Mumbai Diaries: Knight in distress

In the dark of one winter night, he sat waiting to be rescued from the shadows of the past. The unhappiness spread from childhood to his recent past. The knight has fallen well manicured to the ground. His cowl top under the shield has a tear giving way to his hairless chest. He looks up toward the only light in the street showing his Greek god gorgeous face and flaunting his well shaped eye brows and glossy lips. He is waiting with baited breath for the damsel on the white horse to rescue him. And…

This doesn’t sound like your usual fairytale right! I know, and neither does the usual man these days. When I speak about men today, it is completely out of experience that they have decided to change places with the women. And somehow women have again given in to the modern day man’s whims. From the time of the women have decided to wear the pants, men have somehow lost their sheen a little (I am understating it, I know). You might wonder why I am ranting here. Well, as a kid I was told in the fairytales about the man who was all macho, brave, didn’t cry, was the one in-charge, took care of everything and everyone, didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeves and much more, which now seem to be the qualities of the medieval age.

Men now are like Mr D, who even post 30 seem lost for an urge to have an ambition and seem to think that the first strongly oriented woman who comes his way is the woman he is going to cry on the shoulders of. 

Earlier I used to find the sensitivity of a man a refreshing change. Oh how sweet he can confess to his weaknesses, how nice he can cry and crib easily like men were never really human in every woman’s mind.

Mr D is a modern day man. Well manicured, good pedigree, suave, and the kind you will feel automatically attracted to when you meet him for the first time. He has the ability to keep you hooked on to him with his charming smile and knowledge. That’s when you thank god for small mercies and ignore the fact that he is a narcissist. “Being a narcissist is good business sense!” he had explained to me. So here I was, basking in the glory of what God had kept wrapped for me and away from the rest of the world – Mr D. And yet, there’s this bloody nudging conscious of mine sitting in a hammock in my head and looking at me as if I have missed the obvious.

A few days of knowing and a couple of dinners later, I was finally ready to snarl back at my conscious when he started talking. Before I go ahead, here’s the thing. When women say, we got to talk… it is generally a piece of gossip or a tragedy stricken story. When men say we got to talk… it generally means business. But here I had forgotten that this man knew his GUCCIs from GAPs.

“It is strange but I feel I can talk to you about anything, it is like I have known you for so long!” Oh that line gives me the creeps, but in Mr D’s case, I let it pass. “You know you make me realise that not everything can be bad all the time. Light does shine on you someday or the other.” I was officially lost by this time (read – not mesmerised but lost). “I had a horrid childhood, a not so good teen and I have never been able to sustain a relationship. But with you, it all seems possible. You can change things for my life, I can see it.” And I couldn’t! While my conscious constantly kept giving me a I-told-you-so smirk, I had to spin my head around the fact that this man was actually asking me to take care of him. So I am the nanny now? And here I was looking for someone equal and this one was offering me the pants with tassels attached. “I have been an unhappy man for a very long time. I know we might seem like a mismatch, but I know we can work it out wonderfully. “Hang on, mismatch for sure, he is needy and I am not ready to indulge that. I still asked him what he meant by the oh-so-obvious mismatch. “Not to offend you or anything, but I know I am a good looking guy. I know this because I am very critical about my looks. And you… well you are cute. And while I know when we walk into a restaurant, like today, a lot of head turn around and wonder why I am not with the sexy model. But for me, looks don’t matter!” My conscious fell from her hammock in shock and I couldn’t suppress my smirk. I had to tell him, to break this needy modern day man’s bubble and so I do. 

“Well Mr D, you are right… and you are so observant. I like the fact that you are honest and forthcoming. I am glad that you are comfortable talking to me. So sweet of you and yet… I still feel that you missed two major points.” Mr D kept smiling and asked me what the points that were missed are. “Oh Mr D, the two most important things I look for in a man, are compassion and intelligence. And you lack both. Just because you are good looking doesn’t mean that I will compromise on these two important qualities and adjust. While my dear Mr D, you are a modern day man, I am absolutely the modern day woman!”

And they lived happily ever after… separately… the END    

Mumbai Diaries... Borderline 30, Single and Happy?

There are no reasons to silly giggles when girls are complimented by guys and then the blush. Somehow I was never the blush-on-compliments kinda girl. In fact, when complimented I look for catch words in the conversations to change the topic. Maybe that’s the way I blush. Hopeless indeed!

But I have seen some very unusual ways in which women react to them (compliments by men) and their cheesy lines said in all good humour to either get a great night or a beginning to a great life. At least I would like to think so! A very dear friend of mine, who generally has a verbal diarrhea, is always lost for words and red in the face when complimented by a guy. She is your very typical girlie girl who loves her hair falling perfectly on her shoulders, dress not creased, hands manicured, feet pedicured and face always ready to blush with a fixed smile. She is the type guys take for movies, hold hands, watch concerts, make-out but never reach the third base and eventually get married out of curiosity. I really like to observe this type as they are the most animated in conversations, entertaining with details and rest assured the dominant part of their brain focuses on shopping and men. In all humbleness I am not mocking them, I like them a lot because they are the friends who listen to your listless cribbing about work and then become very optimistic and tell you that the solution to everything is, “You need to make space for a man in your life!”

So here I am sipping my cappuccino with an extra shot and no sugar when he comes tottering on her skyscrapers that makes me feels giddy thinking about the vertigo I might have if I was wearing those. “I need your help!” OK, about this part… this type only needs help when they are either having a bad hair, nail or dress day or trouble with men in their lives. I generally don’t feel very indulgent in such scenarios, but this one has a special ability to make a needy puppy face every time she needs my unsolicited advice.

“This guy I have been dating for a month is too dominating. He even wants me to dictate what I wear!” her exasperation was nothing close to mine. It was as if she had used the magic words to trigger my button of anger. A bit about my type! Partial feminist, generally logical, hate shopping and have zilch patience for stupidity… not the mix men like these days, and yet for some weird reason we don’t lack the attention. We generally get attention from the needy, greedy and loony loners who think that we are the kind to mother them by being their partner. So while we don’t get enchanted by a dominating Fifty Shades of Grey, we also don’t give in to the black sheep either. We are very much straight and secretly hopeful!

I told my friend how she is a beautiful independent woman who can always choose what she wants to do and what not to do. That she needs to fix him a little by telling him that he can’t go all out being “I am your daddy” on her. While she agreed with me, she also said something that made me wonder and write this all. “M… I don’t want to be with the single tag when I turn 30. I don’t want to be the woman who has been around, tested men and then ended up single because she could never compromise. As amazing as it is to be single, one always needs a partner to go home to beyond a point. And I am at that point!” Lost for words all I could do is order for more coffee.

Is this how most borderline 30 year old women think? How come I haven’t thought about it? Or have I not had time in my piles of work to think about it? Or have I thought about it from time to time and brushed off the issue? My friend left announcing that she will talk to her guy, but compromise and work it out as well. While she did find a solution to her choking heart, I was left with too many questions of my own for my choking brain. This was the very Carrie Bradshaw 'Single And Fabulous?' moment of mine.        

Mumbai Diaries…

I believe that if Delhi is a city of posh bearings, Mumbai is a city of bare essentials. Metaphorically so! I have almost completely two years in the maximum city and figured that I have the ability to like it after being an ardent lover of the capital. 14 years of being in the ‘not officially tagged’ heritage city, I moved to Mumbai because of work. The divide of the cities is very clear when you start working here. No stare-cases, no eve teasing, heavy moral policing and very health conscious people. But then, this is not what my new series of blogs is going to be about. It is about relationships that bind us in different ways and move along us to shapes us for our future version with grey hair (hopefully full growth remains). Keep the current time in mind, here I go…

THE FROG THAT LOVES TO SHOP!

I was told by a very hot looking Tam-Bram guy, “you have to kiss many frogs in the pond to finally find the prince.” He was calling himself a frog by the way! For most single people looking out for a fling or a relationship or whatever you prefer to call it, seems like a thing to do when you are not working. At least this is the nature of the city I inhabit now, Mumbai. Here people are either committed or looking. The word single seems to have taken a backseat. So while I have been single since it was discovered that Pluto is not a planet, I complete was in love with that status until very recently.

You don’t figure out how much to crave to be with someone till you are reminded that you can be someone’s someone. Just like Ingrid Michelson’s song, Are We There Yet! So I was told very recently that I have the ability of being that someone to a very North Indian, fair-n-lovely kinda fella. He is, let’s just say, the opposite of what attracts me when it comes to physical appearance. But when did I say I am perfect.

So after a quick nibble at a restro-bar, me and Mr Fair-n-lovely decided to head for a coffee shop for some casual talk. Only if I knew that I am going to be asked out officially soon, I would have made an effort at least to fix my kajal and lip-gloss and not looked a road-run after a long day’s work. But then I always think of these things when I am home and look at myself in the mirror and ask, “What attracted him!”

We settled for a coffee shop in Juhu and started our conversation about work. He is a workaholic, just like me. He like challenges in job, just like me. He is the only child of his parents, just like me. He loves music, just like me. He loves reading fiction, just like me. He loves to shop, just like… no, not like me. ah… well… this was the bitter reminder of my first boyfriend who could spend hours together looking for formal trousers and end up buying a bag and then saying that we need to go shopping for the trousers. When did men become the shopaholics? And why wasn’t I warned before? While I confessed to my displeasure for shopping, his jaw dropped, like I had uttered the last words he wanted to hear me say. He pursed his lips and asked me awkwardly, “So what do you do when you need clothes, bags, and other daily important things?”  Of course, I get those only when need be. But as far as pleasure of the same is concerned, I let my mother do the dirty work.

We had our coffees in silence after that. This was the exact opposite of what our dinner had been like. From “where have you been all this while” to “what’s wrong with you” took only 40 minutes to happen.

He offered to drop me home, but I declined and he didn’t insist. While going back in the rick and lighting my cig, I realised that this was not going to go anywhere. The deal breaker here was shopping. Did I like him enough to shop? Or did he like me enough, not to push me to shop? The answer’s NO!

All pictures in this blog are mere representation of the theme and do not bear resemblance to anyone in particular

What happened to the good old MAN, who hated shopping, indulged a woman, took pride in his chest hair (certain Mr Kapoor not included), didn’t know what really were manicure and pedicure and was strong enough to make a woman depend on him. Sigh! Or have we women become too masculine for these men to handle? The confusion continues and no does the quest because now I am ready to fish in the pond of frogs!   

The truth be told…

The fog that grows amongst us all,

Nursing the frost bites that won’t heal for long,

Still searching for the words of my lost songs,

Wondering which way did you go now,

Thirsty for the truth that grows hazy with every step I take,

Miseries of my loved one keep me away from making mistakes,

I cringe, I cry, I bruise easy… and I wonder why,

I feel like a leaf floating in the river passing by,

It is not easy to follow the footprints in sand,

It is not easy to chase the shadows in the wind,

I am hungry for truth… when will it be told,

I am thirsty for peace… which will leave me stoned,

The maniacal laughter makes me shudder at night,

Will anyone ever get it right?

Caged in my own will for the victory of truth,

I have lost that little girl I used to be in hues…

Love was never my forte because I have always been on a run,

And yet the memories of green and brew make my mind go numb,

Was it two steps behind or two steps ahead of me, plain?

Was it the boat or just me that drowned away in vain?

Traffic... with no signals

Very recently, I have been mapping the city and the NCR quite a bit because of my new job. Client meetings, grabbing a coffee and a bite to eat, road, sun-sets, rains, fog, messages, calls, BBMs, facebook, mails, ,more mails, traffic, noise, road rage, coke studio, coke, double-date, smoking, not smoking, fights, smiles, hugs, hunger, and so much more. Grammatically such a long sentence in an English language essay is a sin, so come to life… what can I say! If we crib about the traffic on the road at peak hours, then what do we do about the traffic in our head? And especially when you feel every emotion at the same time – love, confusion, guilt, withdrawal, anger, frustration and helplessness. Now you would think I am PMSing… well really dude these days it is Pre, Present and Post. So basically PERMANENT for most women and men as well (trust me). All I want to do the end of the day is have a bubble bursting word-game over the phone with Mr Hair Gel (you’ll know I don’t like naming people in my blogs), do a bit of farming on my virtual farm on FB (judge me as much as you want, I know you do it too) and sleep hugging my pillow and missing a jacket lately.

But today I chose not to do that! There was too much confusion, commotion and traffic in my head today. I try very hard to blabber it all out to the loving creatures I have around me, who do love me back and can be very patient listener surprisingly. But I feel very lost for words at that time. It is like finding a title for a poem you wrote about your favourite pen and somehow you end up with something as straight as “My Red Pen”. Jeez not that I ever wrote a poem like that! All this so-called “thinking” happed after I could not make it for my most favourite part of the evening… coffee break at CCD Taj Palace.

I realized that while I was in such a rush to make my perfect scrapbook memories, I missed out on the fact that I might not have this forever. I never believed in the saying, “Life is like an ice cream. Enjoy it before it melts.” I have always like things permanent. But here I am happy being a phase of a phase. Don’t get me wrong, I am not cribbing. I am just surprised with myself. Five years back when I was in love, I had felt the same, it is just that then I had wanted the end… not this time.

How lovely the colour green looks. It is my favourite colour these days. And yet it is the colour of envy. I do envy a lot of people. My friends who stay with their parents, my friends who are still away from the marriage pressure and one more person. This is one colour that makes you feel more human than most others. And reminds you that life never has a fairytale ending… neither will mine.

Morbid... Me!!!

Tyrant minds of the feathered folks,

Breaching the Unspoken vows,

Sleeping beneath the unjust sea of emotions,

Lacking the lust of tormented minds,

Blinded by the social norms,

I parade the path of staggering myths,

Long ago i head the tale of the king,

The queen and the estrange mate's gaze,

The irony i felt in the life's crazy tricks,

And I smelt the perfume of death sentence,

For i knew all and none knew me,

Far gone were the life's mysteries.

Withered away… without a sign!!!

You withered away like an autumn leaf,

While I prayed for you to stay,

How far you’ve gone for my shadow’s reach,

It is now tough to even measure the nights and the days in which you sleep,

I look at stars for a twinkle like yours,

Or a radiant smile,

But you are gone… without a note or even a parting line,

I try to tell myself it is true,

But I still feel so numb and I still hear the blues,

I am scared… you might not come back… to see me wither with silver and lines,

When I am too old to remember you and you are not around to be mine.