One began the year, wanting oneself to feel better…less erratic and less melancholic. Half the year is over and it dawns on me, it’s time to rise. It gets awfully uncomfortable being on the roller coaster ride, as I age. Thankfully, one’s no longer a teenager and as masochistic as one was but these raging emotions, that make one feel like one is so terribly down in the dumps that one doesn’t want to go on even for another day, some days and then suddenly flying on a rocket, feeling absolutely invincible, on others, can be quite confusing, tiring and many a times very scary. When will it get a bit aggravated? When will I stop being aware of what’s going on in my silly head and start overturning cars and turn violent like my mother is what constantly worries me. ‘You’ll be fine!’ says the shrink, ‘you’re better!’ More productive, masks as better, rather well.

Does this seem better? I have to wonder, when I pause between non stop action, for just a bit. Weeks go by, sometimes, when one goes without interacting with people unrelated to work …everybody is shrugged aside, with ‘ya, ya just busy’, calls go unanswered, messages are replied to curtly…while one hides behind computers, books and machines, sometimes howling like the world has come to an end and at times, so ecstatic, like one’s just fallen in love, yet again! Even the house, makes one uneasy, so one spends night after night on a make shift bed, staring out at nothingness and my only constant, the moon. Oh, I’m such a peach, ain’t I?

Most people I know have figured, engaging with one is either going to be met with deadly silence, a quip or just rage, so they tread rather carefully but then there are others, who insist on showing up to check on the crazy lady! I think the Art Fair was emotionally cathartic, helped coming to terms with a few things. Since, I promised the shrink to break my childhood record of crying on my birthday, this year, one worked like crazy the entire month, to not be melancholic, outdid all the sales records, started to pick up my camera again but broke the promise, nevertheless. The next afternoon, as I sat in an empty house, lit two candles, cut the cake a friend had sent the previous day and sang happy birthday to oneself, , one also promised oneself, this has to end, not the solitude silly, this fear of when I’m going to go absolutely cuckoo!

Things happen as they must and always for the better. God, karma and time are even and merciful. A friend wanted to come check up on me…it’s been five years since Road tripping began…someone nominated that project for a grant ( which I didn’t apply for but so thankful, nevertheless) and many things are telling one, it’s time to get my behind up and running. Over the past two years, I’ve wondered constantly, if I’ll ever lay eyes on someone whose eyes light up when they see me and after my birthday, like a gift from above, a little boy walked in seeking employment. If I tell you he looks a little like my brother and smiles each time he sees me, you’ll think I am exaggerating but it’s true. Each time he calls me didi, he makes my heart melt. Some of us are born to run alone, mostly but when we can’t thankfully, God, sends people to nudge where he needs us to go. There are many places one needs to be but the only place one really wants to go, is home. The Dal beckons. Here’s hoping for some brighter days!

Why? Kuch nahi he karne ko life mein? Iss na cheez ke liye itna effort? Whoever you are, I’m absolutely convinced, you must be following this blog…considering you are going on random sites and linking my name to shitty urls! I don’t know which is worse- finding my name on sleazy sites or my profile appearing on ‘celebrity’ websites. Aisa he, hum mar jaye to koi char aanson na bahai…celebrity, my ass!

What is wrong with you? What? Continually, for the past two years, you’ve been at it. Did your mum not hug you when you were little? Ithe aa mein tenu dasaa, mera shoe size jo itni achi tara se pata he na, wohi padega. Yucks, sleaze!

In a few days, one will start inching closer towards a milestone birthday. Not much seems to have changed in the past year and yet everything seems to be changing. I still like my seven year old rickety car and eight year old broken phone. I still sleep alone but always with books on my bed. The loves remain the same and the hates? Well, I hate very passionately, like I can scare the crap out of myself with that emotion it can be so intense so I avoid going there, completely. But the people I’ve harboured resentment towards the past two years…I wish I was mature enough to say I’ve forgiven (I’m not there, yet) but one’s found a better way of dealing with it, by being totally engrossed in other things and venting on this platform. Therapy has helped, it makes me realize, how intense the abandonment issues are , what an asshole one is ( not really a revelation but the intensity certainly is) and how intuitive one is. The humour is too self deprecating, apparently, areee come on, I don’t have a spouse to pick on, so I’m my best source of entrainment. But the prime get away has been there are things you can gain with effort but love isn’t one of them, so there’s no shame in giving up on some things and some people. Another thing one has figured out is avoiding human contact, is freaking awesome for my mental health because I have the maturity of a two year old.

One’s been surprised by people, this year. The Art Fair, was something else. The gallery didn’t inform me that they were discussing my work during the art walk, so one was a bit taken aback, with the way they described my pictures. One’s only met a few people in the past two decades who have really seen it from my point of view, so that was refreshing. And there’s another thing that will stay with me- I met up with some batchmates and one of them, has written this interesting read called Cupidity. So, one was having a fan girl moment and what truly surprised me was her friend’s reactions. They were so thrilled for her, that it pleasantly surprised me. Aspirational. I think one would want to someday be like this author’s friends, actually be really, genuinely as thrilled for another woman, with that kind of intensity.

The other thing one has been fixated on is:- what do I want to be when I’m forty five? So, the hours that one’s been putting in, has very little to do with money and much to do with that thing that one wants to turns oneself into- an unstoppable machine ( the only problem with that plan is the BPD- the highs are so freaking high, one’s totally energetic, like a disciplined soldier and the lows make it impossible to get out of bed. It’s like something I read- sometimes I feel like Van Gogh’s starry nights and sometimes like his suicide note) who doesn’t need anyone, especially not a man.

Before you accuse me of being a man hater, let me just say, ‘ come on, look at me, if anything I’m totally, unbiasedly, misanthropic. But I do adore men. Not all though, not the weaker ones who get off on verbally, physically or emotionally abusing women. I’m done with those, for this lifetime! But the rest- I love working with them, I think like them and I thrive in their company, as they’re aggressive and very competitive and that’s totally up my alley. In fact, every time I walk into a room, my first instinct is to gravitate towards the mundas because that’s where all the fun is and one has failed at decoding one’s gender, as miserably as they have. Plus, like them, I too am looked at like a spoilt, badly behaved, work in progress, rogue who needs to be fixed ( no man has been able to fix me, maybe a woman can).

Having said that, the super clingy (SC) part of my personality, looks at all of them with doe shaped eyes and has always wanted to be rescued by one of them. They’ve tried and failed at doing a job, that isn’t meant for them ( we have to rescue ourselves, I know, I know…dil ko behlane ke liye Ghalib yeh khyaaal acha he). In any case, women are better at this, unfortunately the thirteen year old who was going through a I hate all men after a molestation attempt, who developed a crush on SK and PK, twin sisters who played basketball and looked so cute, with their short hair hasn’t found a woman other than Anokhi Parekh and Sushmita Sen, she would want to be fixed by. ‘Please God, help me tap into my bisexuality, send me a woman with a deep husky voice, broad shoulders and strong hands before I die. I want to play Romeo, someone needs to play my Juliet..man, woman I don’t care’, is my birthday wish, this year but unfortunately nothing, nothing is happening.

Other than my very sweet aunt, sending me proposals. I know she likes me but sometimes , I want to tell her and the boys, who seem to loiter around that, ‘ For once look at me carefully….if I don’t get along with my own tubbar, I’m the blackest sheep in a family where everyone is not really normal, what are the chances that I would get along with a man’s family and especially his friends? With my Sheldon Cooper type ability to put my foot in my mouth and my intense aversion to being controlled or even being answerable to anyone for anything, on what planet would this work out?’ But I remain invisible, I guess, some are blinded by love and the others by contempt. But one remains Mr India, nevertheless.

Happy Father’s Day, to my constant source of entertainment and woes, my companion and my in-law and my source of inspiration for the person I wish to be and also someone I hope I never become. This statement, as dichotomous as it is, falls short in explaining our rather complicated dynamic. But like the boy, you insisted I should be with said, ‘it’s like Amitabh and Deepika in Piku!’ Who knows? For now let’s just try to fit into that box.

I look at you with amazement and horror and that makes me realize how lucky one is to be able to have parents who were fallible humans and not demi Gods, one would have idealised but instead looked at as co travellers, who didn’t have all the answers. Having said that, it doesn’t mean one doesn’t appreciate how hard working and dependable you were. How you stuck around when most would have bailed and how you managed human relationships, so well, for the longest time. To deal with your life partner’s illness, then loose a young son and then to deal with your wife’s death and inspite of your grief to consistently work and focus on someone other than yourself and not shut shop, when you have the option of an easy life, is commendable and highly admirable. It reminds me of the tortoise and the hare.

Your sense of humour keeps me entertained and is also the absolute death of me. No one in this world can come up with such one liners-

‘There are two biggest doomsters ( which isn’t a word, it’s doomsayers but you insist on calling me thus) one was Nostradamus and the other is you! Always, preparing for the worst case scenario .’

‘Jo bhut aur dayan hote he unna koi gender nahi hota!’ Ya, I know, I’m one!

And my most favourite, ‘ You’ll never be a good daughter to me, so don’t do this pakhandbazi!’

The last statement has helped me more than a year’s worth of therapy. It has set my heart free. Hope something takes away the woes of your heart, as well. Have a lovely day.

Bhai Sahab, please find some other occupation! Nobody is interested in this or who my boyfriends have been and I am neither a celebrity nor am I famous. I’m not even adding the shady websites on which you repeatedly connect my name as a keyword. You’re obviously someone I know, the shoe size kind of gives you away. One really doesn’t deserve so much of your attention, my friends have better things to do other than send written complaints to Google and I really feel terribly narcissistic checking on what you’re doing on these sites. Enjoy your life, leave me alone…find something else to do.

Happy birthday to the embodiment of mother hen and brawny alpha male. Thanks for having my back, for trying to constantly save me from combusting and for being ever so amused by my theatrics. To be honest your niceness, does make SB, look at you rather suspiciously, sometimes. But since she’s a teeny, tiny bit scared of you, she doesn’t spell ‘murder’, so easily. Just kidding ( or maybe not) patient human beings are the most dangerous creatures on the planet. Never know when you’ll explode! But then SC, reassures her, you’re just a fixer- who tends to hurt animals and damaged humans. We all pay for our complexes, you might have to pay heavily for your rescuing ways, too!

Thanks for being my friend. For checking on me everyday, since mum has gone….For keeping your promise to her. For listening to me weep…For scolding me, more than any other person would waste their time, doing. For making fun of me, about everything especially boys. Each time I tell you, I find someone hot, you start tripping on my easily annoyed ways. ‘ Go out with him a few times, then we’ll talk!’, your predictions are always on point. Thanks for your generosity and your kindness, for your words of encouragement and most of all your silliness, that matches mine! You may not be the boy in my heart nor the one on my skin, you may not be the devil in my brain who whispers my name but you’re definitely a very dependable man and having you around feels safe, secure and comforting! That’s why you’re one of SC’s favourite people in the world. No one else scolds her when her hair is disheveled, asks her dress up, tells her she’s like a two year old and prays for her when she’s getting all hysterical. I can get into any kind of trouble, I know you’re the one person, who’ll try to get me out of it!

By the way, there are things that you should have learnt how to do before turning 40- like driving a freaking car! Next time, you’re here, you better get your ass behind the wheel. Maybe, I shouldn’t be a hypocrite and complain. In forty years, you haven’t learnt how to drive and I haven’t learnt to navigate through society…same, same, I guess!

Anyhow, sorry I didn’t show up for you, like you always show up for me. It would have been nice…we could have gone dancing. Most days, scandals entertain me but sometimes I get tired. Four days, would have become a decade of bullshit, that would get spun around and broadcasted to anyone who would listen. One is slowly resigning to the fact, that one is going to remain under the microscope, for as long as there’s no man to parade around and when there is one, he’ll be made to dance on strings, to control the defiant woman. In any case, since one has already given you all her wealth (which doesn’t exist) and is making you a director in the company ( if you you were the kind..they really think, I would be speaking to you but logic is blinded by misogyny) there’s nothing left for you to do, I guess, so off you go! Since, you’re the only person I know, whose never asked me for anything, I really didn’t want more shade flung your way.

Have a fabulous day and a blessed year. Come soon, so we can go dancing in the clubs and streets of Delhi…go hogging in Chandni Chowk and I’ll even show you some cool, quiet places, I’ve found. See you later, alligator!

I might suck at love, but one does love the idea of it. What can I say- we at a 100 pieces of me, love…love! So, what if our heart chakra is blocked and we have become incapable of even dating, forget committing? ‘Give love and yourself a chance’, they say! I seem to have given both too many but…. Anyhow, to reactivate my chakra and pump up my cold, cold, heart, one of course ships gay love stories- they seem to be the only ones that look real and so freaking dramatic and of course one keeps going through, these adorable cartoons by Kim-

Other than Kashmir Files ( one will drag oneself to watch the hateful propaganda sooner rather than later. Of course, hearing from all the Kashmiri groups one is on, especially the Pandit one they say it is a true account but most of them agree, it’s divisive politics) the next big thing is the slap that was heard throughout the world. Chris Rock was slapped by Will Smith, for his unsavoury comment against his wife. Not a big fan of the way he handled it but in the social hierarchy for a black man to pick on a black woman, for her looks, especially her hair ( black women are very touchy about it) and both the times he’s hosted the Oscars, looks like punching down. As a rule, comedy is funnier, if it’s punching up. Anyhow, I’m always a bit uncomfortable with jokes on things that a person can’t change-a disability…a medical condition ( like alopecia) unless it’s self deprecating humour- that’s my favourite kind.

Much is being said- Smith has resigned from the Academy and there’s a disciplinary hearing in a couple of weeks. Why is one so interested? Well it hits home on many levels. Not on the world renowned superstar bit, silly, but his childhood, his marriage, what he’s been going through personally, it breaks my heart to watch, a person disintegrating into that. I don’t think anyone, who hasn’t witnessed domestic violence, will ever know the extent of damage it does to a human being-it makes one either incredibly guarded or a total people pleaser. It skews your view of the world, of marriage…how you bring up your children. Just read about Ben Affleck and the disaster that he turned his life into. That gave me the hibbiee jibbes!

To top that, if rumours are to be believed, the heavy closeting that Hollywood demands can’t be easy on anyone. Secret love or keeping love a secret ain’t easy, on nobody. If all of that is just plain gossip, in any case heterosexual relationships are rather dubious, which makes his marriage very problematic for society at large. Monogamy which has been shoved down everyone’s freaking throats, is unnatural as hell! Maybe, after forty but before that come on man! I came from a household which was rather unconventional for its time or maybe we just happened to be aware of the fact that our parents, were fallible human beings and not some Demi gods. When I grew up, I realized that everyone just covered their shit with whipped cream and put a cherry on the top, so it all looked hunky dory. But men, as well as women, struggled with keeping up this unnatural facade. So, if you really examined it- everyone, was in an open relationship. Mostly it was the men because women are afraid of the wrath of society but trust me, its the same for the other gender. Don’t believe me, go into a restraunt, sit by yourself, check out the behaviour of all the married women, around attractive men and I’m not talking about your stereotypical aunty. Just observe, the way they look, the way their voices change, their bodies will naturally turn towards them, the way they play with their hair…yup…we’re all just animals. You’ll figure, most of the times that its just some external forces of morality and not some internal compass, that holds them back.

I admire gay couples, they seem to be so honest with one another. This garb of ‘honey I don’t look at anyone other than you!’ truly sickens me to my stomach. I mean, it’s your business who and however many people you’re doing, whether you’re straight or gay, neither the law, nor society has a right to enter your bedroom, just because property is involved. I’m not a fan of Jada and Will Smith’s but I admire honesty and vulnerability. In a world full of couples, who are just pretending to be perfect, it takes balls to say, ‘we have a miserable marriage!’ But society breaks you down, relegates you-punishes you for not pretending, for being the honest one and elevates the pretender, the liar. The upholder of morality, just being the one who lies better. As for this curious matter of morality- isn’t that subjective. In India, a single man can do as he pleases whereas a woman can’t date multiple men without being branded a whore, on the other hand abroad you can go out with different people till you commit. Thankfully, the law, as well as Bridgerton will agree, maidens can’t wait around forever, for a man to make up his mind. Polygamy can be practiced by Muslim men-they can have four wives also polyandry is practiced in a village in Himachal- a woman can keep four husbands. There are tribal societies around the world that practice polygamous relationships. In fact, in Gabon, Central Africa, both women and men are allowed to practice polygamy. My question is why get married in the first place? Yikes, imagine waking up to the same face for the rest of your life. ( I really should stop saying this. It’s funny, a little boy asked me recently, ‘Is it liberating waking up to a new face, every morning?’ It was hilarious because, when I say this, people assume, that I’m actually doing that). Some of us have demons to slay at night and we wake up exhausted and cranky after the battle…alone is better.

So morality is just about geography or maybe even just about who you’re hanging with. Will Smith, should hang around musicians or around the Osho Ashram. in a world full of fakes, find some people who are not hiding behind their well crafted masks and trying to put one on you as well.

I lie on the couch, in the factory which has become more familiar than my bed…peering outside at the tree. I toss and turn, unable to calm my nerves down. I pop another pill, thank God, they’re not yet sleep inducing or mind altering drugs. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since ten in the morning. There’s a dread that grips my heart, when the freaking thing starts off and it’s not regarding work or one of my usual friends who’ve kept a watch out for me.

‘Another round of bullshit is going to begin! This isn’t a coincidence, five calls in one day, from the same network.’ nags SB. ‘ Like this, you will not let me speak to anyone!’ complains SC, who feels trapped behind SB’s pokey exterior. She longs for the sun, a little warmth, some faith, a smile…just a bit of tenderness. The other one, who not only had her temper, vicious tongue and general pokiness, as a defense mechanism (what has been termed ‘anti social behaviour’) has developed better ‘walls’ ( they’ve been called my fortress), classic escapist, now hides behind work. Not the work, that has kept her (relatively) sane for two decades…but lets solve the financial mess before you get royally screwed kind of work! She’s a woman on a mission, with only herself to truly rely on. All the knives in the back, have triggered an obsession with the idea of financial security, absolute privacy, a legacy plan and adopting babies!

The internal dialogue goes on and on-

SC- let’s go to the Dargah. They even messaged to find out if everything is alright.

SB- Wait! I don’t need you to get all weepy and emotional. We got shit to do.

SC- But I have to shoot. If this carries on I won’t be able to create anything..

SB- Doesn’t matter.

SC- Stop getting anxious…nothing is happening.

SB- Haven’t you learnt anything from your mother’s life and your own? Something is freaking up, this is round three. Prepare for the onslaught!

SC- I just want to go home!

We hold on so tightly to something and then one day you wake up…see his picture with someone else and for the first time in almost two decades, magically it no longer hurts. I don’t have to tell myself ‘that boy doesn’t exist’…Nothing, zilch! Other than ‘glad he’s happy!’ ‘If only you let go of the four of them will you make space for someone new!’ You look at the tatoo on the arm and think, ‘one down, three to go! Could have given these two a little more thought!’ Nevertheless, a saying from the Granth Sahib and the Quran…sums up everything..but nothing to fret over…at least for me…for the future lovers…hmmm!!!The other ones will be a little tougher to get over…none of them were, cold! Guess, something is working! Getting rid of all my (real and imaginary) ghosts ….

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‘ Tu mujhse khafaa he to zamane ke liye aa. Ranjhish hi sahi, dil dukhane ke liye aa!’

‘Are you lonely these days? The songs you share on FB, give the impression you’re sad!’ asks my friend. ‘ Nope, I don’t feel lonely. I have books, music and the moon to keep me company.’

‘ Eventually, you’ll need someone to hang around, who’ll show up when you need him‘ they say. ‘ My male friends are there to hang out with, I can speak to them whenever I want plus I don’t need to meet anyone more than once a week.’ There are plenty of reasons apparently to look for love-loneliness ( if only) procreation ( don’t need any other person like myself prancing around the world), companionship ( that’s a laugh, check out Tinder, there are a dime a dozen married people on it) and sex ( technology is quite good at fulfilling all my needs). In all the glorification of matrimony and henceforth love, no one conveniently mentions convenience.

All relationships are based on convenience, that’s an indisputable fact. We need someone to talk to, whose around to split responsibilities with, who is there when we want to go out…I don’t know how much of it is habitual, practicality, acquisition and how much of it is a matter of the heart. As for love- Love ends in tragedy in any case- either through separation, death or marriage.

I love the idea of love, don’t get me wrong. The high of the first year, I wish I could remain on that forever. Plus, we are khandani aashiqs. There were three elopements in my mum’s generation and some of my brothers have done the kind of things for their women, books are written about.

As for me, before I became obsessed with the younger ones, some of the men I went out with have done some of the most romantic things for me. The relationships failed because come on, it ain’t easy to have with one a neurotic, self indulgent person who does exactly as she pleases. After my mum’s death a friend who thought he had fallen for me came to the house and had a chat with my dad. My father was so disappointed, the next day he said to me, ‘ your mama’s told me they would shoot me if I entered Jammu, they actually had guns and they had the temperament to do that. What kind of cowards do you find?’ I don’t know about him, since one wasn’t interested but my failed relationships have taught me- Cowardly women, afraid of love tend to attract cowardly men, incapable of action.

But having said that I too would have loved to be the hero of my own love story just like my mum, haaii, but that never happened. I too want my daughter to someday, tell a prospect-‘ meri ma ne nasaya si mere pyoon ni, defiance is ingrained in the blood. We don’t wait to be rescued from the tower, we ride on the horse and get our men ourselves!’ But alas! it ain’t meant to be.

As the number of Covid cases come down and I’m asked to rethink dating, it seems like a highly risky task. Earlier I would check out the moves and think to myself, ‘ that’s to get into my pants. Now, I just go, yup, that’s to get a job or a house.’ One’s especially, afraid now that one has also gone and written about the BPD on a public platform. With the number of swindling instances and divorce cases, where women get accused of suffering mental illnesses so that the man can get away with anything, some jackass could take me for a real ride. Plus prenuptial agreements are null and void as under the Hindu law, marriage isn’t considered a contract! ‘There are many a men who are falsely accused of demanding dowry. By this logic, everyone would live as hermits and no one would trust anyone!’ they say. Touché.

Truth is, I could say anything and write anything to convince myself but I’m a freaking coward. The stone has gathered too much moss and the rolling that it did earlier, was so unnecessary not regrettable but avoidable that the effort required to clean up and start again, seems so damn enormous. Maybe, no one seems worth the effort or maybe I’m just waiting to find my moonshot. The one impossible love, I could risk everything for!

So one’s been cooped in my office in the factory since Saturday. Sick as a dog…the test results were negative but sick nevertheless, with fever, a headache and a soar throat. Started shivering during the night shift and didn’t go home. Since one is the only person I know off, whose only taken a single shot, I’m told one needs to be extra careful. Of course, these days one always keeps medicines around, so recovering steadily.

Like the way, one is perpetually turned on since one’s hit forty ( hormones I guess), same way one seems to be perpetually high on the idea of love these days. Mere dimaag mein jo blockbuster film chalti he na, Sallu bhai’s 300 crore film would look like a SatyaJit Ray in comparison. Why do you think I’m so bored by the rest of the world? I’m like, not enough drama…go away dude. I’ll entertain myself! Just kidding. Come on man, bear with me. I could wake up a few people I know at half one and go, ‘what’s upppp?’ but I should start growing up a little. Teeny, tiny bit, let’s not overshoot.

Kahan the hum? Hai ishq! Kashmir ki jab bhi hava lagti he, my mind starts floating on cloud nine, not that it ever walks on the surface of this earth…in the realm of reality. But somehow it stays in lah lah land longer. Then Satte pe satta plays on the tele and Ali Bachchan is serenading Hema Malini with ‘Dilbar mere!’ and all the teenage romantic cells in my body get charged. Hai, I always want to be him in the film, i’ve never imagined myself as the babe whose being serenaded. What is this bakvas crap, women are told, ‘ be with someone who loves you more than you love him!’ Wow, so that when they stop loving you, everything is over? Be with someone you love more, then most of how it shapes up is your decision. My mum loved my Dad more than he could have ever loved her, someday, my babies will say, ‘ mum got on a tempo and got dad! Not the other way around!’ The way I tell people, ‘my mum made my father elope…she was all of four feet six inches but she was the alpha.’

So much for inna, meena, deeka, alpha, beta, theta…I’m not drunk! Sick and a little homesick, I guess….I miss Kashmir….always but a little more tonight….

The year of learnings passed by and somehow miraculously by God’s grace and the support of a few friends and loads of strangers, one managed to survive. One seems to have lost a lot but as the year ended one realized, one had gained as much. One learned lovely lessons about self love, care and worth and one gained a perspective that was beyond just one own’s self interest. One has much to learn about oneself and the world but by oneself, when you’re in the deep end you have two choices- sink or swim. Turns out I ain’t ready to sink, just about yet.

Of course the various therapies helped, in some way or the other but more than that Kashmir grounds one more than anything else. If you are an indulgent, depressive, privileged brat like myself one trip to Kashmir, gives you a reality check. Fatak se thapad and one’s dragged out of the hole one tends to fall into. Then of course, Jordan Peterson has also slapped the melancholy straight out of me. So, one’s rearing to go! Looking forward to what this year will bring.

One of the wisest lessons one learnt was when you feel like shit, try to make someone else feel better and that works like magic. That’s what made New Year’s Eve such a memorable night. Met a few people during the week but didn’t think, I wanted to be around anyone in particular on the last night of the year. Since, the workers at the factory are away from their families ( and almost as alone as I sometimes imagine myself to be) I thought I would throw a party for them, so I cooked them a meal. They were thrilled and how. The photographs they all kept clicking and the dancing on the street to Bhojpuri songs I will always remember but the most memorable part about the night was this-

This young lad lives close to the factory. For reasons one doesn’t want to disclose, people are rather nasty to him. He and I are now buddies, so I invited him, too. I think when he turned up in his red sweater and told me, that’s he’s informed his mum that he’s going for a party, till kingdom comes I think I’ll remember that look on his face. Ahh, that made New Year’s Eve-priceless! Shared a drink with Bhaskarji, chatted with a few friends and was off to bed.

The father was sleeping so. he missed out on the fun. ‘ Happy new year Dad! I hope you spend some time with your child this year!’ I teased him this morning. ‘My child is a 42 year old woman not a six year old girl, who needs my time.’ Some things don’t change however many years pass by so I’m guessing we’ll continue to pull each other’s leg this year, as well.

One came to the factory to spend the weekend, at work but stepped out for an hour to celebrate the 1st day of the year, with the one person who entertains me the most- moi. A lovely meal at Swagat where a man sung- ‘iss shahar mein kiss se mile? Humse to chuti mehfale!’ made me think- one rarely is part of the mehfil but one has a good time, nevertheless.

Here’s hoping one continues to make the most of any situation, continues to enjoy one’s own company and becomes grateful for the people who are there. Not just the friends but the domestic help, who yells into the phone when I’m travelling- ‘ Davayee khai he ke nahin?’ and the worker, who makes me a cup of tea whenever he sees me weeping in a corner or the little boy who keeps waiting for me to show up and grins at me the way my brother would, eyes all lit up. There’s much to be thankful for. My Dad says, ‘ people are just trying to isolate us by gossiping about us incessantly!’ but I always tell him, ‘ people can ostracise you, they can try to bully you ( and fail) they can call up everyone you know, each and every person but no one can isolate you. That one does to one self because realistically there are a billion people, you can connect with, so that ain’t happening.’

Here’s to new connections, kinship and hope. This year is going to be ammmmmaaaaaziiing!

Sometime during the year, someone asked me what am I grateful for and one was pissed off and angsty, so of course one had the choicest things to say. Ya, ya, I know, one is a royal pain in the butt but relatively honest, you have to grant me that. So if I’m angry every fibre of my being- from my hair to my toe will scream that it’s pissed and it wouldn’t care if it makes me look bad, it is what it is. Pretending to be pleasant and nice ain’t my trip in life! But having said that Jannat-e- Kashmir meri jaan, has a calming effect on the raging bull, so one’s ending the year, on a happy note. Here’s what I’m thankful for-

1) For my Amma- In retrospect it’s so much easier to forget pain and just remember the good stuff. Death and distance do tend to glorify people a bit but as I struggled with my mind this year, one got to re-examine my mum’s life almost as much as my own and however she lacked as a mum she was a class apart as a human being. I’ll always be grateful for having had the privilege to witness the life of someone, who was so different-depressive and joyous, loving and violent, doing exactly what she pleased yet never being indifferent. Truly, a character worth knowing.

2) To these crazy ships- I think it was somewhere around May, when one started to question everything. Existential angst came to hit me with a bang. Everybody kept telling me to find someone and somehow married people look so out of love to me, that nothing inspired me to tie that noose around my neck. Somehow, the cynical me, chanced upon Jikook and Larry Stylinson and yes, I know I’m not a sixteen year old girl but there’s something so enticing about forbidden love, that one was hooked and how. My daily dose of watching videos of closeted gay couples and a little bit of thinking about Shabnam Hashmi and Gauhar Raza, has kind of rekindled my life long romance with the idea of love. Not that one is looking, far from it but it’s nice to not growl at the idea of it, at least. Don’t you think all great love stories are essentially about fighting against ‘them’-family, society, world, injustice, whatever gives you an adrenaline rush? Or maybe like they ask , ‘Is it separation or is it marriage that’s worse for love?’ The jury’s out on that one nevertheless we are starting to love the idea of love, again.

3) The wonderful insights- One’s bumped into many people this year who helped me more than they’ll know. Their valuable insights about-life, femininity, grief, strength, rights, love, even about me as an individual helped me a great deal and one is truly grateful.

4) Realizations- One is apparently, very self critical, so very rarely can anyone tell me something terrible about myself that I don’t actually know. But two things really stood out- someone told me I was being very touchy about anyone calling me a photographer and that was on point.Months passed by and I couldn’t shoot, so I was being highly sensitive about it. One thought one would never be able to shoot again, so that comment really made me work on the problem. The second comment came from my father. He was explaining something about the business to me, about always having a backup plan and in the midst of this serious discussion he smiled and said, ‘you know everything about it! Since your teenage years, you’ve always kept a back up plan!’ Honestly, it was terrible and yet so true. I always thought, I was the queen of the rebound because I was just commitment phobic but shit I’m more cowardly than I ever admitted to myself. When I look back at all my relationships, I realize, I always expected them to fail. Going in, my subconscious strategy was, this is going to end sooner or later, what will I do next? If ever there’s a next time, I have to think it’s going last.

5) Friends- The one’s who miraculously, have had my back the past two years. To go against the tide and have someone’s back when no one is by their side requires real spine. Respect! It hasn’t been easy, in fact like they say ‘ the best part about the worst time of your life is that you get to see the true colours of everyone around you.’ Wow, what a revelation it has been! For helping me hold on to my sanity, for showing up, for the scoldings , the coaxing and the fussing, thank you mere gine chune, chindi chor, dosto you all know who you are! Tum jaise ——ka sahara he dosto!

6) The detractors- For all those whose lives are so uninteresting that they spend so much time discussing mine, plotting, recording, trying to hack my phone, trying to link my articles to porn sites, thank you. Iss kaneez ko itni importance, wah! It’s made me realize, I’m truly blessed to have so many things to occupy my brain, tongue and time with. It’s a privilege one’s truly starting to feel chuffed.

7) Karma and the Lord- Karma has been quite kind to me and Khudda ke to hum entertainment channel hai hi! Barring the times I’m bloody pissed with him, he keeps me good company on solitary nights.

So on this X’mas day, this is my gratitude list. Since one’s always a bad girl of course Santa, didn’t come down the chimney but in my old age I’ll try, to be good, just to see what the damn fuss is all about! He might pay me a visit then.

Dear Love,

Time passes like it does and before you start to think that just because I don’t pass by the cremation ground, everyday, I’m beginning to forget you…it ain’t so. You’re in my blood, up in the sky, even in the mirror…sometimes. But I can’t pass by that place, everyday now, it gets to me. For sometime, I need a break from death.

I was told recently, by someone who practices reflexology that my body still carries the trauma of loosing you. Who can really tell, what kind of trauma we all carry? But one does, curse you everyday, asshole! Since the cuteness quotient in this house has been reduced to zilch, after mum, it’s quite the haunted house, now. Ironic, you were the muh mangi dua and one was the ansuni faryaad…the one that can’t be his…I’m still told every few days and you’re gone and one is still here. Well, we all need our villains, I’m making you mine. Okay?

Your childhood friend Rohan came over with his mum, to meet us. Unfortunately, neither of us were home. Very considerate of him, the last time Dad met him was at your cremation. Goodwill, they say carries beyond death. Sometimes, it makes sad, though. You were wonderful, God knows only our mum and Jimin could compete with your cuteness but our mom was even warmer. It’s heartbreaking when women aren’t spared, even when they’re gone.

Our really sweet relatives, were here from Hyderabad and very patiently, Uncle was trying to give me some life lessons about running the unit, about marriage and how I’m not thinking about my future. He was so concerned and sweet, I was really touched. Not once did he mention, quitting the business or going away, in fact he kept saying, ‘you can bring someone well educated, home!’. I liked him so much, that Dad kept telling me, ‘you’re doing naatak infront of him!’ Well, he never did figure out about our mum and I, that we reciprocated and multiplied whatever we were given.

It’s sweet, all of them think, there’s some Kashmiri boy I’m going to marry and probably I need a nudge in that direction. That’s hilarious. Wild horses, will have to drag me down that path. As for Kashmiri boys, they’re cute and most of them display spine but other than the one who got tattooed on my body, a long, long time ago…I doubt anyone else is making a way into my heart. I’m told about time, I let the past go, with all its losses before it renders me useless. You, mum, him and of course the one I clung to for dear life, just a little so that I can see what is in front of me. Well, in front of me, there are are men who look at me and see your father’s stuff. So invariably directorship, job, moving into this house, are spun in nicely into the conversation, when I meet someone, new. I ain’t falling for that, what do I do? Some of them are funny, though. I went on a trip, recently and as usual I spent more time around the men. So, one night I’m weeping in bed and outside I hear one guy tell another, ‘ I was so good, I was talking to her…I even played with a dog and gave him biscuits but I got nothing!’ I know I should be offended but I thought it was hilarious. I missed you so much that night because only you and I could be amused by this honest declaration.

So, the future doesn’t look very promising but it is what is. There’s too much to take care of right now to worry about love. In any case, between the unrequited and the familial one, all corners, someone complained seem to be occupied. Will make some space I’ve promised myself. Let’s see, if I manage to.

‘Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.’

It’s strange how patterns reappear in a person’s life. It’s the Universe’s way of telling you to sort yourself out. Some may look at them as punishments and others as do overs. I think the Universe…Karma…God (whatever you call the trip you’re on) are quite gracious with chances. One’s always believed- Tu nahi to koi aur sahi, koi aur nahi to koi aur sahi. You can either have the mentality of scarcity or of abundance. One has to choose, at some point to either follow the trodden path, be afraid that if one screws up, everything will come to an end or to say ‘well, back to drawing board…let’s begin again!’

I think the latter, is more fun, no? It’s a life long adventure. ‘ Subject is prone to dealing with things through hit and trial method’ says the psychological profiling! Well, just read a synopsis of subject’s life and know there are more misses than hits but it has been one helluva ride. One got a great kick on my butt, recently or like my friend’s say, ‘someone pricked your ego and we’ve been waiting for that to happen, for months, so that you’ll snap out of this depressive mind frame’. Someone, I’ve known for almost three decades, called up around a month ago and said all kinds of stuff to me but the best thing he did for me, was he uttered these words. ‘ You’re having such a hard time, I think in a couple of years, you must move out of Delhi!’ In that moment, I didn’t think much of it. I just went, ‘ya, ya, we’re thinking about taking up a place in Goa.’ I’ve always wanted a getaway home, but Kashmir is an impossibility now. It’s too unsafe. So, one should be looking at getting a place in Kochi or Goa, at some point, in time.

Of course, as I get to know, how I get to know things, I did get to know what the intentions were. But it made me think- if at the lowest ebb of your life, the people you have surrounded yourself with, your entire life, ask you to run, there’s something off there. So, you got to take a fine tooth comb and run it through your existence and figure shit out. Now, a lot of people who’ve known me a long time, also say the exact opposite of what they want me to do ( my fault, I’m like a rebellious child: one usually does the exact opposite of what I’m told) so then again I need to re-examine my behaviour. Now, if I take the words on face value, that means I’ve surrounded myself with people who can’t face crap and so they are giving me advice based on what they would do! Which means I got to re-examine my choices in life. Irrespective, of what it may be, intense self reflection is obviously required.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an eternal escapist! You should see me, when I come face to face with a man who likes me and wants to commit. I’ll run in every possible direction. But at some point you got to catch the bull by the horns. At some point you got to let your past mistakes make you wiser and not bitter. Months of therapy and almost two years of being stuck in my head, didn’t help me as much as, those kind or not so kind words did. Rebuild baby…rise!

After months of therapy, one realized that the only way to get over one’s antisocial ways, is to take the plunge and just jump into the pot. Excuse my language ( or not) that’s what most public gatherings feel like to moi, as if I’m being thrown into a pot of boiling oil, nothing about it will leave one unscarred.

But turns out I was wrong. I head out on a journey will thirty eight people…some of them I knew but to one, everyone seems like a stranger, these days. Was it smooth sailing…not really, it never is…even as a child I kept to oneself. With age, that hasn’t changed very much, plus, I understand the world as little as it seems to understand me, I guess. My mask is all pokey and right there in everyone’s faces to see, their masks…don’t exist. My brutal honesty seems too harsh and their best foot forward, makes me highly suspicious of most people. So, one does tend to stand out like a sore thumb.

Having said that, this was the best place to be a sore thumb. The spiritually inclined, may be as corrupted as us lesser mortals but some are more accepting of people’s flaws. Some of them tend to take us lost souls, under their wings and connect with us on a deeper level, others not so much. But if you don’t throw yourself into the mix, you do miss out on experiences and learnings that are essential to one’s healing and growth. One’s wept more than one has in the past year. A lovely soul, conducted a water meditation and so much of one’s pent up emotions just came to the surface. For a change SC, who remains well hidden, came out to play. So a few people actually told me that, ‘I’m so nice’. Nice, is the last adjective anyone would use to describe me. Eccentric, stubborn as an ox, moody, bitchy, flirtatious, muhfat, badtameez, yes, nice…absolutely not! Then I figured it’s the CJM, thing. Anyone whose been educated in a convent school, will say thank you, sorry, will reach out to help…it’s our natural instinct, it’s like we are on auto pilot mode. It’s the Convent upbringing, like CJMites discuss, which has been drilled into us by the nuns. Nice people on the other hand, will do stuff they don’t want to do and they’ll be polite. One’s anything but. To get a yes out of me, for anything is seriously tough. I didn’t shoot the entire trip, even if people asked me to, I couldn’t. I’m blocked. I was there for something else and I got lots of that. Met a couple of people, who were so generous with their time and healing, that it really helped me.

On the other hand, barring the healing I had a good time, too. One has always had more male friends, I work with more men, teach more men, hang around them, sit like them and think a lot like them. They say, every man has a feminine side and each woman has a masculine side. Mere andar ek chichora 14 saal ka ladka he, jo kabhi bada nahi ho sakta aur mere andar ki aurat sou rahee he. One avoids drinking too much these days because one tends to get very emotional. Alcoholism in any case runs in the family and one’s emotionally fraught. But this was a ‘safe space’, so one drank and smoked, a bit, chilled out…met some people I absolutely adored, instinctively. I met someone, who reminded me of my Dad…totally bindaas, flirtatious and opinionated. A much older friend of mine, would very sweetly hold onto my hand, whenever I met him, at this bookstore and tell me how, men never really grow up. Then I saw men of all ages, under one roof and realised that neither they nor I will ever grow up!

The older women too, were precious. They were a bit concerned about my smoking, which I thought was really sweet….koi hakk jamata he tokne ka, to iss ka matlab he unko farak padta he aap ka. In an indifferent world, concern is a precious gift. I don’t smoke infront of my Dad, though he knows that I do…I didn’t want to infront of them, either. Some consider it hypocrisy, I don’t. A gentle soul also made me realize, how little I’ve been touched in the past year. I think the first night when we were talking, he just touched my arm, I kept backing off. I was so afraid, that if someone held onto me long enough, I would burst into tears.

By the end of the trip, people were sitting on my lap…forget touching, I was hugging. God, it’s been a while! But the real reason, I think God, made me go on this trip was because I needed to see mothers and daughters together and cry to sleep every night. I was supposed to get up each morning and somehow drag myself into a room full of people, when all I wanted to do was crawl under a freaking rock. I was supposed to bump into people who somehow knew my ex and have them discuss what went wrong with other people. The assumption being what went wrong was an older man! Wrong guess! I was supposed to realize that ‘if you found the perfect man and you fucked it up, you realize you’re just bad at relationships! So why waste anytime on them.’ As soon as I said that to a stranger, while we were trekking up to a waterfall, it occurred to me that, maybe I need imperfect and flawed like myself and not a nice, ideal man!

I realized I may know myself very well, in fact they say one’s- ‘too aware and forthcoming of one’s flaws’ but one’s not very accepting of them. I learnt that I got to stop apologising for my privileges. One can’t go through life, underplaying it to make other people comfortable or to feel safer, around them. I saw the best of human nature- besides the fun and frolic, kindness- people I barely spoke to through out the trip, looking out for me, as my blood pressure fluctuated and I felt sick on the bus and making sure I was well taken care off…making sure I wasn’t left behind. This trip, has kept my Dad on the edge. He’s seen me go through so many boys in my teenage years without blinking an eyelid, but after mum and last year’s disaster, he’s suddenly very worried, some man will entice me, into marriage as if I’m an eighteen year girl. Well, I prefer technology for now. Hassle free, no complications, good at getting the job done and someday, I’ll find my Mr Right, who will be a robot!

Since one has been absolutely unwilling to shoot, transforming Amma’s floor has been one’s favourite pastime. Now, that it’s almost done, will have to figure out another distraction.

So, I joined the herd and took a jab, totally unconvinced about the entire thing. Since I had Covid…my body was protecting me. But one needs the certificate, so here we are, doing something the body should have learnt to fight on it’s own.

Ranbhir Kapoor said on the Kapil Sharma show, ‘ there are no secrets. You will tell your best friend something and they too will confide in their best friend and so on and so forth. Ultimately everyone will know the secret!’ He didn’t mention that eventually someone will mention something to the person who is being spoken about, too.

Gossip is something one has been surrounded by as much as drama. After all, one had a rebel for a mother and one turned out to be a lot more rebellious than her. Nuttier and more experimental, too! There are no free rides darling, if you ain’t going to abide by the rules of the society you got to pay the price for it. If you are a woman that is. Not only will it have an ill effect on your personal life but apparently your ‘brand value’, as well.

If you have a third leg and money though, you could be a liar, thief, an adulterer, a stalker, a fifty year old man cheating on his wife with a twenty year old woman, a rapist, a tax evader, a sex addict, a woman basher, an alcoholic, you could be driving over people sleeping on the pavement, be a murderer, a prisoner and nothing will spoil that reputation and brand name of yours.

Gossip- not that one doesn’t indulge in it periodically but one has always used it as a means for testing people. Sometimes you got to play the fool, infront of the fools who think they are fooling you. I seem viscous. Oh I am! I keep to myself all the time but you know the sayings about snakes hold true for one.

Self deprecating, not at all! Just a little honest. In a world full of people who tend to make others hear their conversations, to prove their innocence, I’m just a person whose stubborn and has a little spine. It’s very interesting how information moves at the speed of light and people worry so much about having said what they have said. I say a lot of stuff but the only good thing about me is, I own my shit-my past, my mistakes, my words I take full onus of them. They’re on me. The only time I should be forgiven, is when I’m drunk because that stuff really doesn’t suit me and makes me truly sentimental. But otherwise, I don’t mindlessly, aimlessly…blabber. One does it consciously, knowing the repercussions of those words and how they will come back.

Why this extra gyaan? I’ve given so many people an occupation in the past year. First they gossip, then I retaliate…then they gossip some more, and then they drive themselves crazy…trying to figure out whose told me about their viscous words. My goodness, it carries on. So much of people’s time and effort is being wasted on someone as insignificant as myself. So, I thought, why not put the rumours to rest. First of all, no one has ‘told me’ anything in particular. If you spoke about me or if you gossip about anyone at all, infront of someone…you know in your heart, their spines and mouths are like yours otherwise you wouldn’t have done it. You will never bitch about a person infront of anyone who dotes on them. No one dares to do that. They do it knowing the recipient of that information is as receptive. If not they will instantly shut it down. ‘Anyone who helps you to gossip about someone can help someone to gossip about you’ said Israelmore Ayivor. So, the recipient of your mindless blabbers, have repeated your lovely words, not to me, like most people worry (since then oh my God, I might think so badly of them) but to lots of other people and words my dearies spread fast! So, spare them the interrogation and spare me the phone calls. Don’t worry, if you thought they were so loyal, you wouldn’t have called them in the first place and you’re absolutely right!

As for your real cause for concern? If you have such a low opinion of someone to think,’ they are starving their father’ ( yup! He looks it) or ‘not letting her father sell the house’ ( which is absurd, since that will instantly make me rich) or ‘creating communal disharmony’ ( you make the Islamophobic comments and I am creating a problem? Wow), I’m moving to Dubai (well that’s turned into I’m too rigid because everyone’s figured that ain’t happening) and similar bullshit I don’t want to repeat, then why worry about what such a horrible person thinks of you? If I thought these things about someone, God knows I would first give them a piece of my mind and then cut them off from my life, instantly! So, have some principle’s man! Straighten the spine, give me a piece of your mind. Stop calculating whether I’ll be useful to you in the future…go for it…hate me. But I suspect the inability to take a stand about anything, isn’t your only problem. People are also worried about what I’ll do with all the accumulated information I have about them. Well, my opinion of myself is so much more important than any vendetta towards, anyone! So, enjoy, your secrets are mine to keep.

Amma,

A picture of you and the love of your life, popped up on Facebook, on what would have been your 43 rd anniversary. The worst, the bad and the good! Kudos, to both of you. Inspite of all the dysfunctionality it was a relatively honest, relationship. I never gave it credit because I bought the facade that other people display to the world. Only to realize much later, that all relationships are full of all sorts of compromises and people have a dozen skeletons in the closet but they keep them, well hidden.

The other day, Dad’s friends came over and of course the discussion steered towards marriage. One propagated companionship as a worthy reason for lifelong imprisonment and the other very subtly tried to explain to me that ‘bringing someone to the house’ for either Dad or me, would be a dangerous idea. Don’t know about your husband but I really wonder, how people assume, that a lifelong commitment phobic, loner, who feels exhausted by other humans ( other than some of my male friends) can ‘bring’ someone into their space. Imagine me in one bedroom with a man…sends a freaking shiver down my spine. The rumour mills, keep churning because the house is falling apart so something or the other has to be repaired and each time that happens, the assumption is that I’m getting married. Chances are —-if there’s a wedding in this house, it’s going to be of the man who spent over four decades with someone, not the one who has never even survived four years, in a committed, you are mine and I am yours kind of relationship!

Though, I do think I should give some sort of a relationship or an ongoing hookup, a shot. I’m getting way too comfortable, by myself and the way I’m going, I’ll invariably become more antisocial, if that’s possible! The trust issues are of course, off the charts. But you know with all these voice recording applications, that have been used on me for the past year and half, where conversations have been recorded, cut short at crucial times, edited to make points, I really have a hard time trusting anyone at all! Also, insulting to my intelligence, which apparently I don’t have much off, but insulting to my ‘sharpness’ nevertheless!

One of my exes asked me a few months ago, how the boys scene is and I said, ‘ replaced you all, with technology but I do miss kissing, sometimes!’ I wasn’t trying to be cocky, it’s the truth but I have to wonder how viable it is to wait for robots, to spend your old age with. That’s my latest plan for companionship! Robot ain’t going to care about relatives, complications, friends, past, the two boys I can’t seem to get over and is probably going to be better than a man at everything! You think, having parents who weren’t hypocrites and having a grandfather who said, ‘the only men who don’t cheat are the ones who can’t’ ( which your sisters will deny since nobody told their children the truth, unlike you) or reading Osho at a young age, has warped me just a little, like men tell me all the time? I doubt it…I suspect, some of us are just born with a couple of loose screws. In my head I’m either Sunny Deol, singing ‘mujhko apni jaan se pyaari he apni aazadi’ or Amitabh Bachchan, wanting to get on a tempo with my brothers, and serenading a man with , ‘Jumma meri jaaneman!’. Haaye, Amma, when will I grow up and stop enjoying the chase? So freaking Alpha one is and to top it one wants a worthy ( Thomas Crown, haan?) companion or opponent! Most people tell me ‘oh, it’s not like that’ and ‘ marriage is about having someone’ and blah, blah ( basically a snooze fest) yet I find relationships are games, not necessarily mind games like chess but games nevertheless. You want to play, with someone who keeps you mentally and physically engaged. My overthinking brain that they want to tame with meds, could do with an engaging distraction but not with anyone cowardly! So, my new plan, is freaking fabulous, I’m telling you! Siyapa, hi khatam!