Redemption is so hard to come by…

Like I mentioned in my post before this one, I am trying to channelize a lasting bout of anger, angst and a sense of helplessness into something less self-destroying than cynicism and a perpetual state of bitterness. A lot has happened in the last couple of years, a lot of hurt has festered within me and has brought me to this point in my life where everything seems so pointless. When I meet people, friends, acquaintances, even loved ones; I see the same patterns of behaviors, repeated over and over again. The same play of polite conversations, attempts to portray themselves as modest, while also trying to subtly put across how much they have achieved. The same patronizing, concerned looks, shrieks of joy at any mentions of any new events in my life, the warm hugs, and the sighs as they remember the troubled life I have led. The appropriate noises they make while trying to one-up themselves in a group. They all think that they have a unique tactic; someone is trying to be a good listener, someone is the patron saint of all friends unhappy, someone is the silently suffering workaholic, and someone is the sweetest thing ever. What they don’t know is that there are a million others, doing their thing better than them.

One extremely unfortunate thing about cynicism is that it makes you so objective that you can observe your own behavior, weigh it on the same scale as others. And something similar is happening to me. I see my fake “Hello!”, my practiced smiles, my calculated words, my well-polished smart-ass statements, and I want to throw up.

We are a sickening race. We all know what empty, meaningless lives we lead, but instead of resigning ourselves to the fact OR doing something concrete to make ourselves feel less like vermin, we try to project this image of ourselves, this image we want the world to see. Let’s face it, how many of you have posted unflattering pictures of yourself on Facebook, pictures in which your friends looked gorgeous, and you looked like a sack of socks? If you are reading this and thinking that you are an exception, no you are not. You are delusional.

I think I am so done. But emotional purges are the toughest of all. In order to reach the core of all the angst, one has to embark on a journey inwards, and mine is an angst ridden landscape. There are a lot of memories locked and packed away. Tons of denials. Lies, deceit, envy, self-denial, grief, guilt… so much to sort through and sort out. I don’t even know if I am upto such intense unveiling of my own self. If the outer world disgusts me so, I am terrified thinking of where my own yellow bricks road will lead me to.

There is, however, no looking back. As I already stated, I am treating this year like it’s my very last one. So no further procrastinations. Walk into that dark attic, clean those cobwebs, and let some sunshine in. I am not dying dark and desolate. I don’t believe in organized religion, and no reincarnation for me, either. What I have is here and now. And I am in a hurry.

A New Year Resolution in the month of May

Yup. Because? It’s my birthday month, and I need to shine a torch into my face and ask myself, “Where do you thing we are heading?”

I am not in a pretty place, so to speak. I traded a lot of dreams, and now I find, for not much. And I only have myself to blame. When I had nothing to hold me back, I got so scared that I desperately needed an anchor, not realizing that there are no anchors to fliers and dreamers. Only shackles.

So here I am, all anchored, with nowhere to go. But you know me. I am not one to give up without a fight. And when I get angry, I stay angry. And these past few days, I have been very angry indeed. Like bitchslap-the-world kind of angry. But I am not about to waste a good bout of anger. I usually end up doing something a little insane with it.

Anyone remember that little bucket list I made? Don’t kick yourself if you don’t, because I can barely remember it myself. I am now going to dig it out and make it all happen. And I have a little ace up my sleeve. A couple of months back, we were forced into this dead-silly workshop that taught you how to be better, more subservient employees and all that jazz. The only good thing that came out of that was a video of a man who knew he was about to die, and who made his remaining time on the planet really useful, by doing some rather cool stuff like helping people set their priorities straight and such stuff. So I hit upon this idea. We all  are so worried about what the future holds. Wouldn’t it be great if we could put a deadline on life? Like, I would know exactly how much time I have to put Plan A and B in my life into action, since I have only so many years, months or weeks to live. I find the idea extremely interesting. So shall we put it to use then?

So I decided to treat this year as if this is the last year of my life. I have only and only 365 days to live all the rest of my life, do all that I have wanted to do, and hell, who cares what life holds if you have already done whatever you wanted to do! Sounds like a plan. The only thing is, I don’t want to spend this assumed last year of my life doing the same things I have been doing for the past 35 years of my life. For, where is the fun in that? So, anchored or not, I vow to fly high, and chase my dreams, wherever they may take me. Who can complain when I only have a year to live?

Venting…

You know, it’s weird. For weeks I have no thoughts, no ideas for a post. Now suddenly, I have so much to say. I am filled with opinions, and am bursting to voice them, for all they might be worth. But let me just start with a bit of a cleansing exercise. I have been trying for years now to figure out why all my friends are doing so much more then I am. They seem to be driving their own cars, making big investments, buying houses, taking numerous foreign vacations. And here I am, content to be home and reading a book. How could I just get here, without any focus, any ambition in life?

As far as I can remember, I have been like this. When I was growing up, I wanted to be a doctor one, an astronaut the next day. Some weeks I found myself thinking of being a designer, and there were phases when I was a historian, a teacher, a chef, a housewife… Yet, I pursued nothing with passion, because truly, I did not want to be any of these. Then what did I want? I cannot even claim that I wanted to be X, but family pressure forced me to become Y. I never really fought for what I thought I wanted in that instant.  And now, in about a month’s time, I will lose another year of my life, and I really do not have much to show for it. It would not have been much of a problem if I hadn’t been made to feel quite so apologetic for not really amounting to anything.

I believe that the world can only hold so many real individuals, and maybe not everyone among us is meant to dazzle. But on the other hand, there are all these messages storming our space with the DIY Life recrafting stories. We all know someone who has turned their lives upside down after facing a lot of resistance. And somehow, we all are supposed to want to be in that space. I have spent all my life trying to be a conformist, and look what it got me!

So if I have to expect a different outcome, I guess I need to stop doing things the same way. To hell with the world, I do not want to be exceptional, and would you please leave me with what i am and not read too much into my potential, my talent, my way with the world. I know who I am, and where I stand, and thank you very much. I don’t seek you approval, and I definitely don’t give a rodent’s ass about criticism. And I like baby boys.

There, I said it. Before political correctness made it mandatory for all mothers-to-be to openly proclaim that they did not support female infanticide and were in fact, hoping for a baby girl, I found little boys way cooler than little girls. They are naughty, vocal, funny and I find them adorable. No, I am not about to kill your female infants. Hold your guns! I find little boys cute and I feel they are fun to be around. I don’t plan to be a mother, but if I had ever wanted a baby, I’d want it to be a boy. I would have bought a little basketball kit for my son, and encouraged him to take up karate. We would have played Nintendo games, and I would have given him dating advice. He would have been one hell of a cool dude, and you all would have warned your daughters against him. So there, if I was cornered into baby sitting, I would want it to be a boy!

I think parents are over-rated. Get your brickbats ready. I have faced umpteen number of people who vent their parent fury on me, but none of them has the balls to stand up and say, “My mom sucks. She has made my sister’s life miserable by constantly interfering in her married life, and she is a manipulative monster, and I am afraid that she is going to ruin my life too!” Every single parent on this planet can rant their last breath out that they want the world for their children, but oh dear, not you don’t! You want your child’s world for yourself. Most of you do. If you have young children, wait till they get old. Wait till they become a failure. See how your unconditional love vanishes. Wait till they become hugely successful. See how you realize that success has changed them. Wait till your beautiful offspring finds the love of his life. See how you are the only one who realizes what a huge mistake he is making. You might be reading this and thinking, “She has got it all wrong. I am different. Parents are selfless.” I hear you. You are an exception. Get on with your life. And mirrors are pretty dangerous to hang around.

I am an obnoxious, cynical, bitter, angst-ridden, short-fused bitch. You have probably seen me as a smiling, laughing indulging hostess, or a loving friend, or a passably pleasant acquaintance. But spend time with me, get to know me better, and you will see the monster I am. I wait for people to fumble, so i can turn around and tell others, “See I told you, she is a moron!”. Unfortunately, people invariably fumble, as humans often do. So in my little, bleak universe, trapped within my little head, nearly everyone is a moron. I am headstrong, stubborn and easily judgmental. I hate to admit that my job does nothing for anyone, and basically sucks in its insignificance. But it pays well, and who am I to complain!

I don’t know how long I can keep my mask off. I have been called a Diva and a super bitch, often by the same people. But what is it that I want to be called? Who cares! This is my blog. And you can call me Prats for now.

Womanhood and all this fuss…

Being a woman is such an incredible feeling that I don’t see why there has to be a day designated to celebrate womanhood. What is there to celebrate? I was a woman yesterday, and I will continue to be a woman tomorrow. I don’t think about being a woman, not very often anyway. I do think about greying hair, and new emerging lines on my forehead, and under my eyes. I think about dreams I have let go, and dreams that are alive. I think about people I will never see again, and places I will never visit again. But I don’t get up in the morning and think, “I am a woman”. So I don’t quite understand the fuss. While I won’t complain about the discounts given on Women’s Day, the special offers, and the get-togethers with free chocolates and stuff, I really, truly don’t get it. One reason, perhaps, could be that I celebrate the special women in my life almost every day of the year. I am, fortunately, surrounded by spectacular talent, and I am in awe of them. This post is not to eulogize them, so we’ll leave it at that. But I will tell you what, as far as I know, none of these women I so admire get up in the morning and think, “I am a woman”. They just do what they do and they do it with passion and focus. And that’s what makes them special, every single day of the year, and no more and no less on March 8th. I menstruate every month, I get mood swings every week, I hate the blues every Monday, and I await my salary every last week of the month. I dread the taxes throughout the year and loath the city traffic every day. So why should I celebrate womanhood just one day of the year? Is that how small my state of being is for the world? To be taken out, aired, kissed, pampered, and then put away for another year! Does not work for me. So no, no Happy Women’s Day to any of you. Ask for more, women. Demand 364 more days of celebration, every year!

New beginnings…

It’s been a really long time. I really had lots to say, but somewhere between the thinking and the posting, thoughts seem to get lost. So much has been happening in my life, and so fast. I have, on some days, stopped, looked at my life, and then decided to look no more. I have been overwhelmed by all the changes.

When I had started this blog, I had lost a lot. But in these past two years, there have been ups and downs, and life has been anything but predictable. I am not complaining. It’s been one exciting ride. And I am about to begin a new journey. Last month, I unveiled the first, small collection of hand-made accessories, branded Bandagi – Bling Worship. I intend to concentrate on hair accessories for the first few collections, and then move on to other stuff. It’s been such a unique experience! While working on the collection, I did not sleep for days, and yet had more energy than I have had in a long time. In fact, now when I am taking a break from crafting and working on the mood board for the next collection, I miss that passion, that drive that kept me going for days. I know it will come back, that indescribable high. For now, I am really savoring this rest break. Soon enough, a new, crazy phase in my life will begin.

I am getting married next month. Yup. Thank you.

If you have been reading this blog regularly, you might remember, that after the break-down of my first marriage, I had promised myself that I will settle for nothing less than a fairy tale. I no longer want a fairy tale. I am in love the way humans, and not other-worldly people love. I love with caution one day, and with abandon another day. I revel in all the emotions this brings, and I know it will change, evolve, and hopefully, grow, and grow up. Now, when I look into the mirror, I no longer see the woman I was, or the woman I could have been. I see the woman I am and can become. And that is such an incredible feeling.

So in this new year, 2012, I am ready to take on life, and find new destinations with a new partner in my journey. Together, we hope to explore new realms of thoughts, dreams, beliefs, and aspirations. Stay with me. I am not done yet.

Peek-a-boo!

So much has been happening, and so fast! And most of the changes have been good. I met an incredible young woman, and we became friends. She taught me Yoga, and I fed her. I started work on my own accessories collection, and with each piece I make, I get better. It’s such an amazing feeling!

I am still trying to change things for better, and failing miserably on so many counts. But every now and then, I succeed in not kicking myself over failure. So well, time for some more rant on life, love and such stuff. I have been observing relationships around me. All sorts of them. Parent-child, friends, siblings, colleagues, spouses, lovers, acquaintances… And it’s interesting to see the patterns that emerge. How some people who talk too much instantly appear shallow. How one can see the insecurities emerge, the attraction or lack thereof. How almost everyone wears a mask, living their life purely to please others. And while watching, observing, listening, something important has been happening to me. I can now see people who are truly original and remarkable. Who live, or at least try to live, only for themselves. And what’s even more remarkable is how rare these individuals are.

Last night, I went to a restaurant where the washrooms had these interesting masks on the doors. Now masks, they intrigue me. The need to hide one’s true self is so compelling that often, the mask we wear most of the time becomes our true identity. I have seen shy people wearing a mask of confidence, and becoming just that. So in all, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. And in any case, who am I to judge. The most terrifying part of all this, however, is to turn the scrutiny to myself. I wear too many masks, and it’s a little annoying knowing that I can be quite a pest. I am a difficult person to be around. I am cynical, often nasty, and unmistakably bitter. I often do not practice what I preach, and have lost many friends because I could not reach out to them when they needed me. But the world sees this happy, shiny person who cracks jokes, is moderately popular, and manages to fake it most of the time. But for all it’s worth, I am really fond of my true self. I’d like to reach out to it, discard all my masks, and try being myself for a while.

So for as long as I can manage, starting today, I am going to observe myself like an outsider, and catch glimpses of my true self, and find where I lost it, how many masks I am really wearing and where to shove them when I no longer need them.

Like I said, this is a rant. So bear with me.

Pretty things… are so pretty!

This morning, I had a dear friend for company. She had stayed over last night. We stayed up late, chatted, discussed men, discussed our lives, and felt good about our friendship which is now in its 11th year. She is among the most talented people I know, and in college she designed her own accessories. I always thought she’d soon start her own line which will be a huge hit. I still believe, in fact I know, that she will, when the time is right.

For now, I am the one who has started work on a line of accessories. So every evening, I get home, and make flowers, cut ribbons, stitch fabric covers for headbands. I have a few wrap-around bracelets, hair bands and headbands ready. And now, I am soon going to start making more complex designs. It’s a learning process and is taking up a lot of money. And giving me the kind of satisfaction that money just cannot buy. My house is buried under a mess, and it is near impossible finding my things. But it’s fun and helps me channelize my thoughts and ideas. Most of all, it gives me something to look forward to when I get home in the evenings.

So, a day before Diwali, I have decided to have a formal vision for this sweet little venture of mine. My aim in creating all the lovelies is, to put it straight, “make pretty things that bring joy to others”. I love the sound of it. I like beautiful things, and the thought of creating them for others pleases me so much. After several months of feeling low and down in dumps, I finally have something to set me soaring. And it’s such a great feeling!

So this Diwali, after lighting a few diyas, and creating a small rangoli, I will sit down with my scissors and needles and flowers and laces, and make  pretty things. Can’t think of a better way to celebrate.

One Closure Please. And Super-size it!

When Richard and Maurice McDonald were in the process of making Fast Food an assembly line process, I wonder if they knew what big fortunes awaited them. But I do know that they would have multiplied those fortunes many times over if they had devised a way to make an assembly line for that most elusive of human processes- Closure.

So important, and so difficult to achieve.

One of the primary reasons we carry so much emotional baggage around is our inability to give closure to so many events, tragedies, bad relationships and generally things and people in the past that are no longer a part of our lives, but hold us back through regrets and anger.

So, if the McDonalds brothers had somehow devised a way to make closure as easy as a Burger and French fries, the lines outside their franchisees would have been miles long. So many of us live in the shadows of our past, looking for an escape from the pain that is thrust into our faces every now and then, mostly when least expecting it. Apologies never received, gratitude never shown, anger never vented. We play out the “un-closured” events again and again in our heads, trying to work out a scenario when things would have been different.

I never got closure on the deaths of my two parents. I guess you never can. I will live in constant knowledge that when my father was on his deathbed, hours away from leaving us forever, I was so angry with the world, so unprepared to let him go, that I never held his hand and kissed him. I now know how much I needed to. I needed to let him know how much he was loved. Instead, what he perhaps saw in my eyes was anger. And frustration. And fear. But I am not the person he saw in his last moments. I needed him to know that his younger child is now a strong woman capable of finding her own way, able to love with abandon, free to pursue the destiny she chooses as her own. And so it is, that I live in regret, and keep revisiting that last day. I know that I will eventually be able to put this behind me, and be able to forgive myself. But it is such a long-drawn process. There is so much living to be done to finally arrive at that point where I can look back and feel that the past has come to pass.

And that’s just one closure that never happened. So yes, wish someone would put a fast-track on our emotional processes and package the deal in paper bags. I know I would stand in a queue miles long to get a super-sized box of some fast track closure.

Cupcakes and the secret of Life

Of late, I have been forced to wonder what makes people want to stop living. When does one realize that life has become all about existing on a daily basis. When breathing and being alive are no longer incentives enough to continue doing so. I like life, so far. There are small moments that I stumble across unexpectedly that make it all worthwhile. But that does not mean that I do not fear life.

What will happen when all my life’s happiness is over. When will I wake up and wonder if there is anything else to look forward to? At what age will that moment come? Haven’t we all had those days? I know I have. When nothing in life seems exciting or beautiful enough to go on living for. How does one deal with those days?

Strangely enough, these thoughts have been playing on my mind at a stage in life that is otherwise meant to be full of joy and euphoria. I am a young adult, with a good job, a lovely home that I love coming back to, and no known deadly ailments. So now? I am not of a particularly giving nature. In fact, I am far more selfish than most other people, and I am worse than that because I feel I have earned my selfishness. So what do I live for?

There is no need to panic. I am not a fatalist, if anything. I feel that one shouldn’t be intimidated by existential crisis. It’s usually the starting point in taking an objective look at your life, and taking the necessary steps to weed out the undesirable, and embracing the potential. I guess I am in the process of doing the same, though right now, the state of my mind is a bit shaky. I am planning to many things and haven’t really focused on any one thing, and hence the confusion.

As you can see, this is one of those rant posts that don’t really get anywhere. I think I will stop now. I have said enough, and am still not getting anywhere. Just to make myslef feel better, I  will list the cool thing I did this weekend.

I baked a batch of cupcakes for my dear friend Ritika’s birthday. Melody Mittal, I love you.

I finally gave up on a friend who no longer wants me around. I figured that if she doesn’t want to be with me, I just have to accept that she no longer likes my company, and that I have to respect her wish.

I ate some really good food, played with a friend’s adorable baby, got a tooth extracted and was quite brave about it.

And I made a decision to finally accept some of life’s beautiful gifts, that I have been running away from.

So there.

Travelling…

I know I haven’t posted in 2suitcases in a while. Well, a lot has been happening of late. I went to Vienna and Budapest on a whirlwind, in and out, yet memorable trip. The two cities are beautiful, and I plan to go back for a longer, more relaxed trip. Back home, I am trying to sort my life, and become more disciplined about doing things that give me joy. I might be having a Phase 2 of the Garage Sale soon, and this one would be a bigger attempt at purging than the last one was.

A lot of my happy quotient is missing these past few months and I know very well that it’s only up to me to find it again.  It’s not like I am grumpy all the time, just not the same super-sunshine person I was last year. But I guess that is expected. The same phase of your life cannot last forever. Like I keep telling myself, one small step at a time. I keep trying to do too many things, and end up all scattered and messy. Life, I tell you. The best teacher ever.

Have a few fun stories from the trip to tell you guys. More on that later. For now, I am leaving you with some of the breakfast pictures I promised, but have been slow with. Hope you enjoy them. Stay happy,  stay fit. Keep loving.