New Chapter Begins

I woke up the first morning in this new country and realized I did not have my usual microwave utensils – the ones that were my lifeline, actually. The ones I used the most in the kitchen. The ones I used to begin my day. And I panicked. Kitchen is an area I am usually clueless about. Unless it is the microwave and my favourite microwave equipment.

So here it was. My first moment of panic. The first time I felt lost in a new country, a new house. The first time I wanted to be back in my shabby rented Baroda house.

It’s been around 2 days in U S of A – my new base and though it felt like an illusion for some time, the cloud seems to be clearing now. While on the surface, I liked the new surroundings, the new way of living, a tiny voice prompted me from somewhere at different points of time, reminding me that everything is new. Different. Something I am not used to. Something not my own.

The first weekend here has been spent in getting up late, sleeping with no time in mind, eating with no time in mind and basically lazing around. The cold weather helps the cause. Though I would want to be on my feet all the time, working hard and keeping myself busy, I can’t help but go with the flow. Maybe I should just enjoy the ‘doing nothing’ part for some time (especially when At has liberally offered to treat me like a guest for a week). Is this what is called wedded bliss?

Wedded bliss began immediately after marriage. All I did was be a guest in different houses, get pampered, have money spent on and eat. A LOT. Women I know said I should enjoy this phase as it would never come back. Sometimes I did. Sometimes I just felt burdened.

There is anyway nothing much I can do right now, except tagging along and silently watching. With no phone of my own, no car, no familiarity with the house and city, no routine of my own, I feel handicapped. And helpless. Being dependant…. pricks. Although At is quite caring and understanding, I do not like this me.

At this point of time, I feel clueless – about what I am and what I will be. How things will move. If I could transform from a fierce, independent, fearless woman to a docile, submissive, confused one, I really don’t know what to expect from future.

So. What next?

I find blank pages magnetic. When I look at blank paper, either lying carelessly or stacked beautifully, I get a feeling they ar waiting to be written upon. Waiting to hear new stories, deepest thoughts and hidden fears. Waiting to provide solace or solutions.

In the chaos of last 10 days, a blank half torn notepad called me on. I have been tagging along with my in-laws (testing my patience and maturity) and that one look at the notepad let free a flow of clogged thoughts. When there is so much happening with you, you don’t know from where to begin because everything seems significant.

After crying from rooftops that I am not happy about the Big Change, I’d be a hypocrite to say that marriage isn’t that bad (so far, atleast) for many reasons. A great new family. A down to earth, understanding husband. Lot of pampering.

Since the wedding, I have only been driven around from restaurants to malls to clubs. I get to eat what I want. I get to decide where to go. Of course there are lots of inner battles to fight. But overall, a girl would give anything to be in my place today. In which house are you showered with sudden gifts every other day? In which house does one get to stay like a real guest – wake up late and eat an already made huge breakfast spread? Which MIL makes it clear to her sons that things will happen as per the new entrant as it is ‘her time’? Which man does all he can to keep his new wife out of all chaos and drama? Though the road seems to be a bit bumpy right now, I can see wide smooth road ahead. The journey is likely to be good.

The dread that I was harbouring before wedding dissolved quickly – even before the wedding day. And I started enjoying the wedding prep. The bride-to-be is enjoys the wedding preparations in a different way. She gets too much attention, pampering and is expected to do nothing but rest for the big day. So, that’s exactly what I did. I sat back, watched everyone working, having fun, chatting and meeting up with friends and relatives.

Getting emotional was not the solution at this stage. There were too many emotions – mine and others’ – to handle. Dealing with my own emotions isn’t difficult; its others’ that I can’t handle. Because I was too helpless here. I just decided to take care of my own and let others handle theirs.

When the moment finally came, when I had to go away, I was surprisingly cool. Cool to the extent of being emotionless. I dealt with the rituals, however ridiculous I found them to be, with discipline and seriousness. They had to be done. Part of the big game. The big story.

I had conditioned myself too much. I did not let homesickness come in. I didn’t notice my family wasn’t around me. I didn’t realize how much stress I was going through by patiently dealing with a new home full of strangers. Did I cry? Did I feel sad? No. How could I? There is so much to cope up with. There was no time for anything else.

I am stuck between 2 worlds. 2 lives. 2 chapters. I belonged to one but am expected to suddenly adopt the other – which I am diligently, speedily trying to do. I am dedicating myself too much to it, not thinking of anything else. But in the process, I belong to neither world.

Every day holds new discoveries – of the family’s dynamics. Of your own hidden fears and strengths. Of changes and realizations. Of the new family’s secrets, weaknesses and issues.

Looks like, for a long long time, I will be going on an unplanned adventure trip.

And, time’s up

Every morning I wake up and see my mother towering over my bed throwing questions – Have you selected the songs for Sangeet? Have you booked the parlour? Have you compiled the bangles? What about the song that you are going to sing? My father follows – You haven’t packed cards for your friends yet. You haven’t given me their travel schedule. And have you spoken to the event management guys?

I try to shake away the feeling of dread along with the duvet and spring up, ready for day’s action.

Whoever said the bride-to-be is pampered and expected to rest like a queen has been misleading unsuspecting girls to believing that their wedding is going to be a glamorous sort of an event. Because it is actually far from it.

Wedding preparations involve running from pillar to post getting dresses made, finalizing events, co-ordinating guests’ visits, distributing cards, fighting over little things and basically going crazy.

That’s how I am now – hyper, crazy, confused and lost.

Despite the wedding jitters and the whole walking into unknown thing, I mechanically throw myself into preparations. The past 10 days have been super-busy. I cleared my study table, set my laptop and phone on it and have been diligently working from 10 to 5. I have not had time to eat and chat with friends. Visiting saloons for beautification is out of question. (Now I know why brides manage to look beautiful. It’s just modern make-up deceiving eyes). I’d rather settle with a book and a blanket.

And there are those moments when there is no work to occupy my mind. That’s when uneasiness makes its smug entrance and decides to create some chaos. Since the last couple of days, I have barely been eating. 4 days, I counted, left for the wedding functions to begin. Of course, I try and put up the best show I can. After all, I am the bride-to-be. And a wedding is all about show.

When I was younger, I used to be in awe of brides and bride-to-be’s. I thought they were made of another material altogether. They always looked beautiful to me. And happy. And grown up and serene. I don’t feel any of it. I don’t even feel like a bride-to-be. I’d rather be an ordinary company employee that I used to be.

Tired of thinking and over-thinking, I just wait for nightfall so that I can go off to sleep and not think for a while. Little do I realize that as nights pass, days fly too.

Sunday Special–The Nineties

While the above will come across as out-dated and cheesy to most, I have lot of nostalgia attached to it. This represents the nineties era – the era I grew up in. And since I am so obsessed with movies and music, what reminds me of my childhood better than nineties Bollywood?!

I spent several lazy summers of Nineties crammed in the only air conditioned room of the house – living room – with my mother and baby sister, lying on the carpet watching Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander or 100 Days or the like; movies that the cable guy would play every afternoon. Movies that were full of gaudy maroon lipstick, puffy bold flower print skirts, voluminous coarse hair, shiny eye lids and rebellious love stories actually got me addicted and, worse, inspired. I wanted to be in the movie. I wanted to be like those actresses. I wanted my future life to be that movie.

I know. Childish fascinations.

I adored Madhuri dixit (still do) and after I stopped infatuating over Anil Kapoor, it was Salman Khan. I still adore him.

Nineties songs are peppy and melodious – very hummable and foot tapping. Every time I cannot decide what genre to listen to, I tune in to Nineties. If I start listing down my favourite music from that era, I would be writing for the next 3 months.

A slim Madhuri danced in heavy winds and dreamt of her Prince Charming in Humko aaj kal hai.

A snobbish Pooja Bhatt and sulky Aamir Khan fought over a watermelon and place to sleep while battling their inner desires in Dil hai ki maanta nahi.

A love struck Salman Khan tried to woo a haughty, purple sari-clad Madhuri in Didi tera dewar deewana.

A young SRK came as a knight in shining armour to save his damsel in distress in Tujhe dekha.

Battle of the sexes – Akshay Kumar and Deepak Tijori challenged Ayesha Jhulka and Sabeeha in Khud ko kya samajhti hai.

A goofy looking Ajay Devgan boldly announced (sang from rooftops, literally) his love for Madhoo, fearlessly, in Maine pyar tumhi se (a favourite Antakshari song).

Tu cheez badi hai mast mast was almost a National song for half a year.

There are endless Govinda-Raveena foot tapping numbers and Akshay-Raveena animated ones.

There are also touchy Phir Teri Kahani Yaad Aayi songs & lovable and memorable Dil Toh Pagal Hai ones.

Evergreen pairs: Salman Khan-Madhuri. Sridevi-Anil Kapoor. SRK-Kajol. Aamir Khan-Juhi Chawla. Govinda-Raveena. Akshay-Shilpa. It was never boring to watch them do the same antics again and again.

This era makes me smile. It is quite difficult to watch the movies today; cinema has surely moved on. Moreover, who can stand those gory outfits and make-up? Nevertheless, movies like DTPH, DHKMN, DDLJ and HAHK have the capability of warming our heart. They hold meaning. They are real, deep love stories – tragic or happy. There are real friendships, real family issues.

I am proud to say – I am a Nineties Gal!

A tribute to my favourite era. Some images that are imprinted on our minds permanently.

Every Day Is A Sunday

If you think you get less time because you work in Corporate and once you are free, you will have lots of time to do all the things you love, you are mistaken. Ever since I left my job, around 5 days ago, I have only been running around, completing pending tasks and basically trying to fit too many things in a day.

This is what happens when you have too much time.

If you really want to make the best use of it, actually.

I have been waiting for this phase – a break in Corporate life. Ever since I knew I would be jobless in some time, I knew I had to do something productive the whole day and not waste it watching movies or browsing internet. This is how I want to utilize this break.

We keep reading life and productivity blogs that say there are better things in life – those little things that need to be enjoyed, how we need to slow down, etc. I knew this was the right time to do all of that.

The day I arrived home, after leaving Baroda, I plunged into a schedule. I nose-dived into unpacking, disposing off things, and clearing up the whole mess along with blogging, reading and music. When I would take rest from dragging around cartons and cleaning cupboards, I think – I wasn’t this tired / busy when I was working!

So, I get up not later than 8:30 am (I know that’s not that early to boast of), start my day with yoga, eat breakfast that is just right for me (and not get carried away by all the love and pampering that my family is showering on me), read some blogs, do some cleaning, chat with Mum, experiment some microwave cooking in evening with Mum, write and fall asleep on time while reading a book.

Even then, I wish I had more time.

It is not difficult to be conquered by laziness. Why, most of our holidays have been spent in lounging on the couch in front of TV or chatting with friends or aimlessly browsing internet. But what do you do when your whole life becomes a ‘holiday’? What do you do when there is no company half-day-deduction rule that prevents you from getting up late? Or, when there are no deadlines and projects to rake your brains? Or, when there is no boss to chase you and you are left to be your own spoilt self?

This is when self-discipline and some bit of will come into picture.

In the past one month, I thought a lot about ways to ensure my brains don’t rust and I don’t start bloating.

And when I am not obsessing over being extra-productive and aspiring about making it big, I try to enjoy those much talked about little, joyful things in life – hitting the right note after experimenting with different kinds of coffee every day, calmly reading blogs and interacting with other bloggers, talking to atleast one friend every day, sharing moments of joy with all friends, loosening up with yoga, the feel and aroma of fruity lotions and perfumes, morning cool and dew, finding childhood relics in unexpected places.

I’m liking that every day is a Sunday for me.

                   

Indian Wedding Paradox

Elders in India feel most content when they see children around them getting married. Even if they aren’t their own. Everyone, from landlord to driver to relatives to neighbours to distant colleagues, is happy to know that I am getting married. The maid always gives me long, hopeful looks and waits for me to look at her and smile. I have become a kind of a specimen. Of course, they feel not too happy about me marrying so late but nevertheless. One more girl is ‘settling down’, domesticating; not ‘loitering around aimlessly’ but has found ‘direction in life’.

Every time someone congratulates me and tells me I am doing a good thing, I want to ask them – Well, you are married. You yourself should know how good it is.

Universally, or perhaps more so in India, marriage is undoubtedly a happy thing. By default. You can’t be unhappy by deciding to marry. And arranged is better. If a person goes in for an arranged married, they are ‘seedha’.

Marriage of their children is the ultimate feeling of satisfaction for parents. Most open-minded, modern families forget their modernism when it comes to marriage. The girl/boy has to be of their community. There must be no compromise in lain-dain. Oldest of customs and strangest of rituals have to be followed, come what may, even if they make no sense today and no one knows why they are being followed.

However talented and independent the girl is, her parents will be the first to compromise and bend. It’s their role, they believe. Who has bestowed them with this role? Somewhere someone in ancestral chain. Or some more customs, I suppose. Further, forgetting all talks of woman empowerment, feminism and modern society, they will teach their girl also to bend and compromise. It’s you who will have to keep quiet. It’s you who has to be patient. You have to cook; forget your travelling, friends and all. That era is over.

Many girls today go out of home for higher studies and then work. They live no differently than a male – they travel extensively, they handle responsibilities – their own and family’s, they multi-task and definitely do not need any male to help them. We can say that the line between males and females is disappearing in terms of strength, capabilities, approach and beliefs. Open-minded parents even support their girls and give them freedom / environment to become totally independent and self-sufficient. And yet when she is about to marry, they expect her to be docile, undemanding and compromising.

Indian weddings are more of show than reality. The dresses are according to what people would like to see. The decor is to impress guests. The gold is to be showed off. The gifts are to please the other side.

Contrary to what is shown in movies, where ladies peacefully play dhol, kids run around happily, the bride-to-be giggles endlessly and the house is adorned with flowers, this ‘shaadi ka ghar’ is full of stress and panic. Wedding cards are strewn all over the house. We keep packing them at regular intervals of the day and run around disbursing them. All my stuff that I brought along with me has taken over the whole first floor. It is difficult to walk in my room without treading over packages and boxes. We are constantly making lists, forever disappointed at lists not getting complete and perennially tired.

Everyone is just waiting for this to be done with.

And me?

Remember your first Board exams? How people grilled into you how critical Board is and what calamity would occur if you perform badly? Didn’t you want to puke or just dissolve in air?

Though I see faint light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel, the thought of wedding rituals and the whole rigmarole of guests, formalities and long days make my stomach churn with uneasiness. This is something I am not used to. Nor did I ever realize before that this grind would be so difficult to adapt.

I just wish Indian wedding procedures were simpler and less superficial.

A Sip Of Warmth

I’ve come to eat out alone after ages. I am at The Chocolate Room, waiting for my Dark Hot chocolate. I sat down and placed my order without looking at the menu.

After work today, I rushed to buy gifts for my Besties, got petrol and air filled, did some tailor work and then wondered what to do before my official farewell dinner scheduled at 8 pm. Should I go and finish the other tailor work, or complete some additional minor shopping or go to my cousin’s to kill time?

I was starving. Saturday traffic is at work, going crazy, on the roads. Chuck everything. The Chocolate Room was nearby. I rushed there and told the attendant in a resigned tone – Table for just one??

Sometimes, I just want to stop running. Yes, there is shopping to be done, things to be achieved, repair work to be done. You need to run against time, along with all the rushing people and get your work done. But for once, can I just stop and let everyone go ahead? Can I let my dreams wait?

I had my last day at work today. Was I sad? Was I relieved? Cannot pinpoint. I went through a mixture of feelings every nano-second.

Anger for my settled life getting disturbed.

Helplessness for getting flown with the current.

Panic for walking into unknown. For throwing away the good life I had in my hand.

Relief for being relieved of one big responsibility – job.

Bemused at not being able to judge whether all that is happening with me is good or bad.

Excited about a new life.

Hope of accomplishing my dreams; doing things I love; making new friends.

In the end, I felt nothing. Nothing.

When I said my Goodbyes and left from work, I was blank.

I still don’t feel I am no longer a part of this entity; this team. They have surrounded me since the last 3 years. My colleagues filled my days. Suddenly, there will be no one. A void is threatening to loom in front of me soon but I have turned my eyes away from it. I am acting like there is no void. And I will ignore it till it screams in front of me and finally wins my attention.

Ah. My Dark Hot Chocolate has arrived. The velvety dark brown froth, like warm brown eyes, is inviting me; asking me if I would like to be transported to heaven.

Care for what I said?

Only Time Will Tell…

I looked at the time on my cell phone. The date turned 1 Nov the moment I lit it. 00:00 was the time displayed. I had been trying to sleep since 45 minutes. Sleep has eluded me since the last few days. No use. I got up and switched on my laptop.

I still can’t believe it’s time for me to move out. I have been taking my own time in making a packing and shifting plan. I hadn’t thought about it or planned it. Only when my landlords begged and cajoled me to pre-pone my moving out, because they committed someone else to come in, was I jolted out of my false perception of reality. Enough of running away, it is time to get moving.

Someone needed to pinch me. To wake me up.

I have been living between tailors and jewellery stores since the last 2 weeks. Last minute repairs and alterations are being done with the instruction ‘I do not have time. Give me back in 3 days’ time as I am moving out of Baroda’.

Really? I am?

I haven’t met people properly! I haven’t revisited all my favourite food joints! I haven’t bought all the things I wanted to for my future life! I see all those ‘plans’ slipping out of my hands. I see time slipping out of my hands. I am just running.

Cool down. There IS still time. Things can be managed. No hell is breaking loose.

The other day, an unsettling talk with my fiancé shook me up a bit. I spoke about how difficult it is for me to uproot my happily settled life (and some other embarrassing crap that I do not want to remember now). It was 11 pm after the call. I don’t know what pulled me towards my car then; and I went for a drive along my favourite roads. I just picked up my car keys and left – without my cellphone, licence or wallet. I went along R C Dutt Road and Race Course Circle. The watchmen looked at me curiously – they always do. They always stare at this single girl who fights like a tigress all the time, acts as snobbish as a queen and often dresses up in tiny clothes. But this was heights (for them, I am sure) – going out alone at 11 pm! What kind of a girl does that?

I wanted to embrace the city that has given me so much. I wanted to talk to it. I wanted to let the silence between us be the last conversation. In all the running around, finishing pending work and completing wedding preparation rituals, this stolen moment wouldn’t come back.

Sometime, I feel slightly warmed up about the approaching new life. There are so many good things that are waiting for me. An opportunity to pursue my hobbies, the much wanted break from Corporate life, life abroad, lots of time to read, blog and write (and an understanding life-partner who is bearing the brunt of my unstable, fanatical state).

I still am not convinced that the big shift is worth it; I am not sure. I am giving up a good life for something better? Something similar? Something difficult?

Only time will tell.

Early Sunsets

Evenings are cold these days. There is a sting in the air. The sun sets earlier than usual. Festive mood is all around – shops lighted, malls glittering more than usual. And yet, my heart feels heavy every evening. For no reason. Or maybe, for many.

As my last day in Baroda nears, I find myself being more committed to work, quieter and steadier. But the moment I am out of workplace, on my own, my heart sinks. That is how I am finding myself more and more these days – alone in the crowd. That is how, I tell myself repeatedly, I am going to be soon – alone among strangers.

I had been behaving like an ostrich – I closed my eyes to the reality, avoided thinking about the big shift and assumed everything was fine. That I was happy. I hid between Navratri lights. I stuck with people, known and unknown, wanting to get lost among them. I wanted to drift. In my last week here, I cannot be the ostrich anymore. I have to open my eyes and see. And act. I have begun packing up. I am busy scheduling farewell dinners and lunches. Farewell. That word should hit me hard. But somehow, it just makes no meaning to me.

In the past 2 weeks, I have run from tailor to tailor getting outfits ready. I have been begging and pestering them to give me my stuff on time, despite Diwali interfering. I have been dragged to bridal wear showrooms and asked to try the heaviest of costumes. The stone encrusted outfits gave me cuts, the heavy lehengas refused to stay up on me but me, the bride-to-be, has to be the shiniest and the brightest for people want to see a beautiful, glowing bride (no one really cares about the glow within her). No effort has been spared to spend lavishly on me.

The glitter of saris and kundan crusted lehengas often lightens my heart and I get carried away. Temporarily. Later on, the heaviness returns. What is happening? What am I doing? What is it going to be?

I am just swimming with the unruly waves, floating to an unknown destination. Some people say they enjoy the uncertainty. They let new things come to them and they tend to enjoy them. I am never happy with uncertainty. I want to decide and know everything that happens with me. I want to write down my future. In absence of that I feel like I have lost control over my own life.

Am I being melodramatic? Am I dragging it a bit too much? Am I over-thinking?

If I didn’t have poetic thoughts swimming in my mind, I would never have been a writer. If I didn’t have so many thoughts, I would never have started a blog.

The Mahabharata Bug

It all started with Palace of Illusions. Even without having any knowledge about Mahabharata or the inclination to gain it, I wanted to read this book since 6 months. I finally bought it, started reading it and am hooked on to it. Palace of Illusions in your mythological chick-lit. I am lost in Draupadi’s world. I feel myself beside her. I can see what she is going through at different stages of her life; I can feel it, empathize with her and sometimes, want to wring her neck for being silly or impulsive. When I’m not reading the book, I think about her and want to go back to her soon.

Her secret love for Karna – oh so painful, so full of longing! There is nothing more heart-rending than unfulfilled love. My heart sinks every time Karna’s name pops up in the book. I am shattered when Karna gives a cold shoulder to Draupadi, leaving her to handle her aching heart. And am shattered yet again when Draupadi is bound by her duties, unable to speak her heart out to him. My heart does a little somersault when he praises Draupadi quietly in front of Bhanumati. Draupadi’s anguish, her social shackles are upsetting to an emotional, involved reader like me.

Karna. Loyal, generous, principled, dependable, resilient. The tragic hero. The cursed warrior. Who would not fall in love with him? Isn’t he the kind every girl desires? Draupadi falling in love with him is no surprise. Ignored and unwanted by her father, having to sustain loyalty towards her insensitive, vain and cowardly husbands and ultimately being gambled away by them made her no less a tragedy queen. No wonder, she shared an invisible bond with Karna and was drawn to ‘those sad eyes’ again and again.

I read and re-read the portion where Karna reveals his love for Draupadi to Bheeshma while Draupadi secretly overhears the whole conversation. I can feel what she would have felt at that time – elated, relieved yet imprisoned and helpless.

Of course, there is no secret love between the 2 in the original story. This is just a brilliant imaginative piece by the author, Chitra Divakaruni.

But it was this book that got me intrigued about Mahabharata. I wanted to know more about the complex story. The infection spread to my colleagues too. And soon, we were watching B R Chopra’s Mahabharata Katha again, after 23 years of its first viewing, and discussingit. Lunch breaks and morning greetings revolve around this great epic that used to be a significant event of Sundays some 23 years back for all Indian households. Every day, we look forward to updating each other on last evening’s findings about the epic’s many curious elements.

This mythological classic is not only complex but also racy, what with its multiple wives, secret affairs, illegitimate children and scandalous boons. Looks like they had more fun in historic times than in today’s modern commercial time.

As a child, I believed in magic. I believed in gnomes, fairies, pixies, flying carpets and spells. Reading Mahabharata now, at this age, is equally fascinating for me. It is magical because of curses and boons, enchanted palaces, unbelievable history, Gods and Goddesses, mysterious creatures and charmed weapons.

I never knew one day I would be so interested in mythology. I had always related mythology to religion. How was I to know mythology can be magical and often, spicy??