C-O-C-O C-H-A-N-E-L

I was never a devoted fan of biographies and biography related productions; books, movies, narrations. Always found it impossible, boring and downright excruciating; stories that revolve around one person. But in a sudden turn of events, I have actually given it a chance, if not made friends with, the lives of the famous, the influential and the successful. Yet, still I never jump onto every significant biography I come across; just the ones I find fascinating or shares particular indulgences I do. That being said, a movie revolving around Coco Chanel, was like a fantasy come true for me…

Coco avant Chanel, so as the title goes, delves into the life of the woman who changed the face of fashion before she was the legendary couturier Chanel… Forget about the plot and the synopsis, nothing groundbreaking of sorts in this movie. But Audrey Tatou, I’d swear she embodied Chanel like no other actress could have remotely pulled off. It was like seeing Coco Chanel herself, and whatever she was described to be in close perfection through this talented French actress.

Again, like I said, biographies like this have been produced before; settings and casts to match the original piece of history. Coco avant Chanel similar. But what makes it stand out was not HOW the movie went about painting the picture; it was about WHAT the movie was trying to convey. Of course undeniably, HOW, helped, and I must agree, very much…

It was an inspiration; she personified eccentricity and embraced liberal thoughts and freedom of expression, never succumbing to judgment. She defied stereotyping not because she wanted to be different, it was because she was; hiding that would have been hypocrisy and the world would have never witnessed the birth of a legend. NO, Coco avant Chanel wasn’t interesting because it had fancy 20’s sets and lovely corset trends, neither was it intriguing because the men where what every women looked for; chivalrous, dashing and rich. Coco avant Chanel was mind-blowing because it captured religiously the life of Gabrielle 'Coco' Chanel. How everything managed to look and feel so real was surreal… So captivating, so poignant, so ethereal…

Cookies and Cakes almost felt sorry for me because I couldn’t hold back my tears… I was sobbing all the way from GSC Cinema in Longstanding Mall to Drag House along Loud Street (a 15 minute drive). Why i cried; God knows, i don't!!!

Myself: I think I better stop crying or else people will start assuming something went wrong between us.

(oh ya, of course, the entire island population think we’re both attached)

Cookies and Cakes: I KNOW!!! Like I dumped you and you’re all sad and teary!!!

Ah yes, I am forever changed!!! We’ll see; most people don’t believe it when I say I have changed until I do turn heads. *winks*

Changed because I felt idiotic because of slowly losing my touch with fashion, (Cookies and Cakes seems to know more about the runways now than i do; fashion was MY thing!), never have I thought an audio-visual perception of what I have read so much about, turn out to be so powerful. I lost myself because it all seemed seemingly impossible yet so evidently true…

Coco Chanel was never married. She was once asked why she hadn't married the well-to-do Duke of Westminster and she replied: 'There have been several Duchesses of Westminster. There is only one Chanel'.

My current infatuation; Odissi...

I love this video of the moskya piece done by a certain odissi group from Orissa. Moksya is part of odissi that is usually performed at the end of a show. A sort of peace-be-upon us note to an odissi peformance.

This Moksya is the Guru Kelucharan Mohapatra style of odissi.
Besides moksya, Odissi also includes, Mangalacharan, Pallavi, Abhinaya.

Mangalacharan: the opening performance of any given odissi performance with respect to a certain Hindu deity and finished with the Sabha Pranam, a series of moves to wrap the piece.

Pallavi: A purely technical piece that allows the dancer to show of the various mudras (hand gestures), and the intricate footwork of odissi movements.

Abhinaya: a solely dramatic piece with minimal technical movements, relating/narrating a story aimed at showcasing the dancer's talent at expressing various abhinaya (literally translates to expression).

Of celibacy and cocktails...

Practicing celibacy, how possible is it these days? Leave aside being sexually inactive, what about monogamy?? I really wonder...

Nowadays you just can’t seem to tell if that sweet innocent-looking girl you thought you knew so well loves orgasm and knows how to enjoy it. Or that certain married man who you were introduced to starts sending you touchy messages, always ending with an uncomfortable note of stereotypical not-so-pleasant appellation “sayang”, “dear”, “darling”.

Eugh!!! *gags*

Well, that wasn’t what I am going to whine away about anyways. I have questioned this ever since I had come in terms with my sexuality and until present times still wonder why procreational activities were designed to be desirable. God wanted men to flood the world, ridding it of its perfect balance?? Reproducing was meant to be profoundly appeasing???

*knocks head*

Why do I even bother? I have just decided to turn a celibate and with that a former smoker and a sober health-junkie. However weaning off cigarettes has been challenging with multiple waves of carb-cravings and being at lost when the thing I usually resort to when I am depressed is presently absent.

When I did mention this to Cookies and Cakes, he was supportive at first giving me two thumbs and toes up *face squirms* but eventually turned to his usual fake drama-queen expressions of trying to (supposedly) make me feel remorseful. This has been one of the more better façade of Cookies and Cakes; his ability to be spontaneously amusing and on the same note provocative. His ideas although sometimes expressed in a matter-of-factly fashion, bears, in one way or another very insightful point of views.

*scrolls text messages and LOL’s*

Alcohol has been pleasant, I shall not deny, especially when consumed till inhibition becomes thin. Thin enough to dwell into careless yet calculated risks of abiding solely what the heart desires. But remorse for allowing this worldly pleasure to slip away is null. I shall still consume alcohol, but it will be for the simple reason of tasting the array of heavenly concoctions it can be made into rather than its ability to induce intoxication.

Coconut flavoured rum, orange liquor, grand marnier, pineapple studded glasses of pina colada, sweet crushed ice of the daiquiris, the simplicity yet satisfying merge of orange juice in vodka and yes, of course, the refreshing blend of mint in mohjito. Drinking pleasure shall be because that particular serving of perfectly grilled red meat (pink and rare with a nice charred crust perfectly seasoned and marinated) matches that well-aged Sauvignon Blanc or that dessert pie gets a touch of life with a little splash of apple flavoured rum.

I just HAD to type this with an empty stomach, DANG!!!

Anyways, here’s to good, healthy, impeccable living!!! Cheers!!!

Cookies and Cakes, we've got a dinner party to plan, and most definitely soon enough...

To look pretty...

I have been attempting to grow my hair in an effort to make my big debut as a cross dresser (a once in a lifetime affair) as convincible as possible. I did have it almost at shoulder length last year but a job interview came along crushing my 6 months stint of painstaking effort growing my mane. Now i am back at it, like it was never a huge deal, that 6 months i did survive a hideous styling of my crowing glory.

There has always been that interest in me; sex change. I always knew something was amiss, like this body was not meant for me, like those pair of testosterone factories and that ejaculatory device was not meant to be attached to my groin, like i should have had less male steroids and more oestrogen, like there was supposed to be enlarging, functional mammary glands where my hands go every time i am shocked! All that obviously did not happen but then again, i always wanted to know what if...

Would i have been attractive?

Would i have turned heads?

Would i have had men head over heels for me?

Could i walk down the road and have eyes following my swagger?

I guess I'll never know unless i did try. And i am positively going to be turning heads if i ever i strut around in women's clothing, for the wrong reasons or otherwise it is all up to the eyes of the beholder(s). Try, i shall, to look as closely to a woman i can; perfect, out-of-the-runway makeup, clothes to die for that plays to my strengths some women don't possess (i have been told so often than not that i had curves that would put women to shame), not forgetting a pair of killer heels, a bag to die for and soft luscious curls that sit pretty over my shoulders.

I know how its like to look pretty when properly dolled up. My dancing endeavors during varsity days were those times i wish i could re-live again and again. One such experience was during a performance in capital city. It was some semi-classical piece and i had all the time in the world to get my eyeliner, lip colour and blush right (its not like i always don't). The event was a wedding reception and we were hired to perform in a rather tasteful, quaint restaurant. It was a small yet a glamorous event with attendees not exceeding 200 people. I remember this lesbian fellow dancer of mine who had her girlfriend drive her over so that she could leave after her slot as she pleased. She was the feminine one whilst her better half was very much the more masculine of the two (think of the gay roles; top and bottom). Off makeup it seemed like Mr. Lesbian friend didn't seem to give two hoots about me, however, 15 minutes later, when i was putting on some final touches of rouge and mascara, Mr. Lesbian friend suddenly did a 180 and started flirting with me. She even managed to slide her hand up and down my thighs.

Even Mr. P used to admire me, repeatedly mentioning that i would make a stunning female. I miss times when someone you love so deeply acknowledges your presence. I long for someone staring at me when i am putting on my lip gloss and then turns around and shakes his head in disbelief that i wasn't born female. (Cookies and Cakes, i am sorry, i am really not dwelling on anything. Its just that i don't want to forget good times, even if it was with the wrong person, for the wrong reasons).

Shit, i missed my first half of The Nanny!!!

I fear not (rats not included)

Cookies and Cakes’ clairvoyance has been sufficiently proven true.

Prediction #1: Metro Me will walk down the aisle in his birth attire. Status quo: Metro Me would love to do it.

Prediction #2: (this was more like a curse actually) My discipline teacher should just get a stroke and die leaving us in peace. Status quo: RIP Mr. What’s His Name Again???

Prediction #3: I would go on to attain a degree in biotechnology and then do my MSc, PhD, and become a lecturer against my will (I wanted to become a fashion designer). Status quo: postgraduate student, MSc. Food Technology.

Thank God he didn’t predict my marriage in the future!!! With a woman!!! God it would have been disastrous.

I tend to think a lot these days because I get so much time being alone. A year ago I could’ve never imagined myself being alone but now I love it… Being alone gives me so much time to mull over things in my life.

What will I be doing 10 years from now???

Will I find love???

Will my spiritual path bear its ultimate fruit???

Will I have a gender reassignment surgery (GRS)???

If I did have the GRS how would life be for me???

Will I still be in this country???

How much are my parents going to push me into a marriage???

Will Mr. P still be as attached to me as he is now???

So many thoughts run in my mind. So many possibilities, so many outcomes, so many decisions. Nevertheless I forbid allowing my mind to run afar. Things at hand, in present times matter most. My Masters Degree for instance, my weight loss journey and my family and friends, all these are the parts of my life currently on the top of my priority list, preceding any other miscellaneous insignificant worries.

I fear no more…

I fear not what the future holds.

I fear not what I’d lose in the future.

I fear not erroneous decisions I may formulate.

I fear not where life takes me.

I fear not.

Except rats, I fear, yes I FEAR!!!

Poor Miss Cries My Heart Out....

10 minutes to 4 a.m., my dog was barking at something outside draining my hope of getting to bed earlier den I usually do…

A few days ago I met up with a former varsity mate, my senior, Miss Cries My Heart Out. To my best of information she was together with a junior of mine Mr. Promiscuous Footballer. He happened to be a close friend of Mr. P. She WAS in a relationship with him; past-tense.

So happened that she revealed a part of her past to Mr. Promiscuous Footballer which he used against her. Things got ugly and she decided it was in her best interest that the attachment was disposed of. She also suspected him of two-timing her with another girl I know from a popular social networking webpage *winks* (sadly enough, Promiscuous Footballer had played his cards so well that both the women felt he was trustworthy.)

During our meet-up none of the horrifying details of our previous romantic endeavors were discussed-a good part of which was already conversed over a lengthy 3 hour call. She ended up knowing about Mr. P (only in due time will my confessions bear results, if which, stays stagnant, I have no worries over).

Now, here’s the catch. I know how hard it is to find out the person who could potentially be your husband is cheating on you. What if Cries My Heart Out finds out that he sleeps with men too? The cherry on top of the cake would be the repulsive fact (repulsive to her of course) that I am among one of the many suitors in his pursuit for sexual contentment over the past 3 years? What’s worse is that I am more than just a likely one night stand for him. I am a friend, one he has known well enough and even takes to confiding in (take note, i never slept with the guy.)

At that point, I felt nauseous; I felt vomit coming right up to my throat; word vomit. But suddenly something came over me; it pulled me back into my past, like falling into a deep hole and rising again when my worst nightmare materialized about a year ago. I had suspected Mr. P of having sexual favours done for him by other men and that just killed me… It still terrifies the living daylights of me if ever, God unwilling, I get attached and happen to find my boyfriend smooching with another pretty boy. I know how that feels… Jealousy is such a destructive semblance, either it destroys you, or drives you to destroy the one you love. So I took one gulp of my papaya juice and smiled back at her, whilst she was continuously ranting about her lack of control over emotional turbulence.

I texted Cookies n Cakes about this; although he took it coolly, I knew he was slightly dazed, if not mildly horrified. I found the whole matter rather revolting because it shows how this means for procreation has become revenue for worldly satisfaction. However, I do agree how marriage bonds are tightened by keeping sexual ventures wild and fascinating. Marriage, I believe is to be sealed with love or otherwise, is to be filled with love post-sealing. I am an upholder of monogamy or rather I have become so, ascertaining to myself that random sex is like filling your voids with abrasives. It deepens these voids.

Maybe I should talk to Promiscuous Footballer to change his ways… Wonder what is it that his heart lacks…???

Soon enough I had to leave Peaceful Suburb, after leaving my senior at home. Peaceful Suburb is definitely an ideal place to spend old age in. Cheap real estate, quiet setting, and well-equipped with basic necessities at arm’s length. To my wrath however it is a place I would never chose to live in because, in close proximity would be Mr. P’s Granma’s place where he so often frequents… Although, there is an exception; IF ever in the future that I decide to make it my abode, it shall only materialize if i am happily attached with the man of my dreams well into old age…

I am hungry; I hope there’s some leftover canned tuna in the refrigerator…

Mr. P in the slumps??? No NO!!! MR. P DEFINITELY IN THE SLUMPS!!!

*turns on mobile phone after putting on charger*

My phone was dead for the past hour and a half or so.

*multiple guitar solos*

My incoming message tone.

It was Cookies and Cakes.

Text message #1 CnC: Its been half an hour.wats goin on?

Text message #2 CnC: Ur still wif them?

Text message #3 CnC: ___ could be right after all. Im not goin to get myself involved wif tis particular matter of urs anymore.i don’t see how tis guy is worthy for u to retain such a close friendship wif him only to constantly be depressed bout him.not only he took money from u, he was manipulatin u sexually,those are good enuf to judge his character s a person.i don’t see him s a man of any integrity nor dignity worthy of ur time n effort.yes, I am bein judgemental but tis is it. Like I always hv said,do wat u deem fit for urself.all e best.u hv my blessings.dun hv to give me e scoop.i dun wanna know.i hv better things to focus on.goodnight.

That was his text messages, every word, every space and every ‘sms’ simplification in place. I pity Cookies and Cakes because i gave him such a hard time over MSN prior to leaving out with Mr. P. His disappointments are justified. I know he doesn’t wholeheartedly gives his blessings to me, AND I know he does NOT, wholeheartedly, want me to do what I deem fit for myself (because he knows I am someone who cannot think straight at times; oh wait gayly forward, I hope CnC doesn’t mind me quoting).

But something told me I cannot get out of this one. Something told me that if I sit down in ignorance in my room that I will never know what it is like facing Mr. P after knowing deep down that I have truthfully let him go (yes, as much as it may seem I may have ignored him, letting him go was another issue altogether).

I had to do this... I have to face him.

My feelings told me (more like shouted to me);

YOU ARE GONNA REGRET THIS, YOU ARE GONNA COME BACK AND CRY YOUR HEART OUT!!!!

My gut, my intuition, my inner subconcious, my sixth sense angel; i would love to think that it was indeed God; whom told me (in the most comforting and composed voice):

Go, you have nothing to be afraid of. You are finally over him, i know you are... Go, i am here for you, i will watch over you... All you are gonna feel is resentment for him... Just go... I am here...

The meet up was stupid and a downright waste of my precious time. Bloody hell, i had some favours to settle for my future sister-in-law. OMG i just heard myself saying my future sister-in-law's favour is more important then Mr. P. (To begin with I was never really excited about this new addition to our family. Nothing negative but it just didn't sit right with me. SHE didn't sit right with me.) And Mr. P WAS obviously on top of the World for me... Well, evidently, things have changed. Mr. P is at de slumps now apparently.

I was afraid, I must admit, that I would be seeing those two entities I never wanted to see again, Mr. Depression and Mr. Loneliness, post meeting up with Mr. P.

Alas, they were certainly back, waiting to graciously welcome me into their midst, but I am amused that they dared show up because…

*takes a long pause and smiles repeatedly*

Both of them were wearing expressions of dejection…

I greeted them with a smile and went on with my task ahead...

They realized they were undeniably wasting their times here with me…

For once I saw them leave, giving me thumbs up… They set me free… They let me go… I am of no use to them anymore… They can no longer feed on me…

And so I finally thank God that I am free, after three years of struggle, because, I decided to take this leap of faith and meet my worst nightmare once and for all!!!

PS: I will definitely meet Mr. P again, have no doubt about that, but in a coffin or otherwise, I am done shedding tears for that asshole!!!

CnC, you owe me a nice long bear hug… I AM INDEED BACK!!!!!!!

Have i been that shallow???

I never realized the amount of satisfaction I would get out of blogging… To just whine away about how things are not going right or that certain B**CH is ruining your life or an amusing incident… Bloody hell I am getting obsessed…

And that wouldn’t be the first thing I have obsessed about…

Form 2: Musical instruments, shiny ones.

Form 3: Mascara and false eyelashes (still am).

Form 4: Impressing people (I did the weirdest things).

Form 5: Bootleg pants (u don’t know how many pants I have ruined because I could not fit into one off the rack) and Mr. I Think I Am Too Good to Be True.

Form L6: Still Mr. I Think I Am Too Good to Be True.

Form U6: Losing weight and fashion (I was sometimes a walking fashion disaster!!!).

Varsity Freshman: Dancing and a relationship.

2nd year: God brother (this was totally idiotic!!!).

3rd year: Mr. P, dancing and dance makeup.

4th year: Only Mr. P.

Post graduation: Still Mr. P.

Masters 1st year: Losing weight.

*stares in disbelieve at the list*
Strangely enough, obsessing over something has made me strive to achieve the very thing I yearned for.

The shiny musical instrument is sitting in my store room, moaning its very existence. A waste of cash but at least the satisfaction of owning it is fulfilled. :-P

I know sufficient techniques and have enough tools to do good eye makeup.

I learnt that being good at something on your own is the only way to impress anyone.

Boot leg pants are a fashion faux pas for me because it makes me look stout. My first taste of love’s painful sting came from being hopelessly infatuated by Mr. I Think I Am Too Good to Be True and with that an experience of what raging hormones can do.

I learnt about good fashion and how to dress myself to conceal what I lack (or sometimes have too much of) and reveal what made me look good.

I was one of my former varsity’s best Indian male dancers and was too preoccupied to have a relationship (I thank God now).

God brother turned out to be the second infatuation in my life and I was deceived by this shadow that he was there to look after me. That, was definitely a disaster I should’ve seen coming, plus, it happened to be love’s 2nd sting for me, not to mention a huge reality check!!!

Mr. P, well that I can’t even talk about… Still picking up myself from this last plunge into dark waters.

Losing weight, 14 kilos and 2 dress sizes smaller in 3 months!!!

Cookies and Cakes used to mock me about all these crazy fascinations I used to have…
CnC: You should just marry a bootleg pants!!! (oh wait, or was it Mr. Metro Me, whom said it???)

CnC: Hahahaha!!! I still remember how you used to make false eyelash out of paper and Bespectacled Snake and you used to stick on your eyelids!!!

CnC (when he got drunk one night): Please drive carefully Mr. Fat Man!!! I don’t wanna get a ticket!!! (Why did this last one pop up??? Hmmmmpppphhh…..)

Anyways, I am doing well now, no more hideous outfits, no more macha conventions, no more paper false eyelash (I get the real thing these days), no more being fat and no more being hopelessly in love. *fakes jitters* I know Cookies and Cakes, I deserve the three C’s, Caviar, Champagne and Chanel (maybe not Chanel anymore, so overplayed, maybe Cavalli???)

Grandma's place......

Grandma’s place was filled with bees… Curse my cousin sis who burnt the entire bunch of them before I could snap a picture!!! It was full of drama, like it was a swarm of killer bees and the entire household freaked out, and panic shouts and;

“Don’t go there its filled with them!!!”

“There’s one more there!!!”

“CURSE THE BEES!!! Kill them!!! KILL THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

But the truth was, it was only about 30-40 of them and they didn’t come attacking in a whole swarm, they came in groups of 3’s and 4’s in succession… But de drama!!! I could’ve sworn that it was like reliving an 80’s horror movie of sorts, “ATTACK OF THE KILLER BEE SWARM!!!” with lights turned off in the house so that we can lure them into a place for them to be smacked by newspaper weapons…

*laughs heartily*

My grandma’s place has always been this lively; either it’s something like this or some prayers whereby one of my relatives falls into a deep trance and go berserk or my cousin mysteriously disappears and a whole commotion goes on about why and how he had vanished…

Mom: I want to go to grandma's place tonight. Must do dressing for mama (my uncle-in-law, whom got married to my aunt, my dad’s sister).

Myself: Ok, what time??? How’s mama’s leg??? (was recently hospitalized for a bad leg infection and was back home nursing it, my mom is now helping out, changing de bandages and re-dressing his wound. Mom was an experienced nurse)

Another previous occasion,

Mom: Attha veethele gathering irekkan da… Veliya porena sikkirama vantere… (There’s going to be a gathering at grandma's tonight… If you’re going out better be back early.

So yea, I grew up there, and I love being in my grandma’s wooden house on stilts. The quintessential “kampong” house… So many of our get-togethers and special prayers of sorts has happened there, with children shouting, running around the house chasing each other (I used to be one of them many years ago) and adult women chattering away about how they have been getting the latest scoop on new designs of Indian attire and also the men, playing cards with glasses of Jack Daniels in ice for their drinking pleasure…

I love that place but Cookies and Cakes, always make fun of me because of the amount of food I end up ingesting every time a visit is due…

Mobile text;

Cookies and Cakes: Wat r u doing up so late?

Myself: At grandma’s place….

Cookies and Cakes: Patti!!! Atta!!! N ate!!! Helloooo…..*waves frantically*

Myself: LMAO!!! I jus told dem u said hi….

*tells people in the house that CnC said hi*

Cookies and Cakes: Pls dun go parading around wif my reply. k…its embarrassin… SO wat hav u ate ther??? Sum chicken curry with thosai n lotsa ghee???

Text messaging ends, well, at least for the time being…

My grandma and her daughter, my aunt, are great cooks… They make the best Indian curries, sweets and dishes… I love having dinners at their place but sadly it comes with a heavy calorie tag… But more than the fact that food is definitely lip-smacking delicious, it’s all the love my aunt puts into her cooking that makes the difference… Every time I am there I am taken back to revisit my childhood… I had a very interesting time growing up in a house where grandma had chicken coops, we had mango trees (which heavily bears fruits during its peak; bags and bags of juicy orange fleshy mangoes), and there’s this constant buzz of relatives around the house… Sometimes I miss those carefree, jolly, gay days when all we were worried about was our unsettled Math homeworks (12x3= …………36 rite???)

Fancy chasing a rooster for slaughter anyone????

India, a remote village, a whole lot of peculiar circumstances

1st May 2010, I woke up at 7.59 am crying... I had one of those dreams which I hate to have about the person I love. Although it was in a very amusing setting (I was India and belonged to one of the remote villages there), it was serious enough to make me cry. We (myself, Mr. P and Confused Gal, the person whom Mr. P fell head over heels for), were back in the village like long lost sons and daughters of the land, whom had left the “nest” in pursuit of a better life in the city and are now back to rejoice with our home people and awaiting a promising answer from Confused Gal to marry Mr. P.

*shakes head in disbelieve*

I just thought to myself, how ridiculous can this dream get!!!

Anyway, the story so goes that Confused Gal had given an answer close enough to a “yes” and so a huge marriage ceremony was in due with the entire village in full swing of somewhat an event close to a fiesta. We were supposedly the pride of the village and the villagers having been successful in our education and our careers in the city, in other words, the crème de la crème of the almost God forsaken village (any Tamil movie from the 80’s would give anyone an overview of this scenario I am trying to get across). I was the bridge between the two of them-Mr. P and Confused Gal-having brought them together after a long bout of uptight silence.

Even in the real world this was indeed true and I am trying to bridge the two, in what seems to me every bit delicate a task as painstaking as pinning embroidery onto a couture gown made of luxurious satin silk. I have also made the fact clear that I will stand by Mr. P, because he is the love of my life to Confused gal and the entire Indian residents of the Hostel D5 (yes, so it is apparent that Confused Gal recently found out that I hopelessly adore the very man she loves and with that being said that I was certainly gay-how that happened is an entirely different episode, and nonetheless filled with odd circumstances).

Reverting to the dream, I departed, leaving the happy couple to their glory and hid myself in a place I knew no one would look for me, while Mr. P was in ecstasy that the girl he wanted had finally agreed to holy matrimony.

Alas, Mr. P suddenly realised that something, or rather, someone was missing...

Talking in happy tones in Tamil...

Villager #1: Apperum inimel vazhkai oh ho ne irekke pothe ungalekke (So, life is going to be all bliss for u now)

Mr. P: Nandri, athe sari ne sonnone enakke manasele appe than ore santhosamum nimmatiyum vanteci... (Thanks, only when she agreed, I heaved a sigh of relieve and felt a sense of content)

Villager #2: Apperum enna, siringe aiya, ninge kai kudunge, mothelle kai kudengge... (So that’s settled then, smile, give me a hand shake, give me a hand shake first.)

*villager reaches for Mr. P’s hand and Mr. P accepts the gesture of well-wishing*

Mr. P (looking around searching for something): Ille ne, ennamo kaana pona matiri ore feeling...*pause and realisation* Hari!!!, Hari yenge??? (No brother, I am feeling like something is missing, Hari!!!, where’s Hari?)

Sensing the troubled expression on their most valued groom-to-be’s face the villagers go all out on a head search for me and finally a lady spots me when I decide to take a peek at the commotion happening outside the small hut from which I decided to conceal myself in. Mr. P and Confused Gal lead by a group of villagers almost hundreds strong stood in front of the hut waiting for my reaction. Wind was blowing so fiercely that the “mundani” (part of the Indian attire called the “saree”, thrown over the left shoulder resembling a dangling shawl) of the dark green saree Confused Gal was wearing was airborne (now imagine that under the 80's lenses.

*I literally laugh out loud after reading the paragraph above* (again, I find the scene so ludicrous)

Confused Gal (with serious conviction): Senior, na ok ne sollale... (Senior, I didn’t agree...)

There’s this tradition in my varsity during my undergraduate years among the Indians, whereby we were told to address our seniors, well, “senior” before their names, to affirm their seniority, naturally Confused Gal was my junior and so she called me Senior Hari (personally, I found it rather revolting that the word was used on me as well). Interestingly enough, she used that very term even in my dream set in a remote village in Southern India.

Myself: Yen ***, yen??? Unakke enna tha perechane??? Avan munje pare!!! Unakke innum tha puriyalaya??? *loud sobs* (Why Confused Gal, why??? What is your bloody problem??? Look at his face!!! *points to Mr. P* Don’t you still get it???

~Dream ends~

I wake up and it all felt so real, tears rolling down into my ears, heavy breathing and the fact that something very vivid had been planted into my subconscious or maybe it was already there... I spent the next 5 minutes crying to allow myself to ease into a calmer state of mind, venting out that intense emotional constrain i have been put through. The truth is I am wishing so wholeheartedly that this two people get together and start they journey into their own lives, leaving me to depart from their existence, getting a closure on my dreadfully meaningful time with Mr. P.

Truth be told, although I have come to terms with myself that I shall live a life of abstinence and spirituality (something that, in the means that I have learnt it from, sees the need for a spouse or sexual contentment redundant when it comes to the journey of finding and discovering God), I am yet to fully leave this episode of my life behind me. Finding love in another has been everything my life has meant to me all these breathing years that it was a paradigm shift in my mindset that finding your Creator was the greatest gift, the most truest and everlasting one, that one can bestow upon one’s self... Yes, finding God is not impossible and He’s with you, within you and forever looking after you.

Discover Him and you discover eternal bliss...

As for this dream, although there was a vast difference in the ‘“sites” and sounds’ (Malaysia and southern India, a university campus and a remote village, university students and villagers, jeans and tees and traditional Indian attire), an event with close resemblance to this has actually happened in my life. Which was probably why I was deeply affected by it, enough to write about it here...