My Instagrammable Life (Not)

It's not much of a secret to begin with but I would like to think it's not that bad... My life...clearly is not instagrammable at all. As in yes I do go out and I do eat good food, I meet friends and I have fun with them (quite often) but it just seems like everyone is living a much better life on instagram. I can never do and have never done candid photos of me and G lovingly looking at each other . Clearly all anyone ever does is THAT.

I can't take good pictures of food and post them online, I keep forgetting. When there's a hot plate of yummy food in front of me I wouldn't want to disrespect it by wasting time clicking pictures of it, getting the angle and the lighting and the zoom right. No. That's the thing about food. It demands to be eaten. (I went there)

Vacations. When I was touring around in Europe like there was no tomorrow I didn't have an Instagram account. I didn't have a smartphone and I didn't go around flashing my touristy life at everyone. At that point I was naive enough to think that it is wrong to do so and that doing so would take the pleasure away from the travelling. NOW I wish I could redo all that. I wish I was touring around right now.

There is no point to this rant.

I wonder if it's a good idea to just withdraw from all social media. I wonder if I'm capable of doing that. Just withdraw from social media, just stay away and be distant, not care about any one else's life. I don't know if that makes me a better person but it definitely makes me happier when I don't have to feel guilty about feeling jealous about someone's picture perfect life. 

Notice : Coming Back Home

Hey!

So if you scroll down a little you will notice that I have published some posts I wrote in the past now all of a sudden and all in one day. So that's because I've decided to move back to blogger for my personal blog and keep the one on  wordpress for professional stuff. Yeah so in a way I'm coming back home. Here's hoping I would be able to blog more from now. :*

Pillows

Again, do not remember when the hell I wrote it. Definitely while I wasstudying at Ethiraj. What a drama queen I was.

Ever since I felt the first few instances what I would now like to call ‘affection’ for some person, from the beginning of adolescence until this day, for reasons that I have managed to blur after a lot of effort, I have always silently cried under the sheets, so as to not wake the sleeping family. I have always cupped my hands over my mouth to muffle deep sobs, I have always let my pillows dry streams and streams of warm tears. While in bed in the dark it is always easy and comfortable to let my thoughts wander every place they refused to go during the day, afraid that my face might betray me to those ones who seem to so easily read it. I dont know why I thought meeting One person could change that for me. Maybe it is too much to hope for from a soul other than mine. Maybe it all has to happen from the inside.

Block

Don't know when I wrote this. Can't remember the last time I did. But this still is true.

It’s a scary thing, realising you haven’t written in a long time. It’s  even scarier when you sit with your dashboard open and nothing comes to you. What if you can’t do it any more?  Why has it happened to you? Do you recognise yourself? Where is that voice in  your head that told you what to do? Have you killed it with your indifference? What are you doing wrong? Something so natural something so easy, now seems like a huge burden to lift. Has all your time run out? You’ve killed that voice in your head. You let it starve so long, you ignored it. You’ve killed it. Now your head is empty, like everyone else’s. Now you will feel sadness, like everyone else, now you will be plain like everyone else. You’ve lost your gift.

Did you have it at all?  Or was it an illusion? If it was a part of you why did it leave?

There was once a song bird, who sang such soulful songs. Such beautiful music, it made the grass weep. The soul in her music gave her the strength to be. The soul of her music made her believe. A song that’s soulful is the song that’s sad , they say. And the song bird was of course sad. She pined for the rose deeply. The bird’s longing became the soul of her music. The rose did bloom near the bird one day and her happiness knew no bounds. But she loved the rose so much she forgot to sing. 

I'm getting married

Written on 16th Feb 2016

.. on June 16th. In Chennai. At Vadapalani. Please come.

Plungers

Written on the 19th of October 2015

What happens when something is blocked? You use a plunger. You take a plunge? A different kind of plunge, yes.

What brings the block? The answer is manifold.

Tell me if you have had this happen to you. Have you ever hummed your favourite tune carelessly with the wind in your hair at the beach watching the waves with the sun on your back? In those quiet moments when you are all alone with your thoughts have you had someone over hear you? And then have you had this person walk up to you and be genuinely surprised at your ability to sing? Then the inevitable 'Hey, that's cool can you do that again?" happens. And then for some reason, when you do try to reluctantly humm the same tune again your voice sounds terrible, and you've suddenly lost the carefree feeling. Now this person thinks you're a faker, that you're seeking attention. And they walk away. The moment is gone.

It is a lot like when you're in a really quiet public toilet and there is a huge queue of women waiting outside the door. You're sitting there wondering if the other ladies can hear you ... "flow". Can they judge how much liquid you've consumed by how long the trickle lasts? Do they think it is un ladylike? And then all of a sudden you can't pee.

We don't know why these blocks happen. We don't know when they'll break or what will cause them to break. All that we do know is... that when it does eventually break it's going to be a long day.

#Smiley

The day I told mum and dad

Written on the 16th of March 2015

I finally told mum and dad about Gokul. After weeks of agonising over how I would tell them and where I would tell them and what the exact words would be and what my tone of voice should be...

I plucked up some courage and I told them. And yesterday was the day I realised how much I underestimated mum and dad. They patiently listened to everything I had to say. They asked the right questions. No noise, no drama,  just intent looks and meaningful glances. I didn't feel like they despised me after I told them.

My dad said after silently listening to me, I need time to think about this. Fair enough. The conversation was over in about fifteen minutes? Maybe even less but I felt like everything around me and inside me was in slow motion. My voice kept breaking. For some reason. My eyes welled up.  And I went on and on about him. My heartbeat felt like those boom speakers you find at rock concerts, LOUD and CLEAR. I had difficulty breathing.

We were at the beach, around 7 :30 pm. No sunlight. It was quite dark. The floodlight was on. I couldn't see dad's face all that clearly, he was facing the sea. But I know the lights hit my face and I knew he could see me and my reactions clearly. Dad was looking at me all the time I spoke about Gokul.

How do moms do this? Mom essentially said, oh tell me something I don't know. She knew about this all along and see had waited for me to tell her. But then again I really shouldn't be surprised. She has always known what's on my mind without me having to open my mouth.

She said she likes Gokul because he's a nice boy. She said she'll talk to dad. But she said she wanted time to talk to God first.

After this we all got up and left the beach to have dinner outside. Like any other normal day. It felt so surreal. Now I'm ashamed of myself and my paranoia. Why did I even think they were going to hate me? How stupid. They won't hate me. Like mum said, they're my parents, and when I want something (or someone) I'm going to have to ask them to get it for me. Just like I did now. They know that I'm sensible and they will think this through. And they will see for themselves how Gokul is an amazing boy. They will love him once they get to know him. And they will like aunty and uncle once they meet them. And we will all live happily ever after.

Almost

Published on the 14th of March 2015

I almost told mom today. I kept asking her to go to the beach with me. But she wouldn't. It's almost like she didn't want me to tell her yet. Must tell her soon.

Grip

Date of publication not known.

I have nowhere to go hide from myself. I don't even have a self Anymore. I've thrown it all away and sometimes I'm just a shell. A mad shell. A mad shell  that likes to lie near the sea and drown in the crazy sounds that emanate from the shallow waves and echo through its being. A parasite, that clings endlessly. A tendril that chokes. A closed dead fist. 

Drip

Written on the 6th of February 2015.

Sometimes in the middle of the night
Your face leaks for no reason.
It keeps leaking for no reason.
Self doubt
No reason.
Ignored affections
No reason.
Regrets
No reason.
Loss of love
No reason.
Shame
No reason.
Fear
No reason.
No reason.
Why are you making a big deal out of this?
No reason.
You're over reacting
No reason.

The day the leaking stops,
Will be the day.

Page 12 When Gokul's Mom Knew

Written on 12th January 2015

I was sick the past few days. I'm sorry you haven't heard from me.

So as of today, gokul's mom officially knows about the both of us. This marks the beginning of a lot of things. For the both of us, as a couple, this is the point of no return. There is no looking back after this.

For him individually, this means a lot of things. This means opening up to his parents like never before. Being accountable for the things he has done till now and the things he will do from now on.

Poor thing did not want this on his back right now and yet... He is going to have to put up with this.

For me, this is the part that flips the switch of life. I feel like I don't have too much time to be the good daughter. My time is up, I  must now blow my cover and show my parents, maybe even everyone else, my real side. Isn't that the thing I dread the most. I need to be able to take off the good girl mask. The mask is no longer a prop, I feel like the mask is me. I wouldn't know what to do without it.

This also marks the end of the I don't give a damn period in my life. Time to get up, dust off the laziness, be a bride, be a grown up and not have fun anymore.
Time to be boring and old. Time to grow up.

What will I even do without my mum. She is going to hate me. Her trust in me is going to crumble. I love being here kid. She takes such good care of me, I'm going to have to leave all that behind. I won't be anyone's kid anymore. I'm won't be the first thing my dad sees in the morning. Everything changes.

Page 3 of 365

Written on 3rd January 2015

Why do people hate Taylor Swift? She makes decent songs! She doesn't even have to be your guilty pleasure, she's actually good.

Today I went clothes shopping with UK and mum. I just accompanied her. Max is boring. So I headed over to ALL or A Little Larger the plus sized store.

God I must have seemed like such a sob story. Walking in there looking like I did, and trying on clothes by myself.

Anyway I tried some stuff and I felt horrible. They had three dresses, I looked like a barrel in them. It was obvious that these things were made for slender people. Stretching these things only produces bad results. Think pixellated stock photos.

We had sizzlers at kobe. Mine wasn't as good as the last time. But UK, mum and I had a great time solving their word search searches. It made me wish we were the kind of family that sat down to a nice board game after supper.

I remember how mum would draw out a game of dhaayam on the other side of a page from the calendar and stick it on my writing pad. We used to play, mum and a cousin and I. I was a sore loser. I made a huge scene once because I thought they all cheated cos I had lost four times in a row.

Life.

Page 2 of 365

Written on 2nd January 2015

Today is the day I admitted to myself that I have a substance abuse problem. And what exactly is this substance? It is called Pani Puri. No I am not being hard on myself. It is true that sometimes, to say no to the craving, I go I this no chaat food cycle. I will spare you the gory details but I will have you know that it is not a task for the weak hearted. Anyway, I go on these cycles where I avoid even talking about a particular food item (mostly junk food) for a month. I was one such cycle sometime back.

And it was difficult. How can you even walk 500 metres in this wonderful city, without spotting a north Indian looking tween standing next to a basket brimming with puris, and a big clay pot covered with red cloth.

My daily walk home from the bus stand was... Harrowing. If you know anything about taking a bus in Chennai, you know the kind of physical and mental preparation it takes to get out of a bus when it isn't at the final stop. Yes? Now add to that, some fatigue, some irritation due to co passengers et cie, some self criticism and general questioning of all my life choices that have lead to this instant where I'm damned to bus hell.

The mind plays it's tricks on you. Come on, you walked all the way to the bus stand! Of course you burnt all those calories. Just have one plate. Ignoring that piece of hell puts anyone's patience to test.

I clench my teeth and walk past. I look to the mushrooms mum bought last evening for hope. Maybe she would have made some nice curry? I tread on.

This was me for a month. Every week day. That is thirty minus eight.

All these days I told myself, 'yeah but that's just how detox feels'. After the cycle, as one can divine, I recommenced eating those little dough marbles normally. Keep in mind, our definitions of what is normal may differ slightly.

Last day of the year 2014, I decided to make pani puris for a little soirée we were supposed to have. It didn't come through so I made them today.

So uh yeah I ate the entire packet. I'd made enough potato filling. Enough pani. And I ate almost all the puris in that packet. No, I didn't count. Yes I had some mix match stuff to go with it as well.

But yet... Eating the last puri made me sad.

Thasright. It made me sad. And it finally struck me why going to the gym will never work for me.

It just never will.

Page 1 of 365

This pose was written on the 1st of January 2015

Today has been quite an okay day... A few hiccups in the morning about going to periamma's house but that's about it... First day of January 2015. I think it is up to me better myself a little bit. Maybe I'll try this year. I've told myself I will.

What are the things I want to do this year. How are they going to help me in the long run. Does this work this way?

I know I scoffed at making a list last year because the one I made the year before didn't really work. But I had something to work towards to. Something I kept coming back to once in a while to remind myself. I've decided to make one this year. We'll see how it goes.

Drive independently. 
Start the house fund. (repeat RD)
Keeping the house clean and neat. (clean up time to time) 
Eat responsibly. 
Prepare c1 and give the exam. 
Get mentally ready for M. Phil. 
Read a book a month. (and post review here) 
Don't judge. 
Stand up for yourself.
Write more. 
Learn about taxes. Figure it out clearly. 
Write at least one research paper and get published. 
Be more sensible with G, U, M & D. 
Learn to cook. 
Become mom material. (It is extremely important to be a good mom. Start now.) cook well, bake, clean, be responsible and mature...

Do not show this to anyone until at least two of these things can be struck off.

If not you, who? If not now, when?

Page 1 of 365

Dear 15 year old me

Dear 15 year old me,

It gets better. Orkut is not as cute as you think it is. Showing someone your middle finger is not cute, it means something you have no idea about, yet. Be more loving to uk. Take care of dad some more. Don’t worry about failing maths. It doesn’t matter at all. It doesn’t make you an Idiot. Be adamant and get someone to gift you the Potter books. Take up that Comp kids scholarship and learn about computers. Boys aren’t creepy. Don’t be too naive. Don’t rush in to things. Think twice before you say yes. It’s okay to lose dramatics, it matters that you wrote your own play. That’s the coolest thing! Don’t worry about your boobs. You’ll find someone who likes you for other things.

Having a crush on Shyamala miss doesn’t make you a lesbian. Love is a beautiful thing, be patient. I love you.

Love,

ME