Thursday, August 26, 2010

August, toxic August

"I'm going to think of him as having gone fishing.. because if I think I will never hear his voice again, I won't know how to live."

Family friend, Small Devil lost her father two weeks ago. She believes the fishing line. We, the family friends, who take her out for a drink in the weeks after, raise a toast to he, who as they say, is up there somewhere. Every bit the stylish general holding a cigarette so damn loosely, in his classy clothes and languid demeanour, puffing away, making light of life, petting his fox terriers and spaniels, riding those horses, hanging about in the outdoors and being gently self deprecating.

He'd have approved of how much wheat beer went down because some fools got a little emotional about how the good ones go too soon. He might even have said it was too early to go home.


Howzzat, where we drank, smells of pubic hair and plays RHCP. They don't let you carry your beer mugs to the smoking room. And if you're me, some boy in tight jeans and bright sneakers will swipe your matchbox without asking. Then you have to go to his table and be deadpan-saccharine in asking for it back, if he doesn't mind, of course.

Boorish fuckers.

Meanwhile my boyfriend and I are having problems. We're a little bit on a break and a little bit broken up. Don't say huh, I have no idea what it means either. Hardly the thing to announce on a public platform, given that we don't want Facebook statuses to change yet. But if I can yap on about how he's the guy I want to get married to, I jolly well man up to say, uh oh, we're in trouble, right? So there you have it. Turns out I don't have the ability to compartmentalise and write about something else, without this stuff spilling over. Shame on me.

He -- and some days I say "my ex" -- has been refreshing his feed reader to see if I finally wrote about it. Knowing myself, that's enough reason for mule me to not emit a squeak. Except in keeping with knowing mule myself, sooner or later, but especially later, I would've got down to squeaking.

Look at me now, self aware, sad-eyed squeaker.

I still don't have a fix on things. I'm not sure what is wrong. The reasons are as vague as not feeling a certain way. Naturally then, when I talk about it to friends, I've been getting advice from every corner. Friends -- because well-wishers is a fuck-all phrase -- have told me to:

  • Shut up and sort it out (mm hmm)
  • Nobody feels the same way after a while (is this true even?!)
  • A break is good (Yea...)
  • Don't do anything stupid (Refer to 'g'?)
  • Are you PMS-ing? (No)
  • Did you have a fight with your mother? (No)
  • Did you sleep with someone else? (No)
  • If you're not feeling it, you're not feeling it. (Next.)
  • Maybe you need a madder person; try an artist (phhrbht!)

and the scariest:

  • The excitement, if that's what you're missing, always wears out; boredom is inevitable

Shoot me. And I remove the parenthesis for this one, even.

There was also a whole lot of advice about how I should listen to my heart and not my head. And what if my stomach has an opinion, I ask you.

Only a circumstantial disclaimer, but friends should be done away in times of mild personal distress. That's what we're calling it. Too many have an opinion. And yet it's what I go looking for. I have long emails and still longer phone calls and there there shoulder rubs from people who know my looking up at the 17th floor, long-exhale, misty look.

Of course, I'm fine. As fine as I am defensive. But what if I'm not fine? Will you be able to tell just because I smile every time I see a colleague yelling at incompetent IT people because the damn Internet in office never works? Or is it that I can't help love the line item yeh aam hui, darling tere liye?

What a song.

But surely all indicators aren't external. What if mauling a horribly designed plastic fork at is my version of coping?

Who's to say I'm ok? Surely not bemused dinner companions at Subway offering to feed me if that'll make me not fight with the cheap, zero-ergonomic-sense cutlery I have to deal with in this dug-up, third world, AC's-not-working, humid-as-hell city.


Last few weeks, in case you were wondering, every bloody chat has been about relationships, boys and other such delightful matters of the state.

I'm told if I have even the teeniest doubt about how much fun the ride will be, or how much I'm enjoying myself, I should stop and reassess my surroundings -- that's the other label I've adopted.

And so that's where we are. Using disclaimers and reassessing our surroundings, without even a therapist tossing wellness jargon at us. Every thing's changing. My people are going away. And I still have the wherewithal to make this shit up on my own.

My cousin, in her forties, mother, love marriage before 25, said to not fall into the trap of this new age 'lets give each other space' bullshit. She's probably right. I should have been a village belle, married at 18, to some taller than me idiot who just wanted 2 sons and a slim-wasted babe who could pull off a sari and three times a year, dive for his parents' feet.

Two of my friends are getting married at the end of the year. We did a girlie night spend. And they told me, across a dining table and over whiskey, Corona, with a slice of lemon wedged in, with good Marwari food -- chana chawal and geele aloo ki sabji -- that a relationship shouldn't be all hard work. That I shouldn't think foolishly that the marriage will be great, even if the relationship doesn't feel like it, "because marriage is the relationship".

To that, I nod. I listen. I agree. I zone out. And just like I have been doing the last few weeks when I could've been blogging, I sigh and say hmmmm and yeaaaa and pout.

I also do a lot of pushing it out of my mind and temporary forgetting. The we'll see what happens. The lets play it by ear. The lets talk about something else. The who's hungry? The what's the plan? Because the advantage of being someone with an attention span of an infant on acid -- and this is not my phrase but a testimonial, on what was it, Orkut? -- is that my moods tend to be to be like TV channels. Switch, drama, flick, comedy, ooh look Pussycat Dolls, news, news, music, movie, till you tune out.

I feel like an idiot for just doing the oh-look-at-me-so-happy-because-it's-been-2-years-post. But that was what I felt then -- all of what, 2 months ago, and this is what I feel now. It's been brewing. Brewing, pushing under carpet, brewing, pushing under carpet. That's how the penny's been falling.

Maybe I'm just a cow creating my own excitement knowing that if we sort this shit out, the sex will be 43 times more intense. Maybe I'm serious. Maybe I have had enough. Or that I'm bored. And that I'm too young to be thinking this is it. For Chrissake, I'm a good looking, spunky, compassionate, if slightly brattish, twit. There have to be some suckers out there. And there will be. They might love a cheap song and a good Bloody Mary, even.

But my other beef is, will any of them really deserve me or will I always only feel that about this pianist who's doing yoga because I asked him to get off his ass and tone it down?

Look at me, and I like that phrase, all modest and baring my soul, not bothering to change my Facebook status, because as we'd decided, there's no reason to jump the gun.


My birthday's coming. I turn 26 on September 1. For the second time in a post, shoot me. With a long barrel gun. To the skull. And make it quick. I don't feel a day older than 13. Except for a richer vocabulary, some cross referencing, phenomenal texting while driving skills and an attitude I picked up from a gutter along the way.

If you could save me the daily restlessness of, among other things, seeing my once trendy short crop grow out into the chaos it is in now, I'd like to be fed them good drugs.


Perakath said...

Whoops. Bad luck. There, there.

Perakath said...

(This is not a comment.)

The Unbearable Banishment said...

Boy, I was really going to lay into you. Give you the old “where the hell have you been“ routine. How dare you, etc., etc. They you come out with all this blues news. The death of people. The death of love. My god! Now I can’t say a word about your absence. I’ve got news for your nutty friends. OF COURSE relationships are a lot of work. Thinking they’re not is, frankly, a little naive. Wait ‘til you’re married for a number of years. You’ll see some changes, all right. Some of them for the better, actually.

26? Is that all? Braggart.

That girl in the video would snap me in half. She’d be the death of me both physically and emotionally. Yes, please, I’d like some more. What is that line?

heh? ok said...

Happy birthday, nevertheless. I like September. And gawd. I really wish happiness could be as simple as a pair of puffed sleeves.

Nimpipi said...

Per: Why is your second comment always a non comment? But whoops is right. You tell. How's it hang, lawyer man?

Un B: Heh. Aren't I smart coming out with the boo hoo blues instead of a more thwack-able post like, oh i dunno, the discovery of a new nail polish colour? And anyway, this way I get more sympathy :P

26 is depressing! I know it's been a while since you were back here, but come on, the horrible feeling of youth slipping away? Do you not remember it?! Can you honestly tell me growing old is a miracle of nature? I dare you to pull that one on me, especially now when I'm all vulnerable and sobby. Ha!

The girl in the video is a certain Malaika Arora Khan. She makes a lot of boys very happy. The cop in the video, oh he's her brother in law. Don't you love how our Hindi films gets raunchier by the day! Item yeh aam hui darling tere liye loses charm when translated but item= knockout, like item bomb; aam = common/ every body's/ local whore; darling, you know that; and tere liye = for you. Roughly she's singing in the third person that she became a whore for you darling.

Fabulous, is it not?:D I'll send you a song called bidi. That's another number with these killer lines.

Heh: Puffed eyes is more like it these days, but thank you love. Birthday is birthday. :)

Anonymous said...

So Brave So Brave

Cinna the Poet said...

Just because I didn't recognise any part of my feeble-posing-as-smartass advice listed in the bullet points does not mean that the truth isn't out there. It is, true X-Files fashion. Stop looking for it. You'll laugh and slap its back when it comes along. Non X-Files fashion. Gawd Promise.

Anonymous said...

except that i am 30, i relate to all you say.

of course i was married when this happened, and i was 27... but the feeling was pretty much the same.

i remember loving to spend as much time driving in traffic as possible, because the biggest problem at that time seemed to be how to cut lanes when the car behind me is honking like crazy.

so my only advice would be, if you are taking advice from forget-friends-let-alone-even-well-wishers-but-simply-blog-readers, drive. leave at peak hours, keep driving, reach home, watch mindless reruns of your favorite sitcom, sleep.

being numb helped me.

and then i could act all pricey and get the husband to promise stuff like 'i will never shout at you even when you do' when the reconciliation happened :)

Hope it happens soon for you. Amen.

The Mystic said...

I don't feel a day older than 4! :D I might not know you personally but, I have a PhD in bad experiences and things going wrong, so I just wanna say, take life the way it comes and forget the rest wear a smile on your face and love yourself.

Btw, Happy Birthday!

P.S. the thing about life is that the biggest and most unsolvable problems, just get solved when you least expect it!

Parul said...

Happy birthday, Nimpipi.

It's hardwired in us, this attempting to soothe people going through personal distress, mild or not. Somehow we cannot just drown the heartbreakee in alcohol and leave it at that. Human nature and all that rot.

Feel better.

Here In Franklin said...

Though I'm sorry about the content, can I just say that this is a fabulous post? Way to show off those writing chops, Nimpipi.

This sentence: "Who's to say I'm ok? Surely not bemused dinner companions at Subway offering to feed me if that'll make me not fight with the cheap, zero-ergonomic-sense cutlery I have to deal with in this dug-up, third world, AC's-not-working, humid-as-hell city."

That tells me more about India than sitting through Eat. Pray. Love.

Rakhi said...

Happy 26th birthday in advance Nimpipi!
You sound very like a man who used to be in my life. :D We are still a little confused about our status! He's dating other women and has been in short term flings with some of them too. I've dated men but never liked anyone as much.
He's in Europe while I'm in India. And I'll be moving to US by the end of the year. I turned 30 yesterday while he's turning 26 later this year!
You could say that the odds couldn't be stacked against us any higher. But well, time reveals a lot of things. I'd say that you keep in touch most definitely but life is about yourself at the end of the day. Whoever's supposed to be a part of your life, just stays. That's what I believe in anyhow. :)
And the attitude seems more dispassionate to me than that from a gutter. ha ha! Enjoy your day though.

Pueblo girl said...

How well you describe the limbo of waiting, waiting for the situation, thoughts and feelings to become clearer. Good luck.

Nimpipi said...

Anon: I know who you are and I saw what you did. Call me. Beer peeeaigaaa!

Cinna Madam: I thought we'd settled this. I am the idiot, remember? Me, iss all mee. Or do I have to thump my chest before you believe all advice given to idiots is pointless; the truth about David Duchovny be out there or not.

Anon: I'm taking advice, of course. I'm listening also. With the intent of incorporating, but it's so much effort!

I am driving. By default. A lot. 3 hours a day. All over. Bare foot. With radio, ipod, whatever. I'm even keeping the ac off. I'm flying over the potholes in Gurgaon. I've driven so much that my central lock doesn't work anymore. I have a bumper to get fixed. But much like the reason for not taking advice, it's too much effort to fix what's wrong. In the car, in the life, in the larger scheme of all that's dramatic etc etc:)

But thank you. I reread what you said. Warmth right back at you.

Mystic: I think I made my sound worse than I am. Hang in there till I do an 'Oh look! sun is shining, birds are singing, love is in the air' post!

And from a 13-year-old to a 4-year old, thank you for the birthday wish. Comments are such fun!

Parul: Why, why, whyyyy can I not drink myself under the table? Please? Only for another three weeks? 'Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder':D I read that on the Tata Sky ka info button for the new fox channel; description for Californication.

The heartbreakee is more sadness than heartbreakee. Unless that is, by definition, heartbreakee. I wouldn't know. Still 25, you see:))

But thankee. In waves, I feel better already.

HIF: Heh. If pained content is what it takes for me to bare my writing chops, then so be it. :D

Can I just say, completely in love with Julia Roberts as I am, you broke my heart with the warning post about Eat, Pray, Movie. I love the book.

I've been thinking now is a good time to pick up the sequel -- 'Committed'. Yeouch, I say! :D

But also, flattered, totally, thank you. blushes

Rakhi: Hello, belated happy birthday! Thirty doesn't seem so scary if you just went through it and survived! =)

I hope things work out with Europe, 26; you do remember what a restless age it is, though, yes? Especially if I sound a lot like him.


Look at me, giving you precious advice when I have no idea what's going on.

Ooh but dispassionate, yes. I'm impressed you got that. I've been accused of that before. And my defence has always been: in Sanskrit, my name-name(not nimpipi) means detachment.

What can I say, gutter or not, I was named well by my father. Which is just this whole other reason why no guy might match up, but I'm going to save the sadness for later. I'll smoke that joint you let slip on your heppy birday:)

Pueblo Girl: Thank you. :) Sometimes I don't know what I feel. One moment, sorted, next moment whoa what happened here?!

And I don't know if those moments of certainty beat the waiting for clarity. Does that make sense even? Tsk. Didn't think so.

Rakhi said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
the mad momma said...

i dont know if i'm qualified to give advice considering i am one of those idiots who was a mother at 26.

that said, can i be the only one who has an opinion - you know, unlike polite people who let you have your space? you guys are great together. give it another shot. people do get bored but it just takes something to spark the interest off again. a holiday together maybe?


chandni said...

go with the flow. Whatever "feels" right, definitely is. being together, or being apart.


Pringle Man said...

Pipi, I've got your back hombre.

It's crazy to be self actualised like you are, EVEN while going through major life events.

Mad respect. I think you're awesome, either way.

Alexia said...

I LOVE this post!!

Alexia said...

And I love the phrase 'deadpan-saccharine'... could I steal it one day?

Kshitij said...

It's the month...
"Bloody August" :(

A said...

hug! isn't it strange how we move from complete confidence in relationships to utter uncertainty? i hope you work it out in your mind and decide. :) (i'm resisting an urge to pour out advice from my personal experience!) all luck.

Anonymous said...

You have summarized my life in one post. Which is pretty depressing. Hope you make it out of this muck.

On another note, happy belated birthday!

Nimpipi said...

Mad Momma: Hello, hello. We're meeting this week, in the Hurryanas. I have a mail of yours to reply to. And when we meet I shall accept the hug and let you talk about spark-sharks.

Chandni: Hello ji. Thank you ji. Going only, with the flow. Little bit getting stuck in the branches that are clogging the river, but this is no time for bad poetry.:) Need to figure out the what feels right bit, and then have the balls to, you know, still go with the flow. Marenge, I say! :)

Pringle babe: It's sad for a break up to get slotted as a major life event. But given how mundane the everyday can be, I suppose it's not unfair. Oh is this what you meant by self actualisation? :) hahaa. Yea. Me = king of cool. Thank you, sweet.

Alexia: Because your comments flatter me more than should be allowed, I give to you with an open heart and no copyright sticks up my ass, ''dead pan saccharine'! Hear the drum roll, baby.

Kshitij: I hear you. September better be better!

A: Strange also, makes you feel like an idiot also! I hope I work it out in my mind and decide, too. Meanwhile, please don't shy away from sharing advice. I know you're being polite and things, but everyone loves a good story. :)

Anonymous: Sigh. Depressing is as depressing does. Even if the muck doesn't disappear immediately, nothing like splashing about in it for a little bit longer. Wallowing! Yes. That's the word, That's what I'm doing. Won't make it a habit though :)

Birthday wasn't too bad. And thank you. Next post = how the birthday girl made a complete ass of herself. Watch this space.

retard said...

Ever thought of some weed.

Thanatos said...

Happy Birthday. A greeting, a month old, is still a greeting? Hope the turmoil is settling down, I have plenty of useless advice I'll keep to myself.