What to do?

What do you do when the child declares "I like you both accha, amma' with a big smile?

Although I do suspect it was because she realised we had made her very favourite paneer for dinner :)

Note to self

You are always alone. There are people. But you are always alone.

A truth that I have been refusing to accept. And with age, the wisdom(!!!) has come to accept the reality. To say to myself that shit remains shit and that I should move on.

To accept that love changes, love diminishes, love dies. But you can move on. Heartbreaks aren't permanent. It might hurt longer, leave a scar but it is not permanent. You can find your old sweetheart on FB, looking perfectly happy with his 2 kids. And yet know he hasn't forgotten you just by the way he tries so hard to stay out of your life.

That there is no absolute freedom. Only degrees of it. And that most of the constraints come from within.

11 years ago there was one such moment when I decided that I am not taking shit anymore and that I will do exactly as I please. And I did. For about 2 years, everything was happy and hungover. But I wasn't prepared for the loneliness that freedom came with.

You can't please yourself and everyone else. I paid a price. But I didn't learn anything. Rather refused to learn. (Something about teacher's kids being dumb eh)

But this time I am older and wiser (!!!) and I do know to pick my battles. And I do know loneliness comes with the territory. I plan to find a way to circumvent it. No fight, no ignoring.

I hope that I move on. Not capitulate.

You are always alone. There are people. But you are always alone.

S

I was not close to her. But we had our moments in the year that we spent together. Her happy, sarcastic, funny, witty self, hid a lot of anger and frustration but she didn't let it come in the way of life.

I saw her on and off a few times in the last 9 years. We made umpteen plans to meet up in the last two years but they never materialised.

All her excuses sounded just that, excuses. Then she visited me a month ago. We talked about things that were of little consequence. She was unhappy I could tell. I knew things were not right. I had heard rumours of depression, attempts at fixing a broken marriage. I knew about her desperation to get back into the 'mainstream' career. But I also knew she was a proud woman who held it all together. The seemingly happy marriages and great careers didn't really make her comfortable enough to confide, reach out. I made no real attempt to reach out either.

For the first time in my life, I told myself this is not my battle, I have too many things to sort out for myself. Surely she has made other friends over the years whom she can reach out to?

But then I heard last Monday that she decided to end it all. She apparently made one last phone call to her husband, said this is it. And that was that. In her own spotless home, surrounded by happy marriage pictures she tied that noose around her neck. An image that refuses to go away.

I was never close to her. But it breaks my heart to think that she had no one to reach out to.

People tell me when you are on the brink of it you don't really want to reach out. Friends and family don't matter. I don't believe that.

May be I am kidding myself by thinking I should've reached out and that may be she would've reciprocated.

But for now all I can think of is how she was sitting across me holding my little girl and I was telling myself it is not my battle.

People also tell me that she may be in a better place now. Are you at peace S?

Mumbai yet again

I have never come close to the terror that Mumbai and its people (and thousands of others right from Kashmir to the North East) have had to live with. I hope I don't have to. And I hope this is last time I have to wonder about how those people felt.

But I do wonder how hard it must be for them. 2 weeks ago Kumar Sangakkara (yes the cricketer from Sri Lanka) delivered a spectacular speech at the MCC on terror and cricket in his country. Everything he said was so profound and genuine, but this line stayed with me - 'parents would take separate buses so that should anything happen, at least one of them will go back to the children.' I cannot think about it without a lump in my throat. That line kept kept coming back to me as I watched inexperienced and experienced journalists ask stupid questions to people who hadn't had time to wash off the dust from all the blasts.

All those people who died yesterday...so many dreams, so many hopes and probably some bitterness came to an end. And someone else decided to end it for them. We'll never know who, why or probably even how.

This is not the post i started out to write. I was generally thinking about all the hoopla around Mumbai forgetting the fears and stepping out and wondering about my own fears. But that list (yes a long one at that) is silly compared what the people of Mumbai and elsewhere feel in a the face of constant fear.

Of all the rhetoric that's floating around, This one made a lot of sense. Battered housewife is a perfect if unacceptable analogy.

And so another Monday went by

Discovered interesting things about a colleague today. Dunno what to make of all the information I have on hand. But glad I know better. I don't think ignorance is bliss when it comes to knowing people.

I am looking for a break on how to take Just Femme forward. That's all I've been thinking about for a while now.

That and how to make the days stretch longer than 24 hours. Neither of the problems are yielding at this point in time.