Posted in Journal

Pushing My Luck

I’m doing it again. Fooling myself.

On the one hand, I’ve stopped filling my hours with mindless engagement with YouTube video suggestions, since my brain positively identifies it as wasted time. But on the other hand, I’m hardly getting any work done. Most of my time is spent reading. Perhaps it’s the way society has always glorified literature – I do not feel ashamed about spending all my waking hours engrossed in a book. The discovery of the online web serial “Worm” on wordpress has me surging through the chapters for hours till some sense of fatigue settles into my eyes. The rest of the time has me gobbling down food – breakfast, snacks, lunch, snacks, dinner, all diffusing together in an amalgamated endeavour to let me pass time legitimately. You need food for survival, and it somehow feels justified to be filling my time between reading with food.

I feel good, though. Really, really, good. I have clarity that had been lacking for a long time now. I’m not on an emotional high, but that ensures that I’m nowhere close to a crash either.

I’m talking to myself again while riding my bike, and man, have I missed the company! Unknown to most, I’m quite fun to be around with inhibitions down, and, but for a few of my friends who’ve got a glimpse of the drunk me, I’m the only one who’ve had access to the full show. The quirky ideas, the jokes, it’s a whole sitcom up there in my head. I’ve missed that, sorely.

All that’s left for me to do is manipulate myself to get off the bed and actually get around to getting things done. It seems like more and more deadlines are springing up by the minute. One for June 30th, another for July 31st. Both exciting and interesting, if only I can get rid of the nagging feeling that I might be biting off more that I can chew. Hell, I haven’t even gotten around to the stuff I bit off two months ago.

Maybe I should just keep cutting myself some slack. Things have always had a way of falling into place just before stuff hit the fan, so maybe maybe I could afford to push my luck a little further.

Bread, nutella and mangoes, here I come.

Posted in Musings

Cave-Girl Cookin’

You know the all-familiar feminist rhetoric? The one that all “modern” women with a life keep rapping about, how society decides their worth based on age-old patriarchal sexism and overlooks every other achievement. So jaded, right?

Wrong.

Continue reading “Cave-Girl Cookin’”
Posted in Anecdotes

Grilled Fish, Pudding and Bliss

Ardent fans of the ’90s TV show Friends might recollect an episode where Rachel decides to start giving herself some alone time while dining out. The plot involves the hilarious paranoia that men have about women who eat alone. Although I laughed along like any other fan, it was definitely one episode where I wondered what the deal really was. What is really so bad about eating at a restaurant by yourself?

Continue reading “Grilled Fish, Pudding and Bliss”
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 and focusing on the plate in front of you.