Monthly Archives: February 2013

One great love

I am thinking about love right now. About passion, about kisses, about nicknames and cuddling. I am thinking about being in love. I am just thinking of it because it is almost spring and I hope the weather would change and there would a new light of something. Something fresh, something better, something beautiful. I am waiting, still waiting. As always. 

“We may only have tonight, 

Till the morning sun would rise, 

So let’s sing to the rhythm of love”

I was listening to this song and started thinking about one great love and how great loves are usually tragic. Every woman/girl has seen a quote saying, “There’s always that one person you will never completely get over”. What does that mean really? I can’t help wondering that what is the idea behind great love. How do you categorize as that being the great one and the rest normal? Moreover if there is a concept of great love, is there a concept of mundane or normal love? 

Okay, maybe my questions are very Carrie Bradshaw. I think that might have happened due to excessive watching of Sex and the City but really what I am trying to figure out here is, how people get over or claim to never get over. I think the hardest part of unrequited love is getting over it. It hurts and pains. It has all the stages of grief: denial, bargain, anger, depression, and acceptance. Every person you love or hope to spend your life with, when he/she is gone it hurts. It kills you. In some cases, you think about the happy times and smile. In some other cases, you block off the person completely and when visited by the idea of that person you push it away. So like i was saying. I have never been in love. I have though been in unrequited love. I am not a very agreeable person or a lovable person. Or that’s what I am guessing. 

I might like solitude. Who knows these things. All i am saying is, to me every time I had to get over someone it was painful. I can’t say any of them were my great loves (other than the current one) cos I got over them. But why do you need to be in love with someone forever for it to be great? The idea of great love is one that can give, submits and engulfs you completely. Something that takes every last strength in you and turns it into something powerful. The concept of great love should be completely accepting love. The love that would change you so much that you become a different person. A love that would teach and heal and would be complete on its own. Not an obsession but a relief. 

I have been in love thrice. I have gotten over two of them. One, I am still trying (fingers crossed). I think they were all of my great loves. I think if I love someone like I loved when I was 16, was great because it taught me to become something much better than I thought I could be. They all have evolved me, helped me, ruined me. I have been so so hurt but I will never say any of them meant any less to me. I don’t think there is one great love because I think you define the greatness of love. Only you can decide how many of your loves were great. I think for me, the n number I might get my heartbroken they would all be worth it. Because I do think, love is worth it. 


The ending (part 1)

I looked at him across the dance floor. He was holding a glass of wine in his hand and talking to people casually. He smiled once in a while when someone said something vaguely funny but I could tell something was wrong. His smile was not reaching his eyes. I wondered what it was. Was it the wife who loved him immensely? Was it the kid whose birthday party I was attending? I was wondering what did this man need to feel fulfilled.

His shoulders gave a noncommittal shrug once in a while as if trying to express some boredom at being stuck with a room full of people. I was wondering if all he needed was to get away and be alone. I knew him well once. He had been with me in school. We were never quite friends. We just had mutual friends and hence I was dragged to this odd party of a seven year old. He had changed since school. He wore a suit now, he owned his own car. He had worked hard I imagine but why such boredom. Why such emptiness in eyes?

I moved my gaze away from him scared that if he saw me he would think I am staring. I wasn’t really staring at him, I was just wondering. Here I was, old and alone. I was capable of  actually having pleasant conversation but the man who seems to have thrown this party and who should have enthusiasm to greet his guests was really just bored with his drink. He was attending to guests but as if he would be doing something else completely. I was standing with some of my school friends. All engaged or married with kids sharing their story about families. I kept thinking maybe after a few years in life, that’s all people can talk about. Nothing about self development. Nothing about learning something new. It was all about their kids learning a new word or the new toy they just bought. I was a misfit, but to my surprise so was my host.

He came over sometime later when I was listening to one of the fathers tell this funny story about how his son had ruined the restaurant decorum the other day. Blah blah. Like I cared. He came over and said hello and I noticed he had a new drink in hand. I doubt he got drunk in a few drinks because I could see he was a calm man. He spoke to everyone in general and made a few jokes about how they should do this more often. While moving away, he brushed past me and apologized.

I said: “Hey there mister, look where you walking”

He said: “OMG I didn’t see you! How come you are not talking to anyone?”

Me: “Oh you know, these parties are not for me. Anyway, everyone here is talking about either babies or partners and as you can see I am still all alone.”

Him: “Don’t say that you are alone. It doesn’t matter. What have you been up to lately?”

We talked for a while and I was waiting for a moment. I could feel like I needed to know why he was the way he was. He was saying goodbye to me when I asked: “Hey listen, what’s up with you? You don’t look okay?”

He was like: “How would you know now?”

Me: “Just by the way you keep turning your drink from one hand to the other, you are not even committed about drinking it, let alone being at this party.”

Him: “You want to know really?”

Me: “Yes?”

He held out a hand and said: “Let go then”

Me: “You sure it’s okay for you to leave?”

Him: “I am absolutely certain they won’t miss me”


That time in high school when everything was changing. People were getting accepted into schools, people were falling in love and forgetting their friends. People were planning their lives. I was scared then. I didn’t have a plan then. I still don’t. After university, the same fear returned, the fear of change. How will I ever meet my friends? We live in different places. Scary thought. I didn’t have a clue. I still don’t know how I keep in touch or lose touch. The thing is change is often painful. But does it really have to?

I am having one of those days when I desperately need a change. I got a haircut. Spent an hour in beauty centers. I need a change. Those days I wonder, how is it that sometimes we are so desperately trying to not have a change and others we really want it. Is change really a bad thing then or are we just confused individuals here not sure what we want. I am trying to enroll into a gym or get an activity or something. The truth is, I am just not feeling it. It meaning the adrenaline. The rush. The zha zha zhu like Carrie Bradshaw calls it. I am not feeling good about life. Human time is so limited and I feel like I have never felt it. I have never felt the high. Natural high. Adrenaline rush. I have never been able to cycle down a mountain slope. I am too scared. I cannot swim in open seas, I am too scared. Am I missing out on life because I am too scared? I cannot help but wonder.

I was talking to my friend and she asked me what did I like. I like books, I like to write. I like dancing. I like music. I like to be myself. I like being pushed. I like not having the option to complain sometimes. I like to be happy. I like all these things. But most importantly, I like to feel alive. Not just when I get to shop all on my own and I have my own credit card and stuff. I like to feel alive while doing things. I like to draw something completely hideous. Paint with colors all over the place. I like to have a mess to clear sometimes. I like to feel alive. I haven’t felt it in such a long time. I keep thinking maybe it is a person who will make me feel alive. To be honest, I have started to believe maybe it is not.

To feel alive, I believe you need to be at peace with yourself. You need to be doing feeling the zha zha zhu on your own. Maybe I have lost my marbles, but maybe the butterflies in your stomach when you meet somebody you really like is just something u feel you are missing in yourself. What if you can trigger the butterflies for yourself? Like a really odd ted talk told me, some woman could have orgasm by just flicking the ear or something. What if, the butterflies, love, everything that is making us feel so incomplete is actually in our power to achieve but we can’t do it because we are scared or pathetic in some other way.

They said if you are scared of needles you cannot be a doctor, so I didn’t become a doctor. But what if you are scared of living, would you rather be dead? If you are scared of living, should you be dead? I don’t know. But I can’t help wonder if everything that is good and great and what we need might just be inside our own heart and we are ignoring it.

Screw ups

Have you tried to throw someone the perfect party? Do you remember when you tried to write the perfect letter? Remember that time, when you tried to dress perfectly? What happened then? Did perfection happen? 

I have a theory, perfection happens by mistake. It is a concept that is not possible to make-happen. It just happens sometimes, invariably by no effort or thinking is put into making it happen. Like, that perfect first dance you have, or that perfect kiss, or that perfect date or the perfectly worded essay you wrote. Do you remember the recipe to any of those things? Probably not. In my opinion, there is no recipe for perfection. You cannot force any event to be perfect, there are bound to screw ups. 

I decided to have a perfect day. Have lunch out with friends, go for a movie and then eat ice cream before getting back home. I had lunch with friends which my friends didn’t enjoy much. We didn’t get tickets to the movie and the ice cream shop was so crowded that we didn’t get any. We didn’t give up though. We went back home, watched a 45 minute TV show and had a fruity drink. That was pretty great as well. You cannot force perfection, because perfection is natural. 

Look at yourself. Your body parts. I mean human body parts. Everything is perfectly made (for most of us). Yes some of us are fat, some are thin. We all have problems with our appearances but forgetting them, if you think about the biology. We are pretty perfectly made. So are oranges, apples and roses. Natural things. All natural things are perfect because perfection is natural. (And yes, I do even mean the disasters) You cannot make it happen. 

Basically, I learnt today after wasting a lot of time writing a stupid 4-line email. I wanted it to be perfect. So, after I sent it I noticed basic grammatical errors. You may ask why they existed. I would say cos I was trying to make it perfect. Don’t focus so much about the end result. Focus more about the process and then it would turn out to be perfect. Sometimes its okay to take your eyes off the goal of perfection if it lets you enjoy for a while. 

For all the people who are trying to find their perfect person, stop trying so hard. Believe. Let go of your perfect ideology and just live. Happy Valentine’s Day! 

“Falling from cloud 9, 

Crashing from the high.. 

I’m letting go tonight, 

I’m falling from cloud 9..”

I’m sure that we have all been through that place in our lives. Nobody’s life is picture perfect. You work hard, you get something, or you don’t. Shit happens. And between all the broken hearts and all the lost causes, life happens. Life. Is it wonderful, miraculous or just plain heartbreaking? There are so many stories in our lives. So many incidents, so many moments. Yet we choose to remember only a multiple few. I cannot help but wonder when life is happening, do we realize that it is happening. Some scholar some day defined the term life. Very biologically speaking, life is the presence of heartbeat or rather the 4-5 functions that the human body can perform. The whole concept of mind, and thoughts and words and heart and soul and everything that probably we take for granted are just add-on features to the word “life” very strictly speaking. Without these, we would still be alive. We would be said to have a life. 

We take so much for granted that the fact that we can write words, understand them, miraculously our brain interprets audio/visual cues that you don’t just sit down and thank your self. We are all so unsatisfied with ourselves. We don’t like our faces, our body weight, the homes we live in are too small, our parents embarrass us, we don’t ever get satisfied with our lives and that is heartbreaking. To even, the poorest, ugliest and fattest of human beings it is still a gift to be human. I am not an optimist, I don’t think we should feel like our lives are perfect all the time because that means we are not motivated to bring anything better into our lives but once in a while, you can feel grateful for this life. It is a gift. Your life, your senses, your being, your thoughts. They are all yours. Just yours. Appreciate them. If you believe in a God, thank them for it. Just once in a while, when everything is horrible, manage to appreciate the fact that you have more than most other beings do. Intelligence, beauty, material goods are all man made concepts. I am not saying become a saint, just once in a while, don’t run after all of these. Face life head on. Life. Breathe. Realize that you can breathe. Be happy. Be contented.