I feel like a walking zombie.
I thought the worst was over.
Never knew things could get worse.
Worse than losing someone you love is losing your own self.
I am lost, now more than ever.
I keep looking up to God to give me something to move on...
It has been over a week and still nothing...
I don't know who I am, what I want, where I would like to go, how I wish my life would be.
I am lost. Totally and completely lost.
I feel like my life is at a dead-end.
I can't relate to feelings; sad, happy, love, anger, optimism, cynicism, hope, faith; all seem ambiguous...
My life seems ambiguous...
The only thing I feel is this empty space in my head and my heart; an empty space that weighs more than I can carry...
The only thing I see is a routine and a plan that I stick to for reasons I have stopped comprehending.
The only thing I hear is sound; no more music or melody.
The only people whom I care for are those close to me. Even then I don't feel for them. I just do what is socially required of me as a son/brother/friend/relative.
The only thing I sense are the tangibles that are directly or indirectly involved in the aforementioned routine.
*shrug*
*a slight maneuver of the head from left to right*
*a stare into blank space*
PS: This has got nothing to do with Married Man. He may have been a contributing factor but there is bigger picture involved. One I can't seem to paint or picture...
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
If Only My Ears Could Emit Steam!
Why did I believe this could happen??? Am I that desperate and needy??? As if the past week hasn't been tough on me. Now this??!!!
Ok, here's the deal... The last week has been one so frustrating that all I could do was cry!
I feel that strongest are those whom can control anger than those whom vent it out through physical violence.
So I cry.
The deeper I got into my thesis, the more I realised I don't belong where I am. I cannot relate to the things I am doing anymore. I feel numb. I am not earning much dough. I can't seem to find the time to do my exercise routines and I am putting on weight. My performance in odissi classes is dwindling. I can't focus on my work. I can't focus on where this is going and I can't focus on my life! I don't know who I am and what I want anymore.
And the more I see people around me doing better than I am, in fields of their choice, the more I become bitter about my predicament! IT IS SO BLOODY FRUSTRATING!!!
To add to this, the 24th of April came but Married Man never... 25th passed, and now it is the 26th. I guess he forgot that I existed. So I called. Just to make sure I wasn't jumping to conclusion about anything (who knows, he may have died-God forbid, he may have been sick, or he may still be in The Land of Temples, or he may be busy, or whatever valid reason for him not contacting me).
But horror of horrors, my cynical suspicion became true.
He picked up and answered in the most casual manner one could possibly sing a tone to.
My blood pressure shot up.
And again, like my cool collected self, I decided that confrontation is not the answer.
I hit the 'Call End' button.
I felt like an idiot.
And I am now, more angry than ever!!!
Ok, here's the deal... The last week has been one so frustrating that all I could do was cry!
I feel that strongest are those whom can control anger than those whom vent it out through physical violence.
So I cry.
The deeper I got into my thesis, the more I realised I don't belong where I am. I cannot relate to the things I am doing anymore. I feel numb. I am not earning much dough. I can't seem to find the time to do my exercise routines and I am putting on weight. My performance in odissi classes is dwindling. I can't focus on my work. I can't focus on where this is going and I can't focus on my life! I don't know who I am and what I want anymore.
And the more I see people around me doing better than I am, in fields of their choice, the more I become bitter about my predicament! IT IS SO BLOODY FRUSTRATING!!!
To add to this, the 24th of April came but Married Man never... 25th passed, and now it is the 26th. I guess he forgot that I existed. So I called. Just to make sure I wasn't jumping to conclusion about anything (who knows, he may have died-God forbid, he may have been sick, or he may still be in The Land of Temples, or he may be busy, or whatever valid reason for him not contacting me).
But horror of horrors, my cynical suspicion became true.
He picked up and answered in the most casual manner one could possibly sing a tone to.
My blood pressure shot up.
And again, like my cool collected self, I decided that confrontation is not the answer.
I hit the 'Call End' button.
I felt like an idiot.
And I am now, more angry than ever!!!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
To All Lesbians, Gays, AND Transsexuals; Rejoice!!!
I read a status update on Facebook today.
By one of my seniors from my former university.
I've heard about that saying before but today an idea struck me.
The status goes something like this...
'Sure God created Man before Woman, but then again you always make a rough draft before creating the final masterpiece...'
Then the light bulb went click on my head.
First came men,
Then women,
Then the lesbians, gays and transsexuals,
Voila! We're the final product of God's most perfect!
PS: No offence to straight people, it was meant purely for the purpose of humour!
Gays, lesbians and transsexuals whom are reading this please rejoice for we're flawless!!!
Man, I wish I could tell that right to her face.
It would have silenced her female chauvinistic thoughts for good!!!
Monday, April 18, 2011
My Choices
It doesn't help to feel helpless, especially when your best friends need you...
I wish I could just drop everything and just dash off to hold a friend's hand or give him/her a hug.
I wish I had the luxury of time and space for this.
We are eternally bound by the need to fulfill our worldly duties; to our family, to ourselves, our loved ones, our friends. And priorities govern these duties.
Like so many other people, I have always put family above everything else, sometimes even myself and my choices. Although I have always felt like that was more often than not, detrimental to achieving my utmost potential in so many ways, I stand by my choice (not always whole-heartedly). And like everything in life, it ultimately boils down to one's own choices. Every split second decision we formulate based on possibilities and consequences is exactly that; our choices. I have moaned, cried, stressed, beat myself up even, over so many things that have befallen me, all of which I recently decided was juvenile.
Who we are, what we do, things we perceive, outcomes we expect, achievements we desire, likes we have, semblances we hate, people we love, devils we abhor; all these are more or less the manifestations of everything us. People were never designed to be blatantly categorised and and distinguished into Columns A, B and C, in fact nothing in this world was. And so, I have learned, more or less, to stand by my choices in life, which makes me, me...
I decided to blow Mr. P.
I decided to start inhaling cigarette smoke.
I decided to blow whomever I have blown so far.
I decided to take an interest in fashion and makeup.
I decided to start dance classes.
I decided to come back to my homeland to pursue my Masters Degree.
I decided to slack, in many ways.
I decided to slash my wrist once upon a time ago.
I decided to listen to my parents.
I decided to help my brother and stand by him should things go wrong.
I decided on which phone I want.
I decided to read the books I have read.
I decided to be me.
My choices and all.
I decided.
I stand by my choices and will try to never complain, because I made them.
Because I wanted to!
Monday, April 11, 2011
Drugged!
I remembered one very vivid scenario from my childhood as the common cold viral onset started bugging me earlier today. I have had body temperature so high that I would sometimes go delirious when I was younger. There were times I saw thorns growing out of my blanket, my room space getting smaller (I am not claustrophobic) and thoughts that my uncle was an illegitimate child (I always wondered where that came from).
But one experience stood the test of time and still haunts me. Mom told me later when I regained consciousness of the real world that I was standing naked in the living hall mumbling something like, "avange enna panrange veliye, avangale pogeh sollenggeh!!!" Translated, "what are those people doing outside, ask them to leave!" Thank God only mom was around and I was probably only 13 or 14 years old. The tale progressed with her rushing me into the bathroom and drenching me in cold water. I still do not remember anything about it all except when the cold water was trickling down my face it felt like the planet Earth was being washed down the side of my face, through my shoulders and into the gutter! Epic, I know!
Although generally healthy a person, I've always had problems getting over a cold. Coughing would continuously disturb my slumber, I would wake up every other morning with the back of my throat just clogged with phlegm, sometimes it would be smeared with blood and this would go on for about a week and a half in most instances. I would become almost immobile the first two or three days and to make matters worse, flatulence would make my stomach bloat and cause a sufficient amount of discomfort.
No, I am not HIV+ as I have discovered quite recently and not had sex since then.
I don't even know why I am writing about this when I have more exciting news in the bag.
After my last entry, that very day (7th April), my varsity's Indian Cultural Society was having it's annual Cultural Show. I hadn't planned on going but then Married Man suddenly calls me;
Married Man: Are you coming for the show?
Hdaran: No, it's too far away and I don't have transport. (the show wasn't held in the university because its main hall was under renovation)
Married Man: I thought you said you would be there? Come la!
Hdaran: No, I don't think so, besides, I am not even performing.
Married Man: I am. I am doing the opening performance.
Hdaran: WHAT??? Why didn't you tell me earlier???
Married Man: Well, since you said you were coming I thought it would be a surprise. So, are you coming?
Hdaran: I'll try.
So I did. After his group of dancers (alongside him) were done performing I went backstage to congratulate him.
Guess what, I met The Wife and The Daughter.
TERRIFYING!!! I KNOW!!!
But in reality it wasn't.
The wife was nice and his dancers were about their own business. I mean who wouldn't feel uncomfortable with a stranger in the room being introduced by your dance master? The daughter was adorable and his wife had such a beautiful smile on. I was introduced as an odissi dancer (I am, aren't I?) which justified the reason for me knowing him as a 'friend'.
But before all this happened, the first thing he did upon seeing me was, walk out of the dressing room and hug me. Indescribable! That feeling of being in the arms of someone you want to be in! I hanged out for a while with him and as he left he told me that he was leaving for the The Land of Temples the day after next. With one last hug, I stood there, high with feel-good hormones, drugged and light, as he drove off.
The Dream became but a distant dream.
I made my way back to my car.
24th of April seems so far away; would I be able to go on without this addiction till then?
But one experience stood the test of time and still haunts me. Mom told me later when I regained consciousness of the real world that I was standing naked in the living hall mumbling something like, "avange enna panrange veliye, avangale pogeh sollenggeh!!!" Translated, "what are those people doing outside, ask them to leave!" Thank God only mom was around and I was probably only 13 or 14 years old. The tale progressed with her rushing me into the bathroom and drenching me in cold water. I still do not remember anything about it all except when the cold water was trickling down my face it felt like the planet Earth was being washed down the side of my face, through my shoulders and into the gutter! Epic, I know!
Although generally healthy a person, I've always had problems getting over a cold. Coughing would continuously disturb my slumber, I would wake up every other morning with the back of my throat just clogged with phlegm, sometimes it would be smeared with blood and this would go on for about a week and a half in most instances. I would become almost immobile the first two or three days and to make matters worse, flatulence would make my stomach bloat and cause a sufficient amount of discomfort.
No, I am not HIV+ as I have discovered quite recently and not had sex since then.
I don't even know why I am writing about this when I have more exciting news in the bag.
After my last entry, that very day (7th April), my varsity's Indian Cultural Society was having it's annual Cultural Show. I hadn't planned on going but then Married Man suddenly calls me;
Married Man: Are you coming for the show?
Hdaran: No, it's too far away and I don't have transport. (the show wasn't held in the university because its main hall was under renovation)
Married Man: I thought you said you would be there? Come la!
Hdaran: No, I don't think so, besides, I am not even performing.
Married Man: I am. I am doing the opening performance.
Hdaran: WHAT??? Why didn't you tell me earlier???
Married Man: Well, since you said you were coming I thought it would be a surprise. So, are you coming?
Hdaran: I'll try.
So I did. After his group of dancers (alongside him) were done performing I went backstage to congratulate him.
Guess what, I met The Wife and The Daughter.
TERRIFYING!!! I KNOW!!!
But in reality it wasn't.
The wife was nice and his dancers were about their own business. I mean who wouldn't feel uncomfortable with a stranger in the room being introduced by your dance master? The daughter was adorable and his wife had such a beautiful smile on. I was introduced as an odissi dancer (I am, aren't I?) which justified the reason for me knowing him as a 'friend'.
But before all this happened, the first thing he did upon seeing me was, walk out of the dressing room and hug me. Indescribable! That feeling of being in the arms of someone you want to be in! I hanged out for a while with him and as he left he told me that he was leaving for the The Land of Temples the day after next. With one last hug, I stood there, high with feel-good hormones, drugged and light, as he drove off.
The Dream became but a distant dream.
I made my way back to my car.
24th of April seems so far away; would I be able to go on without this addiction till then?
Thursday, April 07, 2011
I Fucking Hate This!!!
I had a dream last night.
Mr. P and I were making love...
Mr. P and I were making love...
Feels like I just fell right back into him.
It felt so real.
I can still feel his hug.
His dark glistening skin.
His breathe.
His hair.
I can still feel his hug.
His dark glistening skin.
His breathe.
His hair.
I hate such dreams for they linger around for days...
Just when I am over him...
It isn't fair.
I've got a huge workload,
and someone I finally care for truly and deeply.
Mr. P cannot enter my life...
Not anymore...
I've just gotta grit my teeth and get over with this!!!
Sunday, April 03, 2011
Don't LIE!!!
Sitting in Starbucks having an ice-blended espresso, with my laptop should be inspiring enough to write, the very least, a decent entry. The truth however is less than desirable, I am fresh out of ideas...
I love blogging, really I do but my life is such a bore right now. My blog is a personal one where I write for myself (I can't emphasize this enough) but when life becomes somehow monotonous, I feel a little discouraged to even start typing.
However, here I am, trying to squeeze some sort of event in my life that was worth writing down to remember. Talking about draining my brains for that imaginary bulb to light up above my head, I realised, oh my God, I had a great time with Dear Teddy less than 24 hours ago. Dear Teddy is a friend of High Achieving Babes whom in turn became a friend of mine. Love her take on things and what tops that off is her hate of everything cliché. We went out last night for a dose of culture and booze. My dance school organised a cultural evening in celebration of the center's founder. That included 'mitrangam' (Indian drum) performances, 'sitar' (think Ravishankar) performances, a 'baratanatyam' solo and an odissi group performance. And later we had a stimulating conversation over German beers and some finger food. It was a fulfilling night. Just what I needed to break my monotony; a night out, well dressed with two of my favorite passions, Indian classical dance and booze!!!
Another funny thing happened, my lecturer calls on a Sunday morning (a.k.a this morning), something he doesn't do even if we've made prior arrangements to meet up the next day. The conversation went something like this;
Dr. T: So Hdaran, where are you?
Hdaran: (My first thoughts were he was going to ask to meet up.) I am at home sir.
Dr. T: Ok, so I can't meet you tomorrow because I will be busy so can we meet today, somewhere close to your place?
Hdaran: Errrmm, ok sir, what time and where?
Dr. T: About four, I'll confirm the place in a while.
Funny thing was, I was actually in campus. At that split second the only thing I wanted to avoid was to get dressed and go to the faculty for something work-related but alas, the repercussions of lying!!! So I dragged my tired ass out of bed and got myself dressed, took a bus, and safely hopped on the ferry when....;
*sms beeps*
Dr T: I am in *some God-forsaken place* now. We meet tomorrow morning, 9am.
FUCK!!! Now I am on my way to pointlessness!!! Had to then find a place to settle down and thank God I thought enough to bring my laptop along. Stuck at Starbucks, I called my brother and thank God he's night shift, which means he'd be driving to the island to work.
Lesson #1: Don't lie!!!
Lesson #2: DON'T LIE!!!
Lesson #3: Tell the truth!!!
Lesson #4: TELL THE FUCKING TRUTH!!!
Lesson #5: Always confirm an appointment BEFORE you make the journey!
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!
Maybe I should change my blog settings to;
"The blog that you are about to view may contain content only suitable for adults."
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The Epiphany About My Future...
I've had an epiphany about my future today. I have decided that after my Masters Degree in the bag I'd need to earn some dough. Life cannot go like this for me and even if I get a scholarship for my PhD it would be insufficient with the amount of longing I am having for good clothes, shoes, bags and cosmetics. Also not to mention the need I've had for a mode of transportation and needless to say the very idea earning money represents; standing on your own two feet.
The revelation bit; I was a candidate for a research assistant post in my current university because I had not only a degree in my hand but a published scientific paper. That however went down the drain because of my graduating cumulative grade point average, a shy 0.04 points of making the cut. My parents, however, desperately wanted me to get on with my Masters Degree. I had other plans, plans that included me getting a job and staying on it for a year or two before I pursue my studies. The plan received bad reviews from my parents and some of my relatives bringing it to a standstill (a particular cousin of mine was the ultimatum in my parents' stalwart belief that I should continue.) Such a screeching halt it was that I had to turn down two job offers (although one of it was disposed of on my own free-will besides the change in plans). I am not conveniently making an exception to overlook my participation in this decision making. True, at my age, one should have already had a firm say on his/her future but hey, haven't I mentioned before that I am a crowd-pleaser? I condone myself to what others' decide on my behalf so that, if and when it does not turn out right, my conscience does not taunt me. Facing that inner voice is tiring, so tiring that I am telling myself these days that right or wrong, perfect or less-than desirable, I bring/have brought upon myself whatever it is I either hate or love about my life (of course Mr. P will always be an exception, his presence really did screw my life up!!!).
My dad is in his final 3-decades-long-lap of his career. Come October, The High Priest will finally be a retiree. The High Priestess is freaking out because neither me nor Gdaran is stable in our careers. I have got at least 3 years more to go if I decide to continue to earn the Dr. title people so blindly revere. Gdaran, on the other hand, has got no idea of how, when, and where his career is either going to grow, become fruitful, or taking him. The household income upon The High Priest's retirement is going to be totally insufficient. My parents have always been independent and mom has always told me that when her sons are settled in life, she and her husband would have no problem getting along just fine because they'd have their sum of hard-earned retirement reimbursements. I always begged to differ because though I agree that my folks are one of those we-don't-need-our-children-to-be-our-parents-when-we-are-60 sort, the least I could do is spend the rest of my life taking care of them like they took care of the helpless baby me. What's the use of being gay if I can't do so much as ease my parents into God's hands when I am capable of doing so, now especially that I've ruled out procreating and nuptials. If that was going to happen I am going to have to put my feet down every now and then for even if mom may know best, son is now all the more wiser.
As the year ends, here's the 'plan';
Before graduation start looking for a lecturing position. That will easily rake in a good three to four thousand MYR;
Spend three or four years making the best out of that income;
And when that is done get a PhD in a field that I can actually relate to.
*fingers and toes crossed*
The revelation bit; I was a candidate for a research assistant post in my current university because I had not only a degree in my hand but a published scientific paper. That however went down the drain because of my graduating cumulative grade point average, a shy 0.04 points of making the cut. My parents, however, desperately wanted me to get on with my Masters Degree. I had other plans, plans that included me getting a job and staying on it for a year or two before I pursue my studies. The plan received bad reviews from my parents and some of my relatives bringing it to a standstill (a particular cousin of mine was the ultimatum in my parents' stalwart belief that I should continue.) Such a screeching halt it was that I had to turn down two job offers (although one of it was disposed of on my own free-will besides the change in plans). I am not conveniently making an exception to overlook my participation in this decision making. True, at my age, one should have already had a firm say on his/her future but hey, haven't I mentioned before that I am a crowd-pleaser? I condone myself to what others' decide on my behalf so that, if and when it does not turn out right, my conscience does not taunt me. Facing that inner voice is tiring, so tiring that I am telling myself these days that right or wrong, perfect or less-than desirable, I bring/have brought upon myself whatever it is I either hate or love about my life (of course Mr. P will always be an exception, his presence really did screw my life up!!!).
My dad is in his final 3-decades-long-lap of his career. Come October, The High Priest will finally be a retiree. The High Priestess is freaking out because neither me nor Gdaran is stable in our careers. I have got at least 3 years more to go if I decide to continue to earn the Dr. title people so blindly revere. Gdaran, on the other hand, has got no idea of how, when, and where his career is either going to grow, become fruitful, or taking him. The household income upon The High Priest's retirement is going to be totally insufficient. My parents have always been independent and mom has always told me that when her sons are settled in life, she and her husband would have no problem getting along just fine because they'd have their sum of hard-earned retirement reimbursements. I always begged to differ because though I agree that my folks are one of those we-don't-need-our-children-to-be-our-parents-when-we-are-60 sort, the least I could do is spend the rest of my life taking care of them like they took care of the helpless baby me. What's the use of being gay if I can't do so much as ease my parents into God's hands when I am capable of doing so, now especially that I've ruled out procreating and nuptials. If that was going to happen I am going to have to put my feet down every now and then for even if mom may know best, son is now all the more wiser.
As the year ends, here's the 'plan';
Before graduation start looking for a lecturing position. That will easily rake in a good three to four thousand MYR;
Spend three or four years making the best out of that income;
And when that is done get a PhD in a field that I can actually relate to.
*fingers and toes crossed*
Monday, March 28, 2011
Her Shoes Gave Her Away
No matter how well you do something, very few people acknowledge your accomplishments. Many zoom in right onto your flaw. Oormila hated that. She was one of the few people in her family whom enjoyed cocktails and beers every now and then but as her name suggests, her Indian background was her biggest hurdle. To her family of five siblings, Oormila was arbitrarily denoted as the black sheep.
"My Lord, Souwmya, your cupboards are filled with rum and vodka. You know, most Indian women store dried herbs and curry powder in their pantry," Oormila's eldest sister, Sharanya, never failed to make her feel like a pathetic excuse for a housewife. Oormila also hated the fact that her sister calls her Souwmya; the name of her arch-rival when she was 10. Souwmya and Oormila had a long standing competition of whom would fare better in life. At 32 years of age, Souwmya was one of the country's leading journalist married to an orthopedic specialist whose patients included famous TV personalities and movie stars. The false name was just a way her sister used to taunt her. It eventually became a permanent norm.
"Shar, when are you going to realise that your jokes are getting old? I organise dinner parties for Jay's clients you know and they all appreciate a good cocktail," Oormila was ever-ready to shove her sister out of the door for her sister was like her kyrptonite.
"Uh huh, Souwmya, I am not five and I know more than well that you have dinner parties, at most, four or five times a year," with a conviction that only she knew Oormila well enough, Sharanya stood her ground, her eyes transfixed on her baby sister waiting for a confession, or the very least a sign of defeat.
Oormila shook her head and made her way to the living hall. She never approved of her sister's judgments and never once bowed down to her deliberate mocking. Even when they were children, Sharanya took pride in unraveling Oormila's misdoings. It seemed like Sharanya's only goal was to make Oormila's life a living hell. Sharanya's excellent academic achievements only made it harder for Oormila to digest the fact that her sister's 100% percent score as the perfect daughter would always make her feel like the charity case; in most instances begging for attention. Even Sharanya's marriage managed to outshine Oormila's; a wealthy husband and three beautiful children.
Despite all her shortcomings, Oormila was madly in love with Jay and her only child Vassan. Just like herself, Jay was a rebel whose small design firm had more or less 5 major projects a year with a profit that paid their bills and afforded them comfortable lifestyle. Jay and Oormila met in college and worked in the same publishing company; they initially hated each other. Things took a turn for the better when the duo was appointed leaders of one of the firm's most important project. In typical Bollywood fashion, their constant disagreements and bickering revealed the best of both parties. Oormila fell for Jay's sincerity and dedication, Jay fell for her kind and unpretentious nature.
It was one of those busy Monday morning for Oormila; sending her beloved off to work, rushing Vassan off to school and running errands in and out of her house. Bills to be paid, chores to be finished and three lavatories in her home to be cleaned.
That day however, was not going to be just another busy Monday.
Sending off a banner on behalf of Jay, she almost lost her way in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. The client in question was a fashion designer whom worked in that uncanny location, which, in his defense, allowed him to solely concentrate on creating his garments. After confirming yet another guest for the small dinner parties she occasionally throws, Oormila walked out of the place with a beaming smile. She had just bagged herself a handsome discount for a turquoise cocktail dress adorning a mannequin in the designer's loft.
Her 5 year old Toyota Corolla had seen better days, or so she thought when a familiar Nissan Murano drove into the vicinity.
"Sharanya?" she actually heard herself saying it aloud.
Just as curiosity got the better of most people, she backed her car into an alley and looked on from a distance as her sister eased herself out comfortably from her perfectly polished Nissan.
"She doesn't belong in this place," again the words were not merely constructed in her mind.
As her sister made her way to the loft adjacent to the one Oormila came out of barely 10 minutes ago, she couldn't help but notice her in a pair of black stacked heels.
"Oh my God, those things have to be at least 5 inches tall. Shar, I never saw this pair in your shoe collection before!!!" she managed to sustain those words in her head. Oormila knew her sister was too much of a model housewife to be caught wearing something so sexy it bordered on slutty.
Oormila checked her Guess watch, "Damn! I'm late for the gynecologist!"
She did not follow her routine that day; she followed her instincts. She followed her sister.
Her snooping brought about a confrontation and a revelation.
From that day on, even though she kept her sister's dirty dark secret, she took comfort in knowing that from now on, Sharanya would never shoot her sneering comments. Oormila finally embraced her life and her imperfections for it did not involve parting her heart between the man she loved and her husband.
Sharanya's middle child was rightfully illegitimate.
"My Lord, Souwmya, your cupboards are filled with rum and vodka. You know, most Indian women store dried herbs and curry powder in their pantry," Oormila's eldest sister, Sharanya, never failed to make her feel like a pathetic excuse for a housewife. Oormila also hated the fact that her sister calls her Souwmya; the name of her arch-rival when she was 10. Souwmya and Oormila had a long standing competition of whom would fare better in life. At 32 years of age, Souwmya was one of the country's leading journalist married to an orthopedic specialist whose patients included famous TV personalities and movie stars. The false name was just a way her sister used to taunt her. It eventually became a permanent norm.
"Shar, when are you going to realise that your jokes are getting old? I organise dinner parties for Jay's clients you know and they all appreciate a good cocktail," Oormila was ever-ready to shove her sister out of the door for her sister was like her kyrptonite.
"Uh huh, Souwmya, I am not five and I know more than well that you have dinner parties, at most, four or five times a year," with a conviction that only she knew Oormila well enough, Sharanya stood her ground, her eyes transfixed on her baby sister waiting for a confession, or the very least a sign of defeat.
Oormila shook her head and made her way to the living hall. She never approved of her sister's judgments and never once bowed down to her deliberate mocking. Even when they were children, Sharanya took pride in unraveling Oormila's misdoings. It seemed like Sharanya's only goal was to make Oormila's life a living hell. Sharanya's excellent academic achievements only made it harder for Oormila to digest the fact that her sister's 100% percent score as the perfect daughter would always make her feel like the charity case; in most instances begging for attention. Even Sharanya's marriage managed to outshine Oormila's; a wealthy husband and three beautiful children.
Despite all her shortcomings, Oormila was madly in love with Jay and her only child Vassan. Just like herself, Jay was a rebel whose small design firm had more or less 5 major projects a year with a profit that paid their bills and afforded them comfortable lifestyle. Jay and Oormila met in college and worked in the same publishing company; they initially hated each other. Things took a turn for the better when the duo was appointed leaders of one of the firm's most important project. In typical Bollywood fashion, their constant disagreements and bickering revealed the best of both parties. Oormila fell for Jay's sincerity and dedication, Jay fell for her kind and unpretentious nature.
It was one of those busy Monday morning for Oormila; sending her beloved off to work, rushing Vassan off to school and running errands in and out of her house. Bills to be paid, chores to be finished and three lavatories in her home to be cleaned.
That day however, was not going to be just another busy Monday.
Sending off a banner on behalf of Jay, she almost lost her way in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. The client in question was a fashion designer whom worked in that uncanny location, which, in his defense, allowed him to solely concentrate on creating his garments. After confirming yet another guest for the small dinner parties she occasionally throws, Oormila walked out of the place with a beaming smile. She had just bagged herself a handsome discount for a turquoise cocktail dress adorning a mannequin in the designer's loft.
Her 5 year old Toyota Corolla had seen better days, or so she thought when a familiar Nissan Murano drove into the vicinity.
"Sharanya?" she actually heard herself saying it aloud.
Just as curiosity got the better of most people, she backed her car into an alley and looked on from a distance as her sister eased herself out comfortably from her perfectly polished Nissan.
"She doesn't belong in this place," again the words were not merely constructed in her mind.
As her sister made her way to the loft adjacent to the one Oormila came out of barely 10 minutes ago, she couldn't help but notice her in a pair of black stacked heels.
"Oh my God, those things have to be at least 5 inches tall. Shar, I never saw this pair in your shoe collection before!!!" she managed to sustain those words in her head. Oormila knew her sister was too much of a model housewife to be caught wearing something so sexy it bordered on slutty.
Oormila checked her Guess watch, "Damn! I'm late for the gynecologist!"
She did not follow her routine that day; she followed her instincts. She followed her sister.
Her snooping brought about a confrontation and a revelation.
From that day on, even though she kept her sister's dirty dark secret, she took comfort in knowing that from now on, Sharanya would never shoot her sneering comments. Oormila finally embraced her life and her imperfections for it did not involve parting her heart between the man she loved and her husband.
Sharanya's middle child was rightfully illegitimate.
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