Tag Archives: Marriage

Being Married

2 Dec

We turned a grand total of one, last week.
(I hope we turn many more years older, together)

With these months in my kitty, it feels like I can write a book about marriage, and on being married. Maybe I will, some day. But today isn’t that some day. Today I’m doing a little bit of what a lot of my year has been like…

That of complete surrender even when I desperately tried clinging on to the me I knew of all my life.

That of finding a newer version of the same old me.

That of learning to love beyond the cliches.

That of witnessing intensely powerful emotions even when all I wanted was to maybe just have an ice cream or do something simpler.

That of watching love, anger, hate, fear, sadness, and a lot of the unknown, collide, mix and interact.

That of understanding what leaving home really, really meant.

That of figuring out what those tears that I cried during my wedding, meant…much later.

That of  understanding compromise and killing subduing one’s ego.

That of accepting oneself and each other at the our best, average, worst, and ugliest versions, respectively.

That of communication, trust, and freedom.

That of allowing oneself and each other to be vulnerable all over again…love cannot embed or germinate in hardened hearts.

That of finding oneself in this merger of selves.

That of automatically loving the other even when white sheets of anger rained.

That of patience and the magic of time.

That of physical touch.

That of expressing and responding to desires.

That of eye contact.

That of sharing; almost everything (and I don’t mean email passwords).

That of comfort even with bushy eyebrows and forests freely grow on one’s limbs.

That of being co-dependent, not dependent or independent.

That of being alone in each other’s company.

That of picking which battles to fight.

That of understanding each other’s personal space.

That of silence.

That of responsibility, oh of responsibility.

That of not giving up no matter how hard it might get sometimes.

The list is endless, all that I’ve learnt, even more so. It’s been a crazy journey of running, walking, trying to catch up, going out of breath, getting ahead, staying in tune. Sometimes I run out of words to describe the experience, and sometimes my emotions get the better of me. I have learnt more about myself in the past few months than any book or words could have taught me. But I know I wouldn’t have come to where I am today without the help of those I turn to on a very regular basis. Knowing you aren’t alone is the biggest booster.

Marriage is a lot of hard work, I was told many a times. And truer words haven’t been spoken.

But it’s quite the ride if you and your heart are game for it. It’s a heart game; all heart. And it’s beautiful, even when you’ve forgotten to wear waterproof makeup. :)

The Small Things We Do – II

6 Jul

I was proceeding to write about the small things we do and that often stay back in the happy recesses of my mind, when it struck me that I have more than one blog post about the small things we do on a regular basis. It turns out that it’s the small things that really make my world go round in more ways than I have actually comprehended, some of them reflecting on the things I write about from time to time. This was from the last time.

Sometimes I actively seek them out, sometimes I wait in patience for them and sometimes I’m taken by surprise at their arrival; these small things. It was when we were in bed last night and were drifting off to sleep when this post nestled itself in my mind, ready to wake up today. The feeling of experiencing your heart surge with pure love and joy, one that you cannot equate or really measure to anything else, is beyond special.

Never have I felt as much excitement at the arrival of monsoons, than I have this year. With it raining everywhere in the country and with it having been announced even in the papers, the thrill of finally being able to come alive and feeling rejuvenated was one that I could hardly wait for. The weather has featured a lot in my talk and my preoccupation with what exactly to complement it by. Food, of course, is one eternal feature that has an attire for every day, every weather condition, every season. Food never disappoints. We woke up to a relatively cooler morning, last Saturday. It didn’t feel cloggy, overpowering or stifling. And so I treated us to this gem which we savoured with our cups of chai, silence and meditation of sorts. The feeling still resides in me and is one I hope to evoke as much and as often as I can. We welcomed the official arrival of monsoon with this:

It was a very welcome change for both my husband and I, as we went about our own Saturday morning business, with this on and armed with our hot bevvys. Music, they say, is the universal language of everything, and truer words have never been spoken. Music is magic and magic is music. 

That was where the tone and the conception of this post made itself present and lingered on till it took shape in my mind, ready to arrive here. The small things we do make me want to capture them in my mind’s eye and hold on to them forever.

Whether it’s falling asleep to the banter of each other’s voice, or
using the other as a pillow for your leg especially, nestling your foot in crevices that fit perfectly.

Whether it’s playing running and catching just for a hug, or
to have the last slap on the other’s back.

Whether it’s making up with unexpected desserts (because one of us loves desserts at any and all times), or
strengthening one’s argument with a specially prepared meal.

Whether it’s keeping the other’s bottle in the fridge so they can have cold water on the go (because one of us seldom picks up after themselves), or
making the bed without being told.

Whether it’s about buying the biggest pack of Parle-G biscuits (because one of us cannot do without Parle-G with their tea), or
buying chocolates or extra packs of fruit yoghurt without prior planning.

Whether it’s about walking out of a hellish kitchen complete with sweat and irritation to a freshly opened bottle of chilled beer, or
waking up to hot chai that is not too milky or heavy or weak.

I love the small things we do.

I love the small things we do for each other and the small things we do for ourselves.

The half an hour of precious quiet time when I can savour my cup of tea/coffee every morning…
The book I can pore over in bed before we turn in for the night…
The endless conversations, irrespective of whether you’re being heard or not…but which you make sure result in your being heard by sneaking in tricky question and answer games or that customary ‘are you listening to me? Yes. Then why can’t you respond?!’ check…
The mindless Over The Phone banter I have with my girlfriends, lying spread-eagle on the bed, without a care in the world…
The occasional staring at my washing machine as the laundry is being done just so it locks in my sense of satisfaction…
The sporadic walks I gift myself when the limbs, mind and body need fresh air…
Oh, and the latest – the fulfilling of what feels like an endless chicken hakka noodle craving…

They really aren’t huge, fancy, dress-up, or even expensive things; not that I’d ever condemn the occasional fanciness. But it’s a good mix so far. Sometimes I lean over to the idea that I’m the more caring one and even try to push my husband into complying with that idea. But of course we know how that turns out. Haha!

As of now, I’m ready to do the smallest of things to just make the skies open up and give us that relief. A friend asked me how the monsoons are, to which I said they’re fake. They’ve arrived minus any rain. What kinda monsoon is that?! But I’m still holding on to my (bleak) sense of hope and chugging along, just waiting for this week to pass and be done with.

There are too many small and big things lined up for the next week and the wait is unbearable.

On Arriving

5 Apr

Just when I was celebrating my continuous run here on the blog, did a spoke wedge itself in my routine. It has been a busy week – a busy week spending time with my mom who was visiting and my family at large. Nobody wants to sit in front of their computer when you can sit and stare at your parent instead, right? Haha!

We didn’t really do much, or rather we didn’t really do anything fancy or out of the ordinary. This time was largely spent being at home and just faffing around…sometimes in conversation, sometimes in silence. Besides, it has become too hot and no person in their sane mind would want to gallivant in this weather, I’m sure.

It’s one thing to be busy in an office kind of way and it is absolutely another thing to be busy doing nothing sometimes. I tried hovering around my mother as much as I could, even at the cost of annoying her, but then again, we don’t get to meet each other on a daily basis anymore, so it’s all okay, I’ve realized.

She came home (my home) for the first time since I’ve been married and I did have these goals to make it as easy and comfortable for her as I could. After all, we do want to show the ones we love the most, the best time ever. We do want to show them that we’re more in control, more settled, more able…that this decision we made to leave home and pick a life with our spouse, was a good decision indeed. We do want to deliver a sense of ease and perhaps even (small forms of) luxury from time to time… Basically, I think it’s all about showing a sense of maturity, a sense of actual growing up.

Her visit wasn’t as bad, I imagine. However, it wasn’t as I had planned either. Call it starting trouble or being too ambitious, the entire plan I’d churned up in my head didn’t entirely go the way I would’ve wanted it to. But then I do have to remind myself of two very important things, one of which I have stated here quite so many times before:

a) Things seldom go as per plan. So either be more flexible or have no expectations.

b) My homestead is not even six months old. It’s going to be raw and it isn’t going to be like a hotel. Ever. Therefore, it is okay.

Being a host is such an important factor to me – apart from the fact that I do enjoy it very much (and very selectively), it validates me in more ways than just testifying that I am capable of running the show. It allows me the ability to give to people what I cannot give in words or even physical action; because that is reserved only for those chosen few. However, it does become easier for me to show my love and care through these actions which helps undo the vibes of unapproachability  I give off all the time. It is that one forte that allows me to become a more balanced version of myself, a platform that gives me a chance to express who I am in so many different ways.

Therefore I did not want mom to cook or clean or do the things she does at her own home. But moms are moms and moms must do what they must do, I reckon. Therefore I was blessed with her presence in so many ways – I got to have food made by her, I got to just sit with her and do nothing but sponge off all that I could from her (even her faint fragrance), I got to lie down with her, I got to chat and gossip and crib with her…she brought colour, more life and more soul to this place… it feels a lot more like home now – and I’m certain that’s a thing only mothers can do without doing much really… nothing extravagant or ornate; just simple habits we’ve grown up with that took new roots here as well… her taking the dusting cloth and going a bit crazy with it, her lighting the lamp at home, her folding the clothes while in conversation, her tidying up the results of my nasty habit of strewing clothes on the chair… something as simple as her using my body lotion or me covering her with a sheet as she dozed…so automatic, so innate, so familiar. While she did her own thing and always kept herself occupied with something (as she would have done, in her own home), all I did was drop everything I could and just be there, watch her, absorb her.

I’ve said it many times before and I’ll say it again – I do not miss Bangalore in the way I imagined I would (we do tend to picture the worst in our head for reasons best known to us). It doesn’t hurt and neither do I pine for it. But little did I realize the small voids I was carrying in me when I left… In the hurry to feel as at home as possible and as soon as possible, I overlooked the fact that these small actions were the ones that made a home feel like home. It isn’t really the place as much as it is the people and the things we do that make a place feel like home. Flowers, clean sheets, folded freshly laundered clothes, incense sticks, lamps, a dal’s tadka, soft hands, that touch, that serenity, pickle, her soft cheeks, tea and toast, arguments and bickering, music (I do not play as much music for some strange reason), the rustling of the newspaper’s pages, her habit to munch, a bottle of cool water and some sweet biscuits by her bed for the night… that’s home.

And that, I will always miss, now since I’ve left home to make my own. However, I know that I have arrived…that I am not hanging in the middle, feeling lost.

I did have the time to come and write, but with all this going on, I didn’t even realize which date of the month we were on. She left and I feel a lot fuller now; a lot less incomplete…an incompleteness that only your mother can fill…and a lot ready and charged to get back into my routine.

And just to make it feel more real and homey; both of us coincidentally made batches of ghee (clarified butter) today.

From Homesickness To Newness

29 Dec

One of the many things I’ve (almost genetically) taken from my maternal grandfather, and proudly so, is the habit to have all the possible doors, windows, curtains and lights at home open/on; by default, come rain or shine or wind storms, if you must. Therefore it’s not really a Bangalore or Delhi thing to do (as I’d imagined), because while each respective place has its own characteristic mannerisms of ventilation mechanisms and such, this is something I know has come directly from nana. My memories of him encompass his need for fresh air, light and a delightful crispness in his surroundings, and so it isn’t a surprise to find the same practice being followed even now – it’s something I cannot do without and is a very important part of my should and must list of things to do that Albert Ellis (of Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy fame) would’ve loved to have a look at and perhaps even treat. So if you ever randomly walk by a street in the city of my residence and find windows and doors open (safety precautions considered) when all others are closed, you’re very likely to have reached me. There are no two doubts about it. My house help’s distress at the same is of course another debate, what with me feeding the house copious amounts of cold winter breeze and everything that comes along with it.

In connection with my previous post, I’m still (quite) actively seeking connections of home, here. So while I skipped eating from a roadside (and rather shady looking) stall named ‘South Indian Fast Food’ as much as I wanted to run to it and munch through vadas at 30 bucks a pair, I do subconsciously look for places that remind me of Bangalore in their own way. While I dare-say that NCR (National Capital Region) has its fare share of greenery which can compete with that of Bangalore’s, it’s not a trend to find hangout spots situated in green spaces as they are more easily found in Bangalore. Here’s a precious spot that brought in the warm fuzzies of happiness and an allegiance of comfort that was too good to let go of and not capture.


In between missing home and the barrage of everything that’s packed into missing home, there’s also considerable time and effort spent in understanding the nuances of living with somebody who is family but isn’t like the family you grew up with; someone who is in your very close personal space like no one else has been and whose space you are in; someone whom you love but haven’t figured out the different ways of loving or expressing love through, yet; someone who feels like home and a room mate all in one. It’s baffling (still is and will be to me), challenging, intriguing and interesting; a test, a journey, an experience that (I presume) has been put into place by this universe because of its profound teaching and self-awareness capacities.



So I’m taking this project of getting to know each other, or in non-geeky terms – dating – as seriously as I can. I must admit that it’s been quite a while and my concepts seem and feel ancient sometimes; however, that isn’t a deterrent. Neither is the fact that going on dates can be so expensive if you like to fancy it up now and then. While I love fancying it up whenever possible, the feeling of being together over cups of chai and conversations, a lot of comfortable silence – sometimes over a drive or under a tree or even standing in the kitchen soaking in some sunlight – or bursting into a song together, is just paramount. The discovery that we’re in a state of absolute being, minus pretence and effort, is beautiful.

Through the process I’ve also learnt how to never have preconceived notions about romance and what have you. It’s as simple as understanding and following the most basic rule of all – the law of subjectivity (which we apply so conveniently to ourselves and not the other person). Of course you already knew that! But guess who’s new on the block and like I said, it’s been such a while. So discoveries, bumps, speed-breakers and surprises galore, I’m walking the dating path with my husband. And it feels cute just having typed that out itself.


As long as it makes your heart and soul flutter with joy and as long as it also hurts – in equal parts together, you know it’s the real deal, and so I guess it should be.

Adult Baby Steps

10 Dec

It’s strange how things eventually end up happening; sometimes in accordance to your plan and sometimes in its own way; but always, I’ve realized, for a reason and a good one at that (in retrospect, most often).

I’m newly married and it feels surreal to even be typing these words out. I never really saw myself as being married even though I’ve been one of those from the flock who was open to the idea of this entire concept. Now when I look back at the past months, I wonder in amazement at just how it all happened. It’s a scary step and it’s the closest thing to reality that you can walk towards (and one my generation is infamous for running away from; I can speak in confidence about myself at least).

It’s marvellous just how many pre-conceived notions we carry along with us and burden our already heavy bags with, furthermore. Naturally we all want to feel as prepared (mostly for the worst) and being the way we are, our need to stay in control and know it all is for the safety and security we rely so heavily on. That buffer can feel so comfortable; enough for any one of us (sceptics) to take the plunge into anything outside our comfort zone.

And so did I. I sponged in all that I could from the ones who mattered and didn’t matter. I made mental check-lists and even argued my way through things I thought were too redundant and obsolete for my own image. And of course, I prepared myself to be the biggest cry baby there ever could be.

But things just happened. Conversations and plans glided past and merged into one another as days flipped by like a calendar on drugs (I kid you not!). In this whirl, we all got together and saw this big fat Indian shaadi (wedding) through. I make it sound like it is a big deal because hell yeah it is. Of course being the bride gave me the upper advantage of being cushioned into oblivion as my world spun around, doing what had to be done. And while it all went smoothly and beautifully, I’m still to gather all the gossip and details of every behind-the-scene-drama that occurred.

Here I am right now, still mentally going through everything that happened. Having been delivered to the “other side”, I can only say with surety that come what may, every story is its own and just how it is to be for us. Pre-conceived notions aside, it’s empowering to know that this life is as much ours as the next person’s; and that we’re here for as many reasons as we’d like showcased at the very end. Like my mom’s status message rightly says, you cannot begin a journey without taking the first step.

There’s only so much one can prepare themselves with. While we’re progressive and liberal and accountable for our decisions and actions very consciously, I do also believe that there’s a path, a journey and certain experiences guaranteed to our lifetime. And so it’s really just okay to let go and take the wave as it comes. I think I’ve robed myself with 9,374 life-jackets which I hold onto very dearly, but what the heck, let’s see how it goes. Change is always so discomforting but then it feels like the universe is taking off one life-jacket at a time just so we know what it really feels like to swim on our own, using the faculties that we gain along the way; spluttering and cursing, drowning and learning how to float all in one.

It’s the experience of learning how to walk all over again; except now we have the tools, understanding and potential to comprehend and be aware of just what it must’ve felt like when we all took our very first step, back when the world was just as new, scary and enthralling enough to get up and move against all odds.

Bubble Shift

9 Dec

The last time I wrote here, I was single and very comfortably cocooned in my bubble. Now I’m in a new city, with a newish semblance of life itself and most importantly, armed with a husband (whose laptop is taking a bit longer to get used to than I envisioned). It’s just the beginning so I’ve no answers, no questions, no understanding…just a little bit of strength to ride this wave and see where it takes me.

Of course there’s a lot that has happened (haha!) and therefore a lot to potentially write about. I wish discipline were more my friend than someone who avoids me like the plague, especially when it comes to putting my thoughts in order.

At this very moment, I’ve made a chance escape from the necessity to keep a house and chosen to land up here, because today’s that day when all I feel like doing is putting my feet up. And to think this ride just began, haha!

It’s been a whirl so far and I still haven’t been able to process the whirlwind of events that took place. It feels surreal, almost dream-like. To imagine that so many months’ worth of efforts have culminated in an event that feels like it has already long passed is a strange feeling. I presume the bride and bridegroom seldom register anything till much later. Let’s see how that eureka shapes up.

For now, I’m floating along and wondering if this is really real.

Missing, In Action

17 Aug

In this one month of my being missing but certainly not being out of action, there have been countless times when I’ve wanted to make a run for the laptop in order to write and document everything I wanted to write. I realize that most of my posts have beginnings with this theme, historically. However, apart from the fact that my physical proximity to the laptop wasn’t always assured during these moments of wanting to write, the urgency to come here and write got trumped by the conflict of witnessing the experience in its entirety versus skipping along to document whatever I was witnessing. Think of it as trying to capture moments on your camera in the need to hold on to them forever without actually having experienced the moment in its entirety at all because you were too busy thinking about how to make it look, feel and documented. Happens a lot, doesn’t it? You emerge with what you think/believe and perhaps are amazing moments captured, except looking at that picture seldom elicits the response it would have had it been experienced untouched. Call me old-fashioned, but I do believe in that philosophy. And that’s exactly where we’re not headed because there’s such an urgency to capture everything in the attempt of keeping it forever that you forget to live in the moment. Ironic are our advanced ways of keeping things permanent. Don’t we know that even memories aren’t permanent?

I digressed. But I needed to make that point because as opposed to coming here and writing about every single event at the gain of higher stats, followers and readers, sometimes it makes better sense to take a seat back and harness the actual ability to look back, recollect and be able to weave your words from those concretised memories/experiences. It’s clear that this blog doesn’t follow a primary tenet of blogging – that of being regular in order to gather your reader base and so on. I’m presuming there are an infinite number of blogs out there and that we all really do not actually have the interest nor inclination to peruse through the masses – we’ve just run out of time and/or would rather spend our time attending to the added activities in our daily life that we believe makes it more promising to live, I suppose. Unless you’ve got a kickass blog that’s magnetized the world; which this is clearly not. So we’re safe here. I don’t feel weighed down by the burden of keeping up as such.

Talking about time, it has been of the essence off late because there’s wedding work I’m thinking about doing but haven’t actually gotten down to doing because my thoughts of just how much there is to do bog me down and I try finding respites as much as I can. Escapist me. Between fast fading mental checklists that haven’t even made it on an excel sheet or Evernote, there was something else that took over my life the past few weeks – five seasons of Game of Thrones. Yes. Don’t even bother guessing which took precedence over the other and waste your energy, will you?

Never having been a fan of history, forget shows of this kind, a friend brought it my way and asked me to have a watch (she had only S1) just so we could engage in a dialogue about the show and its similarities to our society today. Despite having attempted a watch much earlier on and failing miserably to move past minute 2.5, I decided to give it a try because I clearly had nothing else to do or to spend my time on. Weddings can take a backseat, apparently. And wedding plans did so take a backseat as I gobbled up one slow episode after another. Needless to say, I hated some, loved some, loathed some, wished for some to be tortured, hoped for the safety of some and of course, fell hopelessly in love with only Jon Snow. Thank you, dear television show people, that was a fine way to reward the world that loved Jon Snow ever so much.

So GoT took me by the collar and made me sit by the laptop till I finally emerged to conquer all the backlogs I had left. I’m not sure what about it made the world go ga-ga over it, unless of course it was Jon Snow, in which case, I’d agree and join the ga-ga bandwagon happily. That apart, yes, someone did say how our society today and the one in GoT is similar. I’d like to agree. Of course we pretend to be more civilized and responsible and all that jazz, but really, who are we kidding? It’s a nice watch, this one. Its episodes are about an hour long each, with ten episodes a season. So do dedicate 50 hours of your precious life if you must and perhaps you may emerge a fan too. Of course you can do other things like make arrangements for your wedding, in case you are getting married. No one will judge you for choosing the latter, I’m certain.



Somewhere between seasons 4 and 5, because I now measure units of time by my GoT watching activity, I went on that much needed, and my very first, South Indian road trip. It was more marvelous and the pictures half capture the real depth of the blue in the sky and the actual fluffiness of those clouds. And the luscious green and the blackness of the tar. And no, I’m not talking about colour enhancers.

It’s good to take off. I believed it was the stuff existential and annoying Facebook quotes were made up of, except that when the time comes, take off you must. Wind in the hair and all.


FullSizeRender (2)

People always ask the cliched “Are you a mountain or sea person?” question, guilty as charged here as well. Of course some people have a ready answer. Me? Sometimes I think I was born to be confused because of course there are no ready answers. There is just beauty and more beauty and it’s all about experiencing the magic of it all. Nature is tangible magic, I believe, therefore sponging up my dose of magic as and when I can is something I’m always on to. Imagine a hound on a trail, if you must. Except, let’s substitute violence and gore with calmness and peace.


It’s really that simple. The promise of the luxury of time, peace, happiness and mojitos on a hot, monsoon afternoon… I think it’s a darn good bargain. Until you wake up from your reverie and see those fast-fading checklists come back to light because you realize that a wedding, one’s own wedding, needs to be attended to.


The Big, Fat, Indian Shaadi. It’s nearing though it still hasn’t struck the shores of my consciousness yet. Complete with real-life drama, entertainment, a gazillion people, conflicts, rona-dhona, reminisces, freaking out sessions, navel-gazing moments, forceful growing up situations, happy and dreadful shopping sprees, over enthusiasm which seldom involves the couple and so on, it’s hard to not be a part of the crazy bandwagon. Before you know it, you’re on it and you’re moving along, mostly clueless about where you’re heading.

So yes, Indian weddings, they are a completely different ball game together. Even for those who think they’ve got it all covered.

All the best to those mental checklists I still haven’t penned down out of the fear that they will never end.


22 Feb

It’s her wedding day today.

She was nervous, excited, happy and super hungry.

She prayed for her single girlfriends.

She looked beautiful.

She looked ready to take on married life.

She made an amazing bride.

Her wedding is the only one that has made me cry.

Her wedding is something I was looking forward to since time immemorial.

Her wedding went as perfectly as it could.


Here’s a sneak peek of the event!

It’s truly been a blessed day.

Thank you. :)