To lean on?

Independent.
For the longest time now, I have associated myself with this word.

I have been living on my own for the past 2 and a half years and away from home for over 5 years now. So when I go back home for a visit now, it is almost always accompanied with my parents looking at me with a hint of tears in their eyes, the good ol' Indian parents thinking how much their daughter has changed. For the good, hopefully. Oh and also, my uncle showing me off to all of his friends with pride and saying, "Our journalist is back home".
So, for them I'm the most independent as it can get.

On the hindsight, not as much.

As I recall on a very blurred drunken night, on my way back from a friend's place, in the cab, while leaning on a guy friend, he had said, "In the words of Major Lazer, all we need is someone to lean on". Smart move yo, smart move. 

But how does that make me truly independent? If in my weakest times, I'm not comfortable with myself but need reassurance from another someone. 
I have never believed that I need validation from someone to feel good about the way I look, so why then should I need an approval stamp for the way I want to feel?

So, last night, while I was in my room, trying on the best clothes I had and dancing, coincidentally, to the tunes of Major Lazer's Lean On, neither did I feel the need to answer those texts that kept coming in nor did I feel the need to text anyone.
 
And that's when it dawned up on me, maybe Major Lazer could have changed the lyrics around a bit. Sometimes, all we need is someone to lean on, for all the other times, we can be perfectly fine on our own. 

About heartbreaks

You aren't my first heartbreak or my last. But that is what scares me.
That this searing pain in my heart will be back and I will be here wondering, how many more to go. 

Unrest

She hasn't stopped fidgeting with the pen. She's walking fast. She flings the paper on her desk and then stops. She could feel the eyes on her.

The unrest, the tension was inevitable. She had had enough. It was time to leave. But the cubicle in front of her and the glasses around were restricting her from looking beyond.

And once she got out of work, it was the indecisiveness that bothered her - Indecisiveness of the people around her, her own inability to decide where to go. The so-called home in the city that still wasn't home to her, didn't seem to welcome her anymore. The thought of having mundane conversations with people she was supposed to hangout with or stepping back to work, suffocated her. So, inevitably there she was, in the middle of nowhere, still struggling to breathe.

She needed time. Time to slow it all down. Time to figure out where she was headed. Time to find herself in the mess she had created. 

Scared

She  was scared that the world will know.
She was scared that she will always be emotionally vulnerable.
She was scared that she will be rejected.
She was scared that he won't love her.
She was scared about the fact that she was scared all the time. 

To-do list

How often are you asked this question – What is the one crazy thing you have done in your life? And if you took a pause of five minutes to think about the answer, well, you and I are on the same boat. I’m 23 and my answer always is, I still have a long way to go. The truth is, I’m 23, and I should be out doing crazy things right now. And no, before you think that I’m going to take a sabbatical and that I’m going to turn up in hippie clothes proclaiming that my life is “cool”, I’m not going to do that.

This is just a promise I make to myself and put it out there in the cyberspace to hope that before I’m 25, I hopefully must have ticked most, if not all of these mentioned ideas. And well, I could always add more (which is why the blank pointer in the end).

•           Quit my first job
•          Go on a solo trip to any place, could be 25 kms away from the city I’m currently living in or the other end of the country.
•           Try something new, take a salsa lesson or learn a new language or learn a musical instrument
•           Go on my first trip abroad.
•           Go on a really fancy date with the guy I like and pay for the date.
•         Instead of being the “watchguard” amongst friends, get drunk at a party and just be crazy.
•          Do something I’m afraid of.
•           Get an actual fashion blog shoot done.
•            

Because you are no more 22 :D

This photo because I miss going to new restaurants in the city with you

Living away from home, I would always boast that I’m this really independent person who can easily walk into an unknown city and make that home too. (But, the lights have to be switched on throughout the night in my room, because you know, devils). I can proudly say that in 5 years, there has not been one moment when I have been homesick (Mummy, I still love you).

But the truth is, there have been people that I have met who made me not miss home, who became family. And Miss Paul was my one-woman-army. I mean family.

Why am I writing this today? Because it’s her birthday. And I was late in wishing her, also because like a needy puppy she messaged me saying, “Do I have to ask for a post now?”. Well, that’s after she messaged me at 1 pm IST, when I was a few drinks down and listening to blaring Yo Yo Honey Singh songs while trying to hold a friend who whispered into my ear *hold me I will fall*, “Hi, it’s my birthday”.

Even though we are miles away, there has not been a day that has gone by when I haven’t spoken to her. Be it her confusion about attending a play or a talk by two authors, both happening at the same time, or her skyping with me to show how amazing a burger looks there or when she became my Christina Yang to tell me "he's not the sun, you are", well, we have managed to keep each other entertained, even now.

But, if there’s one person I miss more than words could ever put together, it’s Miss Paul. But keeping aside my selfish want of hoping that she was still in the city, I feel like a proud mother every time I talk to someone about how she just spent 57 pounds buying some amazing clothes or even one someone says something as awkward and sweet as “you’ve got a book in you, Amrita”.

Because you do Miss Paul.  You do.

Losing

It's usually not difficult for me to write or talk to people. My computer, Ms Word, Times New Roman, point size 12 and the words start flowing.

But, everytime I think about what I feel for you I fall short of words. The way you make me feel, when we are on the dance floor, like there's no one else around. Or the way you catch a glimpse of me when no one's looking.

You make me forget the times you didn't hold my hand, the times when you didn't call or the times when you chose not to spend time with me. When you are here in front of me, I lose control.

But that's what scares me. I forget about the nights I have spent hoping you would come back, hoping that you would call or that you would stay. I forget about the times you were unfair or the times you didn't care about me.

Because really, that's all it takes. One glance from you and I know I can be there for you. But would you do the same?

It's been a long time since we have been playing this game and I see myself losing. Losing myself to you but losing against myself. 

To Anonymous

There were times I would furiously write down what was on my mind and wonder who’s reading this anyway. I would shout into the void and wonder if there’s someone waiting to hear what I have to say. I would sob silently and hope that there was someone who understood.

*pop* Notification: Anonymous comment.

Not once or twice but Anonymous would be back with his words every time I wrote. Cheering me up when I was low, helping me up when I was down, Anonymous was always there.

There were times I would write and wait, why has there been no comment. No Anonymous notification, dropping down a few wise words. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, nothing. And then suddenly out of nowhere, Anonymous would be back, sometimes, back with a smile.

Just the other day, I was thinking I will write for Anonymous one day.

And then, my phone rang. You called. We laughed, we shouted at each other, we spoke till we ran out of words and right when I was on a rant about how you had forgotten me, you said, “So who do you think reads your blog every time.”

It was you. It has been you all along. And just like that, you make me realise that we may drift apart, we may not talk anymore but when the days are bad and the times are tough, we can always go back to those seven days, those few months and smile.

We were never bound by the shackles of a name, we were and will always be just two people, falling in love, just a little, oh a little bit every day with someone new.

But

I have been waiting for far too long now.

I have been warned, asked to stay away.

I have been told that I don’t deserve it.

But,

You said you’ll be there soon.

You paved way for something new.

You said you’ll make it worth it.

I’ll be waiting. 

Missing Miss Paul

We had a ritual, Miss Paul and me. Every time the either of us came back from a holiday, the other one had to be there, waiting downstairs to help with the luggage. Even if it was just a three-day vacation with a tiny luggage bag, we would find our way up through those wretched steps, laughing or complaining about spending days alone in the hostel (more often than not with her saying "tu kitna luggage leti hain re").

This time, I couldn't call her for she had already left for home before she starts a new chapter at the Newcastle University.

There's a new mat in front of her room and trust me when I say this, that room has never been this clean. While the room and its walls must be thanking their stars, the entire essence of Miss Paul has gone.

And where is it found now you ask? The very unkempt way in which she has left my room. And for once, I'm not complaining. It's found in the letter she has left for me and the weird books she has left for me because she couldn't carry them back.

She is miles away now yet is the first person to be there for me when I'm stupidly crying in my room because as luck would have it, in my two years in Hyderabad, it's maybe the first time I got fever.

I miss her when I think about those walks we took around the streets of Marredpally, talking about the phase of my life which I'm still stuck in. Now, she gives me her anecdotes over text messages.

I miss her when I turn around and see someone else sitting at her desk.

I miss her when there's no one to trouble or tease.

But I miss her the most when I come back home to an empty corridor and enter my room closing the door behind me, shutting out the room that was once hers. 

For Jeremy: 1

Photo credit: Miss P. Read her blogs here yesnobutwhy

To understand the reference of Jeremy, read this wonderfully written article in New York Times.

And just like that, a name — one I referred to often — became an archetype, a trope, an all-purpose noun used by my college friends to talk about “that guy,” the one who remains for us in some netherworld between friend and boyfriend, often for years.
Excerpt from Modern Love, published on New York Times

"He's your Jeremy," she said.

Haven't we all found ourselves at that weird situation, where you don't know what's going on. A little laughter when you meet, a smile when he messages and yet annoyance when you fail to get the answer. You try to withdraw yourself, bury yourself in your cocoon and yearn for him to notice. Alas, there is no notice.

And you on the other hand, turn into this self-deprecating version of yourself. Finding faults and picking fights.

But why should a man be allowed to rule over your mood, you protest. His yes, brightens your day and a no, brings you to this dull halt. And you're left to question your own feelings, about when is a good time to pick up those baggage of emotions and leave.

It's only a little time before you feel the distance. When after having pulled your hair in frustration, you will decide to step away.

But is there really a goodbye? Every time he pulls you back, you give it another chance, a shot at "what could be". And this goes on. You trap yourself in this circle of emotions, which never had a beginning and therefore, will never see an end.

He will come to you at his time of need and you will look for him to share a laugh. There will be those effortless conversations, those laughter sessions, those rare trips around town where he will treat you fine and you will wish it lasts forever.

The time runs out and you fall back.
And he, he will always be your Jeremy.

Back at work

"So, how does it feel?" everyone asked me. 

First day back at work after a 13-day leave can seem like a tiresome task, and sometimes when you're a journalist and you have been hearing stories about being short-staffed, it can be dreadful.

It starts off right as I had predicted it, the curse of the return, astroman (Copyright, Miss P) was waiting for me. And as I worked on the predictions that astroman had written down for others, apart from the usual nondescript sentences, he seemed to be doing quite fine. 

That and the usual coffee banter or the hurried chats between work where we still manage to find the most stupid jokes and laugh it off as they were the best, brings you back to the everyday routine you had.

And even then, by the end of the day, you look at the empty chairs or the replaced ones. You look around for those random messages that used to pop up on your screen or the offering of a biscuit right when you are super hungry. The conversations that would make you smile or the one that continues over texts about pending plans that have to be checked off a bucket list. 

Somethings don't change for good and the ones that do, leave an empty space forever. Sure, with time, you adjust to it but at times, when you look up from your desk, and there's no one to say "Can I interest you with a cookie?", you wish they had never changed.

:)

Only Time

Who can say if your love grows,

As your heart chose - Only time,

And who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows, only time,

Who knows? Only time

- (Only time by Enya)

Every time someone tells me, With time, you'll know the answer, I wonder. So what's this time going to do? Obviously, I don't know the answer to that too. You don't as well. 

But anyway, I stood with it, time. As the clocks went all tick-tock, I stepped away. I put myself in a different place, did different things, tried to avoid texts, calls. I laughed, cried, almost threw the phone in frustration but I refrained from jumping the boundary that time had put forth. 

In the complexities of today's relationships, I don't know what we are. Then again, they say time will tell.
The wretched know-it-all, time. And this, when I don't even wear a watch!

And yet as the seconds turned into minutes, I thought about you over and over again. I wrote to not think about you, I wrote to say something to you but I only wrote about you.

I hope you are hoping too, I wish you want it too, I dream you see it too. But the answer is with, only time.

Going away, again

And the bags are packed yet again, now standing in the hallway.
I remember the first time it was like this, five years ago. Two big suitcases filled to the brim and being overweight with the luggage was not a worry. I'm told now, "Take the smaller suitcase, you anyway come home only for a few days".
Right at the door, my dog sits patiently. Five years ago, he thought I was just heading out and will be back in a few hours. When my parents came back home without me, he kept growling at them. Now, he's accustomed, every time I come home, he knows I'll be gone soon.
The mangoes are not yet ripe, but I'm told they are expecting a good lot this year. My sisters giggle, "We'll tell you how it tastes."
The kinara shop uncle is excited to know about my adventures yet gives my dad a look of disappointment when I say I'll be gone tomorrow.
There's a big renovation planned at home. "It will take a long time to have everything ready," says the architect. My mom turns to me with a heavy heart and says, "It will be done when you're home the next time."

Disappointment. Abandonment.

Everytime someone walks into your life, someone who you just met at the bar or someone who had been there all along but just decided to wake up now, you build dreams. You think about the possibility of a you and him, of an us. And right when you are feeling all fuzzy inside, you stop yourself.
Why? Because you are scared. You are scared that you'll be disappointed and abandoned yet again. There are just so many questions in your head. Should I call? Should I text? Will he think I'm clingy? Will he think I don't care? Will he reply? Is he ready? Maybe he's not the emotional kinds, maybe he's just figuring it all out. Maybe he likes me but he just needs time.
Ever noticed that in all of these questions or statements, you are thinking about him. What if you aren't ready and what if he is? Everytime you are thinking too much, take the plunge anyway, hit the send button because if he replies, you know he cares and if he doesn't,  you know you have to move on.
My friends had been raving about Lena Dunham for the longest time and I was trying to make sense about what is actually so great about her. I picked up her book Not That Kind of a Girl and in just a few pages, I know why Girls these days are all about Lena.
She says you shouldn't be sleeping with anyone who makes you feel like you're invading their space. I think about it. Because why should you be scared to text? Isn't being able to freely talk/text/call an important part of a relationship or whatever it is that you've decided not to name?
There will always be too many questions in your head, you will always be scared of disappointment and abandonment but you'll never be sure of where you are headed if you don't take the plunge.
So, the next time you are scared, stop, breathe and do what your heart says. Because, you may not deserve the best, but you certainly deserve what your heart wants. 

Me, Myself and I

Is it weird that sometimes even when things are going perfect, when you are with your best of friends and things couldn't get better, you feel that sense of emptiness. That feeling of not knowing where you belong to. 

It struck me when you told me, "You should spend more time with yourself." 

All of these years, I have found myself as the friend who has always been there, the colleague who is ready to take up more work or the family member, who away from home has time to listen to every minute detail of a problem. Don't get me wrong. In all of these circumstances, I have volunteered to be "that person who's always there", but over the course of time, it feels I didn't have the time to know myself more. 

Like when you asked me about my interests. I didn't know. I played it cool by saying that I'm into everything but the truth is I haven't done anything yet purely because of the reason that it interests me. It's always been to accompany a friend or just a random outing. 

Or even when Miss Paul was ready with her college applications and she turned to ask me about mine and I had no clue about what I wanted to do. I had always wanted to do journalism and now, two years of being in the field and having so many experiences, I don't know what's the road ahead for me. I'm content with my job right now but at the same time, the urge to do something more eats into my everyday schedule.

It's late. But it's time I look out for myself, spend time with myself to know what I want to do. A getaway all by myself, a course that I join alone, a morning walk every morning... so many options and I realise them now. Maybe sometimes, it's not bad to be lonely, to embrace that feeling of being alone but only to be content where you are. 

Looking for you

Have you ever felt it? When words don’t come to you, when the pressure gets to you, when it seems impossible to meet deadlines, how he just brightens up your computer with a message that says ‘hey’ and the rush you feel when you suddenly know what to say, what to write and you smile, because you know it’s him and how even the most inconsequential conversation makes you blush. 

Have you ever felt it? The chaos, the scattered sheets, the tumbled ink bottle that has spilled over your desk ruining that important review, which has to be sent in to the boss any minute now, the paper cuts, the rushed assignments, the forced smiles, the phone dying on you right when you have to take that final interview, the disgruntled look from your colleagues... and right amidst all of that, a glance. He looks at you, and you stop,. You stop and smile to yourself. That feeling of contentment and suddenly you are transported from that chaos to the quiet, where it’s just you and him.

Have you ever felt it? Because that’s where I found you, right in the middle of the mumbled sentences, the half spoken words and the unthought-of possibilities. You have been here all along but I found you when I stopped looking and only then I realised, you were the calm to my distress. 

Of stolen glances

Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams

With a white dress that clung on to her for dear life and a glass in hand, she swirled as the DJ spun the music.  In between a hustle, she spotted him. Stealing a glance. Her eyes met his right before he chose to look away, and they lingered on for just a little while. Even as she moved along, she could feel his eyes on her. Her friend nudged her to walk up to him for a conversation as did his. But both of them laughed it off as their eyes met again.

Many drinks later, she sat down after all the dancing as her friend started a conversation with one of the guys they had just met. She was browsing through her phone, contemplating taking her heels off, she eventually did. He sat at the bar counter talking to a friend. A while later, the friend walked up to her and as he tried to start a conversation, she looked over at him, he was still looking. She continued talking to the friend and soon, he stopped looking. Laughing as the friend joked about the silliest of things, they found common interests and wishes. And while the friend tried his best, she tried to steal a glance at him as he now sat alone at the counter with a drink in hand. She wished to talk to him.

She walked up to the counter, asked for a drink to the bartender. He smiled. She smiled back. The drink was there, she looked at him again, hoping he would say something. Instead, the sea green eyes just looked back at her. She smiled again as she started to walk back.

And then it was time to leave. She put her heels back on and there it was, the last glance that said goodbye.

An old photograph

I was rummaging through the old box in the corner of the room. And as I put away the tattered teddy bear that I once held close to my heart and made way through the cobwebs that now entangled all the little things that at a time meant the most to me, I found them. In a file that was almost falling apart, I relived my childhood memories. High school photographs of memories good and bad, of laughter and tears and... of friendships lost and those that have strengthened over the years. And even though the photographs hold the ugliest side of me, they will never meet the trash box for they also hold a life that was once mine, a smile that was the brightest and a time that has gone by.

And that’s when I realised. You too are an old photograph for me.