And all the wounds which will not heal
And all the roses which will not live again
Covered in the dust of the moon
And wet with lifeless dew
And is all this so?
Or is it just a spider’s web
Woven by my own fears
And if it is so, what are we to do
And if it is not, what are we to do then
Tell me, tell me.
–Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Translated by Shoaib Hashmi
These days I feel like hiding under a rock, insulating myself from the world in general.
So I told myself what Liv Taylor told us all a long time ago — and went and bought myself multiple pairs of exquisite shoes.
We all need somebody or something to pin the blame on. Isn’t it easier to fault the stars instead ?
Lately, I have been feeling like no matter what I do, I can’t stop spreading out like a giant japanese fan taking over the world.
So, as a last resort, I have joined Bikram Yoga classes, which is where I am headed right now.
If doing power yoga inside a steam room doesn’t work, then I swear to you, I will stop complaining about my fat and accept the fact that I will, perhaps, always be slightly overweight.
So, I’ve been dreaming of having my own line of illustrated and personalized stationery for so long now. But every time I consider taking a solid step in that direction, I am filled with fears of failure, of how no one will want to buy my work, no one will like it or stock it in their shops and how random strangers will stop me on the road to tell me how much I suck.
My most recent acquisition is a bubble maker from ToysRus. It’s massive and blows tens of huge bubbles at one time.
I cannot stop myself from smiling when I look at the float-y little wonders dancing around in the air.
It’s also kind of therapeutic. If you are angry or tensed, try blowing bubbles. It will feel like you are scattering our troubles in the wind. Each bubble holds your hurt and anger and fear inside it. And when these bubbles disappear with a pop, so do your troubles. At least momentarily.
I was awake all night. By all night, I don’t mean till 3 or 4 in the morning. I mean that I went to bed at 11:30, lay awake all night, reread the whole entire Great Gatsby, played some silly games on my phone and then got out of bed and ate breakfast at 8 am.
The rest of the day then proceeded to feel like an out of body experience.
I realised what I had been missing more than anything else since I moved to Singapore. When I was in Delhi, in the company of the awesome human beings I was lucky to know, I used to laugh a lot.
Not the smiling a bit broadly or hahaha kind of laughter. The kind that comes from your belly, like an uncontrollable spasm. The fall-down-holding-your-stomach-till-your-sides-hurt kind of laughter.
On Saturday night I laughed like that, in the company of some awesome humans. Long story short, best night so far on the island.
When I was a wee baby in my mother’s womb, I was a very weak foetus, and I suspect, a bit depressive. During labour, the doctors had trouble getting me out, seeing as how I had suffocated myself with my own umbilical chord. Attempted foetal suicide? Perhaps.
In the process, I kind of died for a few minutes. They put me on artificial resuscitation and eventually, I came back to the party. Now, during that time, here’s what I think happened.
My depressive soul had left my body and everyone Up there was all ” Oh, we lost one!” until in the last minute when they realised they had made a mistake. Then they had to quickly supply a substitute soul. The soul that was available immediately was that of a dog.
And so, on the outside, I am a woman. Inside, I am a big fat Labrador. I am lazy, like to sleep all the time, cannot keep myself from food, wag my tail for everyone until I get kicked, and pretty much sell out to cuddles and love. O, and I am loyal like a dog, too. If you hurt someone I love, I WILL bite you.
It rains almost every day on the island. This was such a welcome change when I first came here from the driest city in India.
In Delhi, dark clouds would take over the sky, howling sandstorms would blow for hours. It would look like the sky was going to part and the city would drown in what would come pouring down. But. It would then proceed to rain in drips and drabs and be over in a few minutes.
In my mind this phenomenon reflected the nature of the people in Delhi. They make a lot more noise than their actions can live up to. It’s always Do you know who I am? Do you know who my daddy is? Do you know what I can do to you? Most of the time they are bluffing.
In the island, it just gets a bit dark and then within minutes, it’s pouring cats and dogs. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days. This, I think is a lot like the people here. Quiet and reserved but you never know what you’re going to get.
So, long story short, Umbrellas and Raincoats are now a part of my life all over again. And this constant rain is wreaking havoc on my mood.
OK, I guess as a result of all this speaking of the mind, some other people who I said nothing to and am actually quite fond of, are now behaving so oddly.
It appears the people who were being silly have gone and tattled to the world.
What is more silly is that the “world” has decided to take sides.
I am gobsmacked by this. It’s like 30 going on 3.
The thing about always speaking your mind is, people often reject/deny what you are saying, no matter how logical, because they are suddenly confronted with total honesty.
A few days ago, I spoke my mind after being poked and prodded on a very childish social issue.
It did not go down well at all. So, note to self: must not speak my mind in the future.
The island is so humid I am surprised people aren’t walking around with their designer handbags in one hand and IV saline drips in another. The past few days I have been out and about quite a lot. And, not in the kind of AC bubble that I used to float around in when I was in Delhi.
Humidity and I have never been friends. Humidity won every single day and by the afternoon I was Lion King.