I Hate Love

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life. You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

It's a Neil Gaiman quote. And I feel he is perfectly correct to the last dot. A small dumb act and your life ain’t yours anymore. You know it is slipping out of your hand. Slowly, steadily; like sand tricking down an hourglass. You watch the reins you were so sure of; lying limply on the floor. The acts of stupidity do not end there. You keep waiting; remorselessly. So that the dumb person can come back and repeat the dumb act just once again. No he won’t. You probably know that more than anyone else. But you still wait. Patiently; hope flared by each ring of your phone, each new mail tag of your inbox.

Life changes, places, friends, offices. The yearning remains the same. You pine for the familiarity of your past. The warmth of the arms that once closed you off from the entire world. The soul and the body which cocooned you promising to be there forever. You close your eyes some nights and you can smell the faint cologne. You can feel the warm breath on your neck. Hear the voice which never professed love. But then both of you had heard the unsaid. It drives you insane; when you open your eyes and don't see the person whom you want the most in your life. And you shrug and carry on as if nothing has ever happened. Secretly you hope for a day when he would comeback. Hold you like before and tell you that he has come back never to go away.

Insane and cruel, that was what love was all about. And I hate it for breaking my heart and tearing it into pieces. ". .  I hate love.”

P.S: I had written this about a year ago when my heart was broken. Written when there were holes as big as the craters in moon. I do not claim that my heart right now is a cardiologist’s dream but I have managed to paste and staple it back into place. Fingers crossed. Now I don’t hate love, just a big wary as to where I put my heart these days.

I say a lot of nasty stuff but my poor heart cannot hate anybody. Even if that “anybody” has roasted my heart in stale cooking oil, my heart forgives. I kind of hate my heart for it. How ironic!

P.P.S: Purba, you told me I’ll make it, I made it.

Cambodia - An Incredible Journey

I’ve lead a very sheltered life. My dad believes that I am one senseless pot who shouldn’t be left alone anywhere. Hence till I got married I was chaperoned almost everywhere.

He was paranoid that I would actually end up in trouble, if left alone, a fact he didn’t know was that his daughter can run like “P.T. Usha” if she smells trouble. Honestly I’m not someone who can invite trouble. I like the words feminism, rebel, brave etc and world for women concept, but if you ask me, it’s more prudent to avoid lunatic lechers if you can. If you come across one that cannot be avoided you might as well try to teach him some manners, else why bother?

So in short I was closely tracked using a mobile phone at every place I went. Here in Singapore the have RFID trackers for pets, thank god in India we don’t have one. My dad would’ve thought of inserting a chip into me. Dad and I have had countless argument on “letting-me-be” and I’ve lost all arguments inadvertently.  I appreciate his efforts in trying to shield my from all the evil and protecting me from getting hurt, but I missed being independent. So I nurtured a dream, a dream to go on a trip by myself. I will be responsible for me. Not my mom or dad or cousin or husband. It’s just going to be I who will run the show.

Friends, comrades, compadres; last month, I lived my dream. I had gone on a girl’s only trip to Cambodia. It was the most unplanned yet the most amazing trip I have ever made. Now if you have noticed the more spontaneous your trip the more fun it is.

Now how did all this happen?

When a friend in Vietnam invited the husbands for a boys-only trip to Vietnam, we the wives (not wanting to be Kalki Koechlin of ZNMD and wanting to get them off our lives for a while) happily agreed. So the big question as to what we will do arised.Having seen enough movies and done enough shopping, we decided to get the hell out of Singapore. And one magical land appeared,”Siem Reap”. So then we decided Siem Reap it is.

How did we plan?

We applied for visas online and got approval the next day. Booked flights and got reference of an Inn from a dear friend. The place we stayed was “Mandalay Inn”; very neat very clean at about 30USD per night. So we had tickets and a place to stay.

Yours truly delved her nose deep into Google and collected material and painstakingly compiled the places of interest into a word document. As if that was not enough I scourged National Library for books on Cambodia. All the data was converted into a word file and printed in to a booklet.(Anyone needs to it please let me know. It’s quite comprehensive which makes me proud of my collating capabilities)

What did we see?

I would need a lot more posts to let you know what we saw in two and a half days. I’ll try to make it short, if you get bored please promptly move to the summary section.

          There is a lot of Hindu and Buddhist influence in the bas reliefs. Some depict stories from Ramayana, Vedas or Mahabharata. You can clearly see the Jataka tales in some and in others Buddha and his teachings. They have also beautifully portrayed the daily life of Cambodians. The scriptures are in Sanskrit in most of the places.

Ta-Phrom,the jungle temple

Of all other temples we visited, one remains endearing, Ta-Phrom, the jungle temple. Though it is not much of a jungle now, it’ has trees and vegetation growing all over it. The restoration of this temple is being done with collaboration with the Archaeology Department of India. It made me proud, just to see the Indian National Symbol display there. It also happens to be one of the locations of Tomb Raider movie.

Beng Mealea- A temple in Ruins

A temple that will haunt me is Beng Mealea.It is in utter ruins and major part of the temple is dilapidated. Unlike the other temples where the restoration works have brought out tangible results, this one is beyond any restorations. Roofs of most structures have caved in. There are large blocks of sandstone lying around like a kid’s Lego pieces that fell out the box. It felt sad to see such a huge structure, which was possibly created with much love, in complete shambles.This temple is about 60 km from the Siem Reap,hence becomes a neglected spot by tourists as well.

There is no doubt which temple gets the price for taking your breathe away. Angkor Wat. The first time I saw the temple, it felt like a dream. Every time I read books with Angkor Wat as a backdrop, I had yearned to go there. But then Cambodia was so far, beyond my reach (Come on, my dad wouldn’t let me go to Convent Junction alone. Let alone another country). But there I was, riding in a tuk-tuk (A cross between moped and cycle rickshaw if you can imagine that) by the lake surrounding it. It took me some time to let the fact to sink in, I was indeed living my dream. We went there for both sunrise and sunset; it remains one the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets of my life.Considering the fact that I'm not much of a morning person it was a huge effort on my part to wake each day by five am.But for once I didn't regret losing some sleep in the morning.

Sunrise at Angkor Wat

The people of Cambodia are very friendly and not irritating as in some tourist locations. There is no explicit begging or troubling of tourists. Make sure you get back to city area before it gets too dark and you should be fine. Very basic common sense is enough to make a safe trip to Siem Reap. If you insist on staying back at the temples away from city late into the night, there is no guarantee of not being mugged.

What we ate and shopped:

We had awesome Mexican and Continental food. There was no issue explaining vegetarianism to them, they totally understood. There did serve vegetables other than tomato, onion, potato and capsicum. Coming to the drinking part, the drinks were cheap and really good. They had something called bucket of margarita for 5 USD (A bucket comes to around 5 drinks). Any cheaper you would have to make at home. Their happy hours are from 11 AM to 11 PM.

We picked some nicknacks, Tee shirts and coffee. Their coffee has a chocolate flavor and is quite strong. If you are a coffee lover, you will be swept off your feet by the taste.

P:S: We did see some Indian Restaurants too.But did not have time for eating from there as well.Two days is very short to see Siem Reap and try all kinds of food.If you plan,plan for three or four days.

In short:

We saw the magical “Angkor Wat” and the pantheon of temples surrounding it, gawked unabashedly at the huge temple complexes and came back infinitely humbled. I found what I was looking for. Peace and the happiness of having lived a long cherished dream.

Some Days

Another 55 fiction.

  “Some days, I wish I were dead”, she said, dysphoric like a mouse whose cheese was stolen.

This coming from someone who looks at life like a rabbit looking at a carrot farm ;if you ever saw one that is;is highly disturbing. I probed,” Which days?”

Letting out a deep sigh, she spewed. “Mondays” 

This came out as my genuine distaste for Mondays. I hate the fact that I need to go back to office. Only person I have seen who is happy about a Monday is my workaholic dad. I like the pay checks but that doesn't exactly mean I love going to office.

Nevertheless I found a way to change Monday to a fun day. Come August 29th and I start my language classes for French.(I promised myself on new year I'll learn a new language).I'll have my classes every Monday and hence will actually have something to look forward on a Monday.

So to beat a Monday blue pick up something you have always wanted to do and schedule it for Monday.Voila! There will be no IHMM (I hate Monday mails).

Don't ask me where I get these ideas from.I'm a born genius.

The Desire

This is my first attempt at 55 fictions*.

I carefully avoid you. Obscurely change paths not to come across you. Each day dawns with fierce determinations to baulk my need for you. Still at night, I see myself opening the door for you and as I gobble you up, my delectable chocolate bar, I count the calories and tell myself,” Just this once".

*- Okei now let me be honest. This was a piece of my heart I shared on face book after I had a brief yet intense meeting with my weighing machine. My half yearly performances weren’t up to the mark, said the square faced monster with scales.

An Apology Letter

My Dearest,

It has been a month since I could find time to write for you. I have been writing, alright, but then they were official mails, mails to friends and hopelessly long technical documents about the system I am working on (which I have no doubt would turn obsolete even before we are up and running).

Not writing for you doesn’t mean I have forgotten you. You are always in my thoughts. On weary nights I think about all the fun we had together. The things we discovered, the thoughts we shared and new friends we made.

So now puffy eyed, hurt to the core, you ask,” Then where the hell where you all these days? Picking mangoes in the desert?”

Silly Girl, I went home. I mean to India. I went to attend a couple of wedding and gorge on lovely home made food. I’m sure you can see that in the added pouches on my sides. (Now don’t snigger. I’m still high on my promises.)

Now believe it or not, this is what happened.

Yours truly is munching on Idli lavishly dunked in coconut chutney and Aviyal*,**.

Amma sits watching her progeny gulping down food like a hunger struck waif, needless to add, through her judging eyes. Through the corner of my eyes I watch a slight turn of lips,” God, let her not start on how easy it is to make Idli as breakfast before I go to work” I pray fervently as I take a sip of my tea, carefully avoiding Amma’s eye.

“Ehem”, Amma clears her throat. That is a definitive sign of the onslaught of what might be an hour long monologue on anything Amma found unacceptable about me. I flutter like a whale that senses the onset of tsunami.

“So what is your plan?” Amma asks. I lookup from plate and try to dislodge the coconut fiber that has precariously lodged itself to what could be my 32^nd tooth and precisely where my tongue, short by a couple of millimeter, cannot reach.

I don’t understand the context, could it be about the five Idli’s I had snacked on? No, Amma is not a person who keeps account of food a person eats. I make a sound which signals her for a clarification on the context which comes eventually comes out like that of an elephant choking on excess palm frond intake, if you have seen one that is.

” Eat slowly, have you not eaten Idli in ages?” the progenitor reproaches. I want to clarify that I have an irritant lodged somewhere in my mouth and where I come from, Idli is not a gourmet dish. I decide against it, I’ve asked her to make me puttu and kadal.I didn’t want to squash my bets on that. Where I come from puttu and kadala is a gourmet dish.

          “Well, I’m talking about taking the next step in life. You are not getting any younger. Neither am I.” Amma tells me sternly.Babies.I have been home for two days carefully avoiding barbed remarks on my maternity planning. I remain silent, scourging my armory for my defense.” Don’t just sit there gawking like an idiot.” Boy, she really loves me. Look at the choice of words to call an only child. What ever her vices are, pampering a child to brattiness is not one of them.

“Amma, I’ll have a child when I want to.” I tell her controlling my instinct to scream at her for pestering me on such inane stuff. She gives a cold stare and walks out gallantly.

Her stare could’ve turned a fire breathing dragon in to a burned out match stick, but not me. She definitely failed to freeze me into an ice maiden but somewhere something bothered me.

I don’t understand what it is with people and babies. I’m married and I have no kids as of now. I will have kids when the time is right. What is it to anybody else? I love children. I’m not someone who would worry about forgoing my career to bring up a kid. I might fret, but I know my priorities. I really don’t need to be lectured on what happens in “late deliveries”. I want to tell Amma, I need a little more time to sort out my life. My eccentricities and my insecurities. There is no point bringing a child to an emotionally unstable mother. I want to tell her not to push me to have a child. Like any woman I want to enjoy the whole process. I shouldn’t feel talked into it, like some course I didn’t want to do in school. I know Amma,you have a thousand reasons and arguments to give me. I have only one. You can call me selfish but still I’m just not ready for it.

You can call your daughter a failure if you want. All these years of training and teaching to be a perfect daughter and daughter-in-law have paid off. But not this one Amma, not this one. The wedding happened on everybody else’s terms. When I have a child, I’ll do that in my own terms. This is the way I want it and this is the way I am going to do it.

“If you think I’m going to get pregnant just keep everybody’s mouth shut, then I am not going to. Tell anybody who asks you, your daughter is trying to live her life the way it makes her happy.” I tell Amma. She calls me stubborn and an idiot (again).

Now my dearest, there were other ordeals similar in nature and intensity which drained me. But there were also moments of happiness. Moments of laughter and joy. On the whole the trip was a roller coaster ride. And yeah books, loads of them.

But in between all this, I missed you sweetheart. I really did, my blog, my love.

With Lots of Love

Blue Lotus

*Aviyal : Is a super duper Kerala dish made from assorted vegetables cooked in coconut minced with jeera and green chillies.It’s yummy and I’ll have it with anything.(Not to be confused with the rock band, though are yummy too)

** We Keralite start and end our day with coconut. Stop rolling your eyes, it might just pop out, let me add like coconuts.