Tag Archives: Happiness

The friend that I have

I have a friend, we have been friends for a very long time. We started off as people who didn’t like each other, became best friends, had the ‘infamous’ fallout in 8th grade ( right out of a book,eh? ) , the drama, the tantrums, the fights and then we grew up ( I, a little and she a LOT ) and now we are friends. Friends is maybe a term too mild to construe what we have, but I’ll go with it for the time being.

We are very different, poles apart some may say. Born on the same day  ( Alas! different months) our set of principles is almost opposite to each others’. She sleeps early and is up early and I’m up all night and I sleep in all day. She is super skinny, I have them thunder thighs She is hardworking and does everything on time, I procrastinate till the eleventh hour and then hurry through. She knows it all- the people, the things, the places; I’m clueless about everything, even the time when I’m wearing a watch. She is really smart, and even more hardworking. I’m smart, but then I’m a lazy ass. She knows what she wants, I know what I don’t want. She is selfless, and I’m selfish and self centered (and horribly so! ) She doesn’t drink, smoke and I drink like it’s my birthright and smoke (occasionally! ) despite my asthma. She can speak in front of people, she is a leader through and through; I lead too but I can’t speak in front of people, I do the work backstage, the invisible but can’t-do-away-with help. She loves kids and wants to go to other third world countries and do things for them, ( I wanted to do that ) but I’d rather travel the world, Forget about the real-issues and just meet new people or make six babies 😛

She wakes me up on weekdays, because she is up and she can’t let me sleep; despite knowing I’ll go back to sleep the moment I hang up. She wakes me up, after she has been to her classes and comes home just to come with me to the doctor because I’m a “fart” and generally by the time I wake up, the doctor is long gone. I make breakfast for her, when it’s time for lunch and she spends 4 hours cleaning my disgusting cupboard, begging me to throw my old clothes ( which have a lot of sentimental value, in my defense) out, to make space for new ones! She buys birthday gifts for me months before my birthday, scolds me when I don’t study before “the most crucial exams of my life”, has faith in me when I don’t, makes me smile when things seemed to have come to a halt, stayed up with me the whole night during my eleventh grade finals because my boyfriend broke up with me, buys food for me when I’m upset, brings me coke and chicken because I’m hungry, fights for me, fights with me. She is the only one I’ll tell how could or bad my sex life is. She takes me to the dentist when I break my teeth, slipping on the bathroom floor when drunk.

She doesn’t judge me, neither does she lie. She knows everything. She knows everyone. I called her up the moment he left the room, She knows that I don’t believe in marriage or relationships, she has a beautiful relationship with the wonderful guy and their relationship is the only one I believe in. She wants a wedding, wants to get married one day and have a family. I don’t want to get married or stay in a place for too long. She saves me from self-destruction. I destroy everything- intentionally or unintentionally, she saves me from it. She brings out the good in me, She lets me dream, she lets me sleep in, she lets me be. she forgives my wrongs, or rights them. She listens to me, unlike the world who are waiting for their turn to speak. I’m careless, she picks up the little pieces I lose on the way and puts them back. She is honest, she is real, she is scary ( sometimes). She makes me question things I take for granted. She forces me to do things which I don’t want to, but end up relishing. She is funny, smart and always there. she is one of the bravest people I know. She is the person I call when I’m drunk, despite knowing that she’ll kill me the next morning.

A few days back I had the worst asthma attack in the history of bad ones, I had a silent chest and was unconscious. I thought I was dead, It was quiet and I couldn’t move or feel anything around me. She was one of the people I saw, I thought of in that state. I saw her there, smiling at me in her lace dress and I though I was dead. One of things that I learnt that night was that come what may I need her there.She sends me cryptic messages, we are weird together. We talk about things which you wouldn’t talk about with another person because it’s weird. She is my friend. My confidant.I don’t tell people everything, I’ve too many secrets. She and himself come to closest to the person I’m under the facade I put up everyday. Himself ignores that person and she embraces it. She comes home, just to say hi to me and give me a hug and then goes her way and I look for coke for her, when all the shops are shut down in the city, and end up buying 7up ( which I like!). We are like Grey and Yang from grey’s anatomy! Even though I hate meredith, I’m weirdly like her ( she likes grey) and She is a lot like yang ( though not as cold, she is much nicer and I think yang is kick-ass, and she doesn’t like yang). We are dark, twisted, weird and messed up. Dreamy and the dreamers.

When I grow old, and if I settle down she’ll be the one spoiling my kids, while I’ll be the one taking her kids out for their first beer and their first rock concerts ( she feels claustrophobic!) While I grow up, smoke up, waste my time, mess around, sleep with people, act like a bum; she’ll be the ideal daughter, doing the right thing the right way. She has to balance things out, right? My ma has hooked faith in her. I have immovable belief in her.

She likes coke, I like sprite. She sounds really polished and grown up, I sound like a 2nd grade Delhite, She reads I read. She writes when she’s sad, I write no matter what. She makes me happy, she lets me dream, she is my saving grace, my yang. She builds, I break. I leave, she stays. She laughs, I smile. She cries, I fight. When my mood swings, she is the reason I’m sane again. I can never thank god enough for her, I can never thank her enough for the person she is because despite my infinite flaws, and issues she doesn’t go, she doesn’t give up. I love her, I love her so fiercely that it scares me sometimes. We can survive without each other, we have our best friends and our lives, but for me everything else falls into the background when we are together.

Himself might be the love of my life, but she is my soul mate.

I love you , to the stars and back. 🙂

 

Leaving is Liberating.

I wrote about the need to leave, A few posts ago. I’d like to elaborate on it.

To leave is pleasure. It’s the journey till the point right before you leave, which is hard. All the planning, the deciding, the choices that you make That is nerve wracking. No one is resistant, no one is is immune to that feeling of nostalgia, and that fear of starting afresh. It’s scary starting anew, It’s intimidating each time but that’s the thrill, you can break free of all the ties, you can break out the walls that have held you captive for so long, you can dream again, dream new, dream upside down, dream monochrome or in technicolor.

You are never one person, you are different persons in different places,at various stages of the clock. You are everything to someone one day, invisible the next. You are everyone and the next minute you are a another bystander glancing their way; someone they’ve never seen before,  someone they are curious to know. Once the curiosity dies, your collective importance begins to diminish, opinions are fixed, the excitement is over, adrenaline is replaced by estrogen, feelings come into play. Yes, I know curiosity killed the cat but it also gave way to the workings of science.

Leaving is a science, an art. Only the toughest can leave, or the weakest. Nothing in the middle ever can. Leaving isn’t moderate, it isn’t neutral, it’s not the safe path, nor the right thing to do. It’s extreme  impulsive, stupid at times. It’s for the downtrodden and the dreamers, It’s for the young or the very old. Leaving is liberating in more ways than one. But those who leave can never stay too long especially with those who stay because either can’t survive with another. The difference is magnetic, it’s compelling, it binds them together but the gap is too much to cover. In the bargain one spirit shatters and the other hardens and neither is in a better place than the other.

To leave is for you and you alone, It’s not a choice but need, Home isn’t a house, it’s hearth, it’s where your head is at the moment. A distant city can be home to me, even when I’ve never been in it’s 100 mile radius.

To travel and to leave are two different things. Don’t confuse them. To travel is to see the world and come back home, and to leave is to leave a home and make another one wherever you go. They don’t know what it’s like to seek comfort in others, in things unknown, in people alien, in cities new and terrifying.. It’s the adrenaline, the fear, the high.

To leave is to be free.

and I leave, every now and then. I’m free. I’m happy.

The smirk of the ocean

“what is it about her?” they wondered, Why is she so nonchalant, so endearing. While some were busy spending days thinking about her, She was lost in a dream. dreamers hardly resurface, and she being the queen of dreamers, she almost never did.

With her concoctions brighter than sunlight and her smile crooked-er than the lonely elm , she stood at a distance, under the sunlight, and yet away from  it. It was almost as if the big yellow ball in the sky reflected her light and fought for attention as she brushed him away. As she bent to ease the itch on her calf, she stopped, bent and picked up a pebble and held it against the sun. The pebble rolled down her pocket, she looked at the masses that surrounded her. Some looked away, pretending not to be looking at her, Some smiled and acknowledged her existence; She gave them her crooked, aloof smile; unaware of how magnificently enigmatic that slight smirk was. As her eyes Looked through the crowd,searched for someone, someone who couldn’t be found. The frown lines appeared, her fingers deflected back to the stone as she, felt it against her palm. Cool, stable and constant, She walked towards her group of people,’ her people’ as she called them.

Exchange of pleasantries, a few hugs and smiles but her eyes remained transfixed on one face. The crooked grin finally reached her eyes, It was as though she’d found her pebble again.  The sun shone brighter than ever, she the ever-calm, was fidgety. You could see her struggle and try, she looked almost unsure, almost like us mortals.

It was himself, he made her feel this way. Unsure and insecure, while himself stood tall and confident, she hovered, trying to appear nonchalant, the dreamer had died, and there stood the awkward, frantic, needy being.

She was someone who could disappear in a crowd, never to be found; she could hide in an empty room; she could have all the attention with the blink of an eye and shrug it away with the flick of a finger; she chose to disappear generally. She liked to vanish from the face of earth, and reappear like a magic-act. She was like the ocean, always there but taken for granted, moody and unpredictable; she changed colours like the sea under the sun.

But right now, she struggled. She struggled to stay afloat in her very own ocean, as himself looked through her.