Tag Archives: Girls

110: Girls

20 Apr

I’ve never associated more with a tv show than I have with Girls, especially this time around. Not that I count either this show or me to be excessively and overpoweringly aligned with this twisted concept of feminism, but there’s no rounding just how powerful its impact has been. It’s been my show to savour, to save, to keep right for when I’m really in the mood to indulge myself – because each season has an unfortunate total of just 10 episodes each.

I love the complexity and girliness of it in its entirety. Be it about trying to find my feet, catch a breath, find a breather, make a space for my own self in my own self, maintain my relationships…I found myself feeding off of it more than I have before. Perhaps it’s just the honesty, unashamed, naked, and stark realness of it which speaks to me; which I find easier to associate with.

And let’s not even talk about just how emotionally powerful it has been – watching it has brought me to tears on multiple occasions, which took me by surprise to be honest. Sometimes when I’m in the mood to wallow in my own thoughts, it’s been quite a support to turn to. And it makes me sad to have to wait – for the show to get clearance for another season, and then of course for it to begin again.

For now, I’m swimming in this, which has stuck on with me.

 

The best feeling, in rotation with feeling loved, is that of knowing you’re not alone. It’s the removal of that stopper which magically makes everything feel better in an instant. And this is what the show gave me, in bundles. :)

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50: Unchanged

19 Feb

50 days, 50 posts.

Through all the changes, here’s my toast.


While 50 is not much, I think it’s deserving of some special attention, even if it’s with something small.

A lot has changed since I first sunk my teeth into these smilies back in 2006/2007 (I can’t remember).

Then I was a student, now I sometimes wish I was.

Then I thought twice about ordering a plate all for myself, now I can’t do without sharing them for old time’s sake.

Then the waiters hated waiting on us, now they go out of their way to say hello. (It happened yesterday)

Then it was coffee and smilies, now it’s rum iced tea and smilies.

Then they were shared over project discussions, now they’re downed over reminisces and current stressors.

Then we’d wait for money to decide our next meeting, and now we wait for time to be kind.

47: Small Things

16 Feb

The one place where a woman gets to be a girl all over again is at her mother’s place. It’s not about breakfasts in bed or exclusive luxuries which never were a part of our routines before (we never got to eat breakfast in bed unless we were ill). It’s about realising the little things that get left behind when you move on and put your own home together. The ease to sit down,

the gentleness of her stroking my hair,

our endless bickering over the smallest of things,

her powdery fragrance lulling me to sleep,

the touch of her hands,

that filled jug of water that only I drink from,

welcome post-it notes,

pink lilies blooming at my arrival,

my fluffed up quilt,

and the best of them all…

sound sleep without the care of responsibilities.

It’s all in the smallest of things. Always.

14 September

14 Sep

I’m still somersaulting in the rainbow of ma’s words. She knows me more than I know myself, but you and I both knew that anyway. There’s no way our parents don’t know the real us, and there’s really no hiding from them spelling the minutest of those details out to us; especially the unpleasant ones. Haha!

R and I honoured our plan to meet each other and she stopped by for a quick but very welcome break, yesterday. With her did she bring not only lots of newness amidst the familiarity, but also an opportunity for the two of us to just be ourselves like old times. Sipping over cups of tea and munching through tales of our every day lives and reflections, we clocked time like I haven’t done in a long while. So many memories were shared, so many new facets of our lives exchanged. The camera and taking photographs were completely forgotten about; or maybe we just don’t really do that sort of thing anyway. It is always hard to say bye, but it’s beginning to dawn upon me that these byes are born more out of gratitude and happiness, than from sadness. The small gifts that come along our way in the form of conversations, chuckles and laughter, a lingering eye contact that speaks of untold yet familiar stories…they’re all for keeps and cannot be filed alongside sadness. R arrived with a gift of sorts for me too, and it has been a delightful sight ever since I laid my eyes on it.


I’m not very versed in cuisines as such, but the possibility of owing a book makes me feel like I have already travelled to the place of its origin. This one is filled with stories, chapters, pictures, and of course, the magical delight of food.


I love South East Asian food for there’s a sense of comfort and fulfilment that always overflows so generously from the steaming bowls and plates they come in. My very limited travails have taken me through streets of food and discoveries that have always been a must do on my list; there’s always so much to learn and grasp.


This book seems to have it all and more. Besides, those pictures. And that fish; oh my.


What a perfect buy.

The thing that really calls out to me are the numerous similarities in the ingredients and methods of cooking Indonesian and Indian food comprise. I cannot wait to discover the treasures in this book; equipping me sufficiently for whenever a travel stop does happen to this famed island. Happies.


S called me ever so randomly yesterday – she has moved countries – and our conversation was rife with peals of laughter and curses, memories and time standing still. I miss her dearly. The last time I went back home to Bangalore was to say bye to her and it was just like how we would’ve said bye anyway – complete with conversations, lots of dancing, food, music, laughter and jokes. Marriage changes things not just for the couple but for their friends as well. But everyone is on their respective journeys and we’ve to learn to incorporate whatever we can into these newfound routes. Mad times. I hope they don’t ever change.

Here’s a song S introduced me to which she played during her wedding, and which I love to bits. Also, it fits because it’s Onam. Onamashamsagal (happy Onam), my dear friends.


*afk, dancing*

A Title Where Words Fail Me

25 May

After a lot of effort and trying really hard to write on Monday, I came away with more drafts than I would’ve liked. Four in the span of two hours almost shows the desperation I felt to get those words out and on to this space because they needed that release from my mind and heart, except those same words didn’t really budge in my favour. I lamented about it over here for a bit, and let it be because I’ve come to learn the importance and the necessity of letting things be when they need to be left alone. I was trying to write about my girlfriends. Clearly it didn’t prove to be an easy task and one that I’m still not trying to attempt at the moment, unless my words are ready to match all that my heart and soul feel.

The first time I was prompted to write about them was because of a phone call I received from A who lives every single ocean away from me. If you have a girl brigade, a sisterhood, a team, support system, your essential go-to gang, which germinated and evolved over the years; everyone’s probably all over the place by now, with distance and life having played their cards like they do on every single one of us.

Some of us left to be with our husbands, some for higher educational pursuits, some to take their careers forward while some stayed behind, choosing to continue their professional and personal journeys back at our home ground. These changes were bound to happen, but if you asked me five years ago, I wouldn’t have acknowledged this awareness with as much consciousness. It’s one of those things you know is an eventuality, just like ageing is, except when you stand and look at your life sometimes, nothing feels different. I’ve written about this weird time illusion here, and I felt this way a lot of last year especially.

However, I don’t really feel the same way any longer. My friends are interspersed across geographic locations and even though we pick up the phone and call each other, and even though we catch up from where we left off with an ease only those very comfortable relationships allow, I feel a difference in the passing of time. While we can laugh, gossip, be giddy-headed (my mom’s favourite adjective to describe my friends and me) and totally mad, we’ve also changed. I sense a growing up that has happened when we were too busy transitioning and not paying much attention to this metamorphosis that was also simultaneously happening on the side. Today we’re a little more busy or preoccupied, a little more aware, a little more understanding of space and what it means to give each other that without questioning it. We’re a little more wise, more cautious, more skilled at handling ourselves in situations we never thought we could get out of alive. There’s a little more grace, a lot more dignity, and that command for respect. There’s a sense of stature, of direction (even when we feel so lost, which we do so often), of being in control (again, even if we aren’t really in control or feel like our life’s going crazy).

If I were to have a reunion with my friends, it would feel like time has stopped or gone back to its old ways where nothing has changed, where there were no responsibilities or as much stress about and accountability for one’s actions. We would gag on our own laughter and warrant stares from other tables, order food like we’re starving beasts and get bills that run longer than the length of our table. We would talk dirty, cheap, and still maintain that poise even with our hair flying in every direction from that amount of shoulder-shaking laughter and occasional snorts. Despite a higher spending capacity earned by our grit and effort, we would drink a lot less than we would’ve had we met a few years earlier, but we would’ve still had the same amount of cheese and french fries. And we would definitely moan over anything that deserved moaning as we savoured it off our plates. Time speaks in its own way, and will always continue to. Today if I were to meet my friends over a lazy lunch, we would still talk about all that crazy stuff like we did back in college even though our conversations would also now involve spouses, maids or the lack thereof, housekeeping, parents, the need for space, existential choices and decisions, the perennial lack of money and how expensive things have become, life and how it feels like it’s going nowhere. We would bitch about everything that needed bitching about. And then we would order dessert or step out for some exclusive Corner House treats. It all feels the same and yet different, too. Some of us may arrive later than the others thanks to housekeeping and/or marital duties. Some of us may arrive late because we never really were the ones to arrive in time anyway. Some of us may arrive first and leave first. Some of us could arrive first and linger around. Some of us may not even show up and it would be understood.

Priorities.

If I was to engage in some navel-gazing today, I would certainly say that we’ve caught up with time, or are getting there at least. We are more aware of time’s ways and its fragility. We are more conscious of time and its limited stock disclaimer. In every sense, I know we are more clear about taking the next step forward, whatever it may be, because we know that no one’s waiting any more. We’ve all taken foot on our respective journeys, irrespective of where we are, and while distance and time are relative, our bonds have withstood their tests so far.

To the ones who got married early and are having babies, to the ones who got married early and don’t really care about babies, to the ones who are driven by higher educational goals, to the ones who’ve moved out of home, to the ones who’ve stayed back at home, to the ones who so badly want to leave home, to the ones who want to be away from home but have their sense of home close by, to the ones who feel jaded by time, to the ones who just don’t care, to the ones who have the wind in their hair, to the ones who feel an oscillation of love and hate regularly, to the ones who feel like our bodies are changing faster than we care to accept or recognize, to the ones who stand their ground, to the ones who are everywhere yet here together – we’re all fighting the good fight every single day. We’re all just still a phone call away, irrespective of time zones, changing priorities, errant bosses. We’re still that sisterhood we never thought we’d become but which we worked towards becoming anyway.

To that support system which no one else can be – it’s a blessing, time’s doing and distance’s way of showing how close we can be, no matter how physically far apart we actually are.

Twisted

7 Apr

I don’t know why I am as distracted as I am. Being a Monday and being normal, it’s only safe to assume that I do, in fact, have work lined up, all of which does have an expected completion timeline that really isn’t far away. But I’m finding it a tad hard to focus this rather normal Monday morning, or noon, as it were.

No, I’ve not had an overly mind-blowing weekend that’s left me hanging in the doldrums today. It was a rather decent week followed by a decent weekend that was just apt. And no, I have no tangible distractions that are contributing to this state of mind. There are no occupationally hazardously good looking/smelling men around, there is no good food, nothing. I’m seeking the help of my trance playlists to help pull me up and out and get that momentum going because none of us likes panic, do we? I’m sure we’d like to seal this day (and every other day) the way we would like to.

What has been on my mind off-late is, or could be, rather innocuous. It’s just the “normalcy” (I’m sorry if I say it ever so lightly) of being a girl that’s been playing on my mind this entire weekend. I haven’t suddenly woken up to realize my reality. It’s something that has been dawning upon me for a while now. Of course, I’m no feminist. Neither do I engage with or acknowledge chauvinists. I find the need to reiterate this every time because sometimes my views come across more strongly than they should. Given that I am as opinionated as I am, it doesn’t help to have the world be misunderstood by what I am or think. Because that’s my playground to play in.

It has dawned upon me that I really cannot just be what I want to be or do. I mean, I can. But I can’t. I have been brought up in and continue to live in an environment that gives me the freedom to be just who I want to be; that gives me the space to discover my individual self. And I feel blessed because, while this subject is so far removed from education or even class, I see so many who really never have a choice. Never. And so, I say, quite humbly, that I do feel blessed to have the choice to find my own path.

But do you also feel like every path you walk on also has invisible threads that pull you in all directions? That you really aren’t as free as you thought you were; that there are always some darned strings attached somewhere? I’ve been feeling this conflict off-late. While I have blogged about this earlier and wrote about it manifesting in rebellious, teenage-like behaviour, I do seem to see more and more of this feature becoming visible in not just the small things in my life but also the rather deeper things in life I thought I had somewhat figured out. Of course, there isn’t a standard set of rules I follow or a book I refer to. But it does get quite disconcerting when what you think and what you see and what you hear about don’t quite match.

For example, we’re told that it’s your right to go ahead and do exactly what you want to, that you have just one life and that you’ve to go grab every opportunity that comes your way, yada yada. But then when you set out to do exactly those things, there are those tiny but rather strong factors that do make you think twice and question yourself, if not hold you back completely. There’s so much of a discrepancy between what you should be, what you want to be and what your reality allows you to be. It’s frustrating. I’m not here to crib because that certainly has got us places. It’s just annoying to have your space but not really.

Living a conflicted amalgamation of what is okay and what isn’t okay by your standards and the standards of those who matter to you is tiring. Some people do it effortlessly because you compromise along the way. We’re not here to please everybody, but it’s important to know whom to drop along the way. When we openly and brazenly talk about not giving an eff, do we really, really not give an eff? Really?

How easy is that path to walk down? And if it isn’t easy, or hasn’t been, then why? That’s my question. That’s my conflict. Where do you draw the line and how soon?

You may wonder what this has to do with being a girl/woman. I say it because a) I am one and not the other, and b) because I’m at that stage of my life right now where I find it harder when compared to the opposite sex, only by comparison and not experience of course. What is okay for me isn’t okay for the other. And what is okay for the other is absolutely ridiculous to me. And I realize that there has to be compromise to reach that common ground which only seems either non-existent or so far out of reach.

I realize that if I truly do not want to give an eff, I need to stop and see what I’m truly deciding not to give an eff about. Because if I were to be ignorant and walk my own path, my own way, I doubt I’d ever get what I’ve truly envisioned for myself. They’re right when they say you’ve got to give to get. First give, at that. And if I’m to use my deductive faculties correctly, that means I need to give an eff first to not give an eff.

Oh, twisted, twisted life and its paths. You really never know what lies around the bend, do you? And is it that easy for a girl to break-off and really not give an eff? I’m in that super distracting moment, now. There’s no wonder.

 

PS, apologies (or not) on the random twistedness of it all. Thank you for listening, if you’ve been patient enough. :)

Simple Things

21 Mar

IMG_9345 IMG_9341 IMG_9343 IMG_9344 IMG_9361 IMG_9362 IMG_9363 IMG_9309To say that it’s been a hectic week is pushing it. Pinch me, I can’t believe the much awaited weekend’s finally here. It’s time to kick back and just be.

There isn’t much to say. I think my pictures will do all the talking that needs to be done. My head feels a tad bit overcrowded and maybe I need the caffeine to sort things out before I figure out what’s going on.

In the mean time, here’s what I’ve been hooked to ever since I heard it. It’s a track that played at the end credits of one of the episodes of this series called Girls. Have you watched it? I just about managed to catch up on its latest episodes and this one track stood out for everything it speaks of and of course, its placement in the episode. Give it a listen. It’s beautiful. It’s apt. It speaks my mind.

Smoke with me babe
And lay with me babe
Laugh with me babe
I just want (the) simple things
I just want you.

So simple. So powerful.

It’s been a week of indulgence all through. Which reminds me, I’ve been talking to my friends about randomly wanting a burrito loaded with goodness and that occasional cappuccino because sometimes you just want that random burrito and cappuccino. And from nowhere, both happened. It’s strange how things happen. Not that it’s hard to find these things today. It’s just strange how they come to you when they do.

You could give California Burrito a try, if you haven’t already. I can just about manage to finish (and by finish, I mean stuff my face beyond belief) a mini burrito. I still feel rather full from lunch, that’s the only hiccup. But I can’t bare to waste that mini burrito. It’s just wrong to do so. I quite like the spicy chicken one. My friends do have their rice bowl and they quite enjoy it. But I don’t think I have the stomach for it, not for the time being at least. Sigh.

Simple things.

That’s what the good life’s all about.

Thank you for listening to this random post.

Have a beautiful Friday.

PS, Mexican food is…rajma-centric and still so top notch!