For the love of Red!

My mum was an intensely passionate woman. She loved everything in shades of red and pink. From her nail paint to her lipstick to her lingerie, everything spelled seductress.

I on the hand, hardly ever wear nail paint or lipstick but the love for everything else,is the same. It’s tough for women, to be sexual beings and in her day and age, it was a bitch! Sometimes, when I find life to be too hard, like I do these days, I find myself reliving my childhood. Maybe, it’s the photographs or the isolation, maybe it’s the general disappointment and hopelessness but mum’s life, inspires me, to not loose my mind.

A funny thing about writing about your life or someone else’s is, you can’t really truly be honest. You can’t really say it exactly as it is or was. One can be generic, ‘she was intensely lonely in the last few years of her life’, is permissible. But you can’t really say specifically what the equation was with each person, why suddenly everybody, vanished from her life in the last few years. But they are there lurking in your memory, having left a lasting impression about the world.

If my own experiences were not good enough for me to learn, mum’s life definitely teaches me. In your strong moments, the world stands by you. In your weak one’s whether you are as sweet and as loving as my mom or as chudail type like me, you’ve bloody well had it. So, look inwards and befriend your solitude. It will never stalk you, throw a fit, give you the silent treatment nor will it unfriend you in your most trying times.

Suicide, na, no way, is another lesson. It’s taken me a long time to reach here, her death has definitely driven the nail through that coffin. Someone asked me, ‘I hope you’re not going to do something!’ SB was dormant, at that time otherwise, she would have replied, ‘ Now if I decide to go, I’ll take a few with me!’

Giving without a thought and loving without reason, was what made my Amma amazing but I have no intentions of repeating those mistakes. Six manless years (talking and hanging out doesn’t count) can turn into sixteen for all I care but in matters of the heart, I am going to use my brains. My Amma spent forty one years with a man, I don’t think I can even manage forty one days at the moment. But I should try to commit to someone and be in it for the long haul. Like my parents were in it for worse and better, someday, I should try that. It’s seeming less and less repulsive, since she’s gone.

While there may be a lot of people who abandon you in the winter of your life. there are some who stand by your side. A childhood friend of mom’s, was in her corner till the end. I should learn not to be so cynical looking at that or from even my own life, the wonderful childhood friends, my aunt and the ex assistant are a constant source of support, at this time. I haven’t learnt but I should. ‘You got to trust somebody’, said a friend. I should give that a shot.

It’s also inspired me to doll up a bit. Next time you see me all dressed up, know that it’s for the one who will watch me gleefully from above.