone who knows me knows what those tats mean. It becomes quite apparent to me, that I ain’t ready, yet. ‘When the fat lady sings, I’ll get over it!’ SC reassures SB, with the same bs, she has been telling her ever since she laid eyes on the camel, fifteen years ago.

Five years later, the fat lady hasn’t sung, the lookout for the perfect woman is still on! In the meanwhile the father proposes one marry either of the two men, who turn up each time mum is in the hospital. Religion seems to matter to him less, each passing year. Good, younger men who are emotionally available and respectful, SB knows all of that is only because she’s the dominant personality, now (though one has stuck around through her worst phase). For now, nothing will happen, the rabbit keeps me company and the boys make really good friends. Plus, I no longer need rescuing and SC no longer looks at anyone with hope!