Posted in Musings

Want

“What do we want to want?”

Amigo SV’s WhatsApp status intercepted an already spiraling flow of thoughts that had been on my mind for the last couple of days. I frequently tell Mr Beloved that the two of us are probably the most boring people in the town – while residents and tourists alike make a beeline for the many MANY fancy restos and pubs in this erstwhile French colony, our dinner plans go something like this –

“Where shall we eat?”

“Your call”

“You tell me”

“Depends on what you want. Pasta? Pizza? Chinese?”

“Something light”

“You just want dosa, right?”

“Yeah”

“Yeah, me too”

And we head to Surguru.

Every time.

Okay,  not every time, but enough times to justify the term.

Pondicherry is such a happening place (compared to most other parts of India), there are parties all the time, and fests and theatre and whatnot, but apart from that initial excited phase of actually landing here, I’ve not really explored further. Heck, I barely come to know what is going on around to even contemplate being a part of any of it. And when I do, it is all get excited, make plans, maybe next time, repeat.

Saturday happened to be Bastille Day, the celebration of the French Revolution and it is celebrated with gusto here as well. For the first time, we actually managed to drag our reluctant bottoms to White Town to track down a band playing, but we gave out at the doorsteps of the bar and headed to an overpriced restaurant with a fancy name and moderately pathetic food and headed home. The next day greeted me with ardently patriotic status updates of a Pondicherrian with photos of the previous night’s midnight pyrotechnics. Sunday saw the Rock Beach set up with a giant screen to watch the World Cup finale between France and Croatia and spilling over with the entire population of Pondy sans yours truly.

Now, I am no fan of crowds and commotion, but that must have been fun. Oh well.

Am I turning into a boring middle aged woman? Wait, have I always been a boring middle aged woman?? Possible. The thing is, I have come to realize that my general lack of mad energy, and enthusiasm and intrinsic laziness concern me only when I realize everyone around me seems to be having a gala time doing all this. I’ve spent half my life coveting people’s zest for life and the innumerable adventures they seem to be having as a result of it. The travels, the spoils, the tales. They seem to be getting so much out of life. I have always wanted it. But lately I’ve wondered, do I really?? Sure, they look happy, but I am happy as well.. right? The sense of emptiness that sprouts in me is seeded in the fulfilment I see in others, not a reflection of my lack of it.

Maybe, all these years, I’ve just wanted to want all that. And once that is cut out, perhaps fulfillment is also found in a quiet dinner with someone you love, as long as your eyes stay on your plate.

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A wayward thinker hiding behind the facade of necessary courtesies

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