Scribbles

24th May 2012: Once more i find myself at that ugly place called writer's block. This time it's the size of and as ugly as a certain industrialist's south Bombay abode. And all i seem to be doing is sit next to it on a small wooden stool, the kind watchmen sit on, and stare up at the cold concrete tower, wallowing in self pity.

30th May 2012: Several hours after i wrote the above, I decided i couldn't sleep and so ventured out for a midnight stroll through the house. No. Not to the kitchen (though anyone who knows me would have to make that assumption), but to get the ebook reader from the living room. Now, for some reason that i forget now, i decided to conduct this *excursion* in pitch darkness, confident as i was in my ability to avoid walking into tables and walls. And i did. I got back to my room safely. Which was when i had a spectacular fall, tripping over the Fellow's suitcase (which, btw, was right in the middle of the doorway). Now you remember i had an expensive gadget in my hand? Yeah. To save that, i sacrificed the right side of my body, landing quite efficiently, on my right palm. Where was the Fellow in all of this you ask? Snuggled under his blanket, snoring lightly. Anyway. I dusted myself off, cursed the man who was oblivious to his wife's predicament and crawled into bed. 

I spent the next 5 days with my right wrist in a bandage. The doctor i visited was mighty amused and a little concerned about my mental state because the last time i went to her was because I'd walked into a rusted metal peacock and needed a tetanus shot. Which, at my age, apparently, is a little weird. I want to know who decides these things. 

2nd June 2012: All day was spent recuperating from a dinner party the day before. I'd spent all day on my feet, first cooking a meal for some 8 people and then playing host. Thankfully we'd I'd make a good decision about the guest list and so not too much effort was spent entertaining them. Alcohol and embarrassing stories were enough. Of course, they also had their children to entertain/distract them as they went about systematically trying to break my new super cool coasters (and all because they had chickens drawn on them. But that's another story). Oh, and in other party related news, i'm now the italian food expert around here. Though credit goes entirely to the friend who very kindly gave me his red sauce  and lasagne recipe, which the Fellow has now requested i make at least once a week. Yes. I have my own Garfield.

5th June 2012: Here i am. Procrastinating. Hoping like hell i can get off that stool sometime soon.  

Alone

He was envied by his colleagues and loved by his friends. His presence made any party more fun to be at. His was one of those charming personalities you read about in books and success stories. Wherever he went, he left behind a trail of unbridled laughter and fond memories. Everyone he met believed they held a special place in his life. Over the years he'd become, for a lot of his acquaintance, that one constant in their lives. He was their anchor, their shoulder to cry upon, the one person they knew who could be counted upon. 

And yet, he was alone. Disconnected from everyone around him. Sure, he knew a lot of people. But did anyone know him? Did anyone know who he was behind the smile and the one-liners? His fears and hopes? His frustrations and joys? Where could he turn to for support? Who was his anchor? On difficult days, where it seemed like all he ever did was help others through their problems, the weight of the world would descend on his shoulders and envelope him in a shroud of depression. The feeling of loneliness was never more magnified than at such times. Left alone with his thoughts, he felt he was definitely going crazy. The despair, the feeling of giving up, that gnawing sensation of having no one who cared enough. The morbidity of the situation came upon him like a hailstorm in June, leaving him breathless. No sane person would feel this way surely? 

But maybe it was normal to feel this way. Maybe he had to be insane to not want somebody by his side. to know him, not for his fabulous lifestyle, but for who he was once the parties were over and real life began. Maybe he had to feel this way so that he knew what he was missing. The one thing that would fill that void he'd begun to sense more often than before. The last piece of the jigsaw puzzle. The anchor in his life. The shoulder he needed. 

Writer's Block x Infinite

For three days now I’ve been trying to write one measly little post giving my opinion on another year ending, bemoaning the passage of time and how it flies blah blah blah. And for three days now, all I’ve really done is clatter a few sentences out, and then hit the backspace key. Rinse and repeat. I’m so frustrated right now I can literally see the five hundred kilo block in my head that refuses to let the words through. And the words are there. Oh yes. A mob of them really, clambering, jostling, screaming even, yet unable to get through that barrier. Makes me miss the days of pen and paper writing really, when I could just tear stuff up and vent and match the chaos happening inside my head.

And so while I wait the mind-riot out and hope a meteorite falls on that barrier and smashes it to pieces, the three of you reading this space go and have a fun 2011.

In a First...

(August 11th, Day 61 of 112)

I travelled alone by train to a different city.

I didn’t sleep at all in the train.

I visited Chandigarh.

I fell in love with a place that was not Bombay.

I bought, well was made to buy, 3 pairs of jutis, 3 sweaters, 1 saree, 1 salwar kameez, 2 tee-shirts, 1 pair of jeans and a pair of earrings – all in a day and a half.

I went for a movie with the in-laws.

I travelled to Shimla by road.

I didn’t throw up when travelling up a mountain by road.

I missed the Fellow more than ever before.

In a first…well…since the Fellow left at least…I’m running out of things to blog about. Or maybe the cold (relative to the land of camels and dal-baati) has just gotten to my brain cells. After all it has been known to happen right?

One and Two Hundred

(Day 57 of 112)

I just realised I hit the 200 posts mark on this blog yesterday!

There are so many numbers I’m crunching at present that this momentous event slipped through the cracks.

Yesterday was also exactly half the sentence completed. 56 of 112. Having crossed the half mark it seems to me now that the countdown will be faster and the end closer. Of course the Fellow will remark that since his ordeal will remain the same it doesn’t make a difference.

But it does. 57 down, 55 more to go.

Channeling It all

(Day 3 of 112)

The last couple of posts have been about how the Fellow is away for a long time and how I’m becoming all weepy whiny whilst missing him. Well I’ve now come to a decision about this slow and scary transformation into a…textbook girl – it has to stop.

I’m going to continue missing the Fellow (duh!), but I’m also going to channel all these emotions and I-want-to-curl-into-my-blanket-and-hibernate moments into a creative outlet. I’m going to write. I mean I already do, but seeing as I updated my blog once in a blue moon or when inspiration struck at 3 in the morning, I’m now going to post something at least once a day for each day that the Fellow is away. I’m going to try not to make it all about he who is away for 4 months, but some of it definitely will be, after all he is one of my 4 readers and I cant afford to make him feel all left out and forgotten!

So consider this a warning or an invitation. Either way, be prepared. I know I am.