Riptide

It's like this.

You know how sometimes in life, you go through an extremely dry spell where nothing just fits the bill or cuts it? You come home to an empty apartment where hydro bills, Columbia DVD spams, mail-order diplomas and post-it-notes on the fridge with grocery list-to-dos await you... and are a constant reminder that these are a more prominent fixture in your life? It's a sad realization when you remember that your idea of coming home involved coming home to that constantly blinking light on your answering machine (or cell phones) informing you of few missed calls and voice messages from friends reminding you of the get-together reminiscent of a Sex And the City episode.. and then somehow, somewhere, somebody... popped the bubble?!

Until one day, when you just let it all out.

You stumbled across one of those yoga sessions held in a swanky Soho loft with 20 ft ceilings where the guru is none other than Mahesh or Ramu from the corporate jungles of Mumbai (and also reknowned disciple of the famous Deepak Chopra or some other Westernized yogi out to make his millions with his bestsellers and audio tapes), and while sweating out your stress armed with the power of chakras or aashnas or other samosa sounding what-other-have-you names you've mastered thats not Bollywood, you've decided that "hey, I've found my true calling, my meaning of life?!" and you feel SO liberated that you just. let. it. all. out. for. the. whole. world. to. see.?

I am NOT talking about letting out your boy for some fresh air!

I'm talking about opening up your heart for all to dissect and see, to hold, to caress, to love while it is still beating palpably and ominously.  And in a weird, intoxicating way, everybody embracing it... with the atherosclerosistic flaws.

When I wrote the last serious post, I guess I just had it. Not in a "I'm fed up, folks, I'm divorcing you!", but more like, "I love you guys so much, but I'm so sorry for.."

I wrote, and wrote, and wrote.. about the disappointment I am assuming I have been, and apologized for future expected disappointments. I wrote with lumps in my throat, oblivious to how silly the whole concept was. I wrote in my blog. Because if I were to tell them to their face, they would think being single has evoked PMS symptoms in me everyday and I needed to be admitted to a mental institute (hai becchari, she's so lonely now she's talking about naansense!" Which is so not true, because I am not lonely! Just... bored!) Somehow somewhere in all that, readers commented, and within that..... I found my acceptance and my validation.

Validation that I'm not alone, validation that it's ok to go against the tide, validation that it's ok to be human and not the stereotypical desi girl. Welcome to the 21st century, baby!

I wanted to hold on to that feeling like a new mum holds on to her newborn. I just didn't want to let it go. I wanted to kiss it and smother it.  Do you know how hard it is to want something SO BADLY, and when you finally get it, you just don't ever want to let it go? I embraced....  no, I grabbed it. I held on to it. I wanted to smother it, bask in its new mum glow, and just enjoy every second of that ethereal feeling of that post-maternity leave because heaven knows when you will feel that sublime again.

And then you grow up and remember that if you don't speak up, your readers will leaaaaaaaaaave you and unbookmark you and write you off like next day's garbage!!!!

So here I am.

How you been? :)

I'm graduating in 2 weeks, and I can't wait to be kicked around the curb like every new post-grad out there!

Comments

[dave]

we love you ish! :)

[Zen]

Congratulations on your milestone!

[Mezba]

Ah graduation... the feeling... still have sometime to go for me...:-(