Many Thoughts And A Laugh

Still busy, VERY MUCH!!!

Things took a turn for the better... I remember beating myself up for being somewhere and in something I don't belong in... Finally God has smiled on me, my research has seen a new twist and I have never been so glad. I felt like life was breathed back into me. Finally seeing the light.

That being said, I have been thinking about giving up two things.

#1 Sex.
#2 Smoking.

Yes, I know, both shockers and both tested and failed...

Sex, well yes, we all enjoy it don't we. Especially after getting hooked on to Sex and The City I was more motivated to have sex. But then again, only when I was doing it did I realise, I have yet to grow past sex without emotions. I still have to be attached to a person emotionally to feel something in bed. If I don't sex becomes monotonous (even if effort was taken to 'sex'periment), labourious and even stressful... Smoking, owh well, I am that much closer, just that much. Just wish it wasn't so 'available'. Well, I agree, no excuses. No one should justify smoking. No one. I certainly don't plan to. This addiction has to stop (or so I keep telling myself).

As for turning into a celibate, well, come on!!! Everyone masturbates right? I ain't gonna be able to give that up until everything else in my life is at peace. It's just I am falling into that God-loving facade of myself yet again. HE never lets go of me. Awakenings after awakenings. Experiences in daily life are pointing me in HIS direction. I can't even enjoy sex knowing that lust tears you away from HIM. I feel HIM, like a long lost lover knocking on my door again saying 'I love you'... Even my love for dancing is all about HIM because Indian classical dance was born right out of the Vedas. I even feel HIM typing this out.

On a lighter note, I was back home for the weekends and boy the urge to write things down hadn't reared its head so much in a long time.

First of all a funny experience. The High Priestess and me got all dressed up for a wedding reception dinner of her friend's son. She wore a lovely saree which I gushed at when I saw it sitting pretty in her room. She even spurted on the new perfume Gdaran and I bought her as a Mothers' Day gift.

Soon we were on our way, tummies aching for a buffet spread, to find the supposed venue blanketed in darkness. She forgot to bring along the invitation and so had to call another friend of hers and ask for a clarification if we were or not, in fact, in the right place. Sure enough we were, because I do not recall a duplicate of the venue in a different location. So I called the High Priest for further clarification. Proved beyond doubt was the fact that we were in the absolute correct location. I pulled the final straw. Did we have the wrong date? The High Priestess crossed her fingers and hoped against all hope that she was right. But, alas, she was dumbfounded... We were there a week ahead. I hadn't laughed at her that much since the times Cookies and Cakes used to call her 'cute' (he still thinks she's adorable).

Another incident, a night earlier, we were at The High Priestess's brother's house to wish her nephew A Happy Birthday. Unfortunately enough, we walked in during a very bad time. My uncle was yelling away at his son because they were an hour late to go to temple and he had been waiting around for him like a fool. Things were further complicated when his wife questioned him, rather seriously, why he did so. In front of us. My grandmother (which you may remember from Granny Mayhem) couldn't keep her mouth shut and ended up doing what Cookies and Cakes calls 'fighting fire with fire' and what I call 'pouring petrol on fire'. And very obviously her daughter-in-law did not overlook that and very conveniently brought it up when questioning her husband (look up any Indian serial dramas which forever host the ever-unquenchable tales of the mother-in-law vs daughter-in-law arguments, disagreements, melodrama and oh so despicable but yet so true, living with the in-laws complications; like such, it was no exception in this particular household).

Later, (post the embarrassing slip-of-mind incident with the wedding reception date), the High Prietess and I took a drive to fetch Gdaran from work (an unusual scenario because Gdaran usually drives to work in his car which, unfortunately, is sitting in a workshop as I type; repercussions of another one of those alcohol sloshing sessions; thank God this time we didn't have to frequent the hospital). While waiting for Gdaran, mom and I talked. About the drama in her brother's place, about Gdaran and his ex, about Aunt #4, about health, about God, about the right choices in life, about me and my future family (which I promptly cut off and conveniently blamed it on my studies), about The High Priest. Then  I realised something. My mom is a changed person. She is no more pushing me over the edge, she has become accepting and she is matured now more than ever. I guess all that spirituality has brought about a positive change in her. And another fact that breaks my heart is that she is lonely and I have been, through many years (in the past decade), the one confidante she has come to regard as a just, non-judgmental, ever-understanding and ever-ready to point out her sometimes erroneous actions person. At that point I told myself, I love my parents, I will be there for them till their passing. I just wish I make enough money to allow them a comfortable passing into old age and spend them the money they might need to go on that long awaited trip to the Holy Lands ('might' because my dad's retirement sum can easily rake up a comfortable life for them without either Gdaran's or my assistance). Their only worry, which in turn would be my would be my concern, is me being alone for the rest of my life. But I am sure, when that one fine day comes during which they get acquainted with God, they'll know that I was never destined to walk down that path and understand exactly why...

HaHaHa!!!

With one foot after the other he carefully paced himself.
Twice to the left and once to the right, he swung his head in opposite directions.
Any sign of fleeting concentration and he would turn back.
Distraught, he would give in.
Tired, he would bow down.

With underarms shaved closely and nicely cleaned, he was determined to tie the silver ornament around his waist lower than intended, for when he lifted his arm it wouldn't fluster the eyes that see them and that silver ornament would actually complement.
The very least he could do?
The very best he could do?
Either way, he was there.

"That has to be a little higher up," like an avalanche his surreal world came crashing down and with no trace disappeared into oblivion.
"Umph, sure, how much more?" he looked around; no less than 12 others; sitting, standing, brushing, tying. The temperature hit him.
"At least some thing would hold up," no, he wasn't saying it.
"So why exactly are we wearing the red instead of the blue?" he knew it was a distraction; to take him off the edge. It wasn't only the floors that were giving him cold feet.
"I don't know, it's his idea. I hate the colour too," the shirtless chap pointed away, just his right arm, for one brief moment and continued fiddling.
"OK, we're up!!!" the 'pointed' yelled out and walked towards the 'pointer'.
"Go!" the 'pointer' scurried off at that cue.
"You can do this ok, you're ready, just remember that out there it's all about having fun."

All about fun wasn't as fun. It was voluntary, this whole scenario, but it wasn't up to par. It wasn't as exciting or as scarcely pleasurable as advertised. Badur knew the problem.

'Expectation leads to disappointment.'

The phrase was all too clichéd for him. He often shrugged it off with cringing and 'faux' nausea. Then it struck him. The idea. Clichés happen, or they wouldn't be named so for they do, again and again.

'I miss you.'
'Listen to your heart.'
'Money can't buy happiness.'
'You dance like Britney Spears.'

They flashed like a tacky multimedia presentation, right where he could see them, intangibly.
The trinkets on his feet were starting to annoy him.
They never had done this before.

'Mangalam bhagavaane Vishnu... mangalam madhushudhanam... mangalam kundarikaaksham, mangalam garudawhaja...'

It was picking up pace now. He would finally make his grand entrance. How can he still not be ecstatic about this?

The 12 others lead way. He entered. And with a thunderous applause he saw faces looking up.
He noticed the light hitting on.
He heard the notes playing wild.
He felt his eyes staring down.
Heart rate skyrocketed.
Stomach plunged.

He grit his teeth and like before....

...with one foot after the other he carefully paced himself... 

......twice to the left and once to the right...... 

.........he swung his head in opposite directions.........

............and continued............

Now it started sinking in.
The music.
The pain in his thighs.
The numb sole of his feet.
His painted face.
The blue colour on his saree.
His bangles the 'pointer' fiddled around with.
His invaluable dancing bells.
His belt yanked high enough.
His clean underarm when he reached to pick up the illusory flower for that surreal garland.

What an idiot he had been!
He was finally an odissi dancer!
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"GET UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's 5 pm. Time for makeup!" the face of the 'pointer' became faintly visible as Badur awoke from slumber.

PS: Bet you didn't see that coming didca'???

Dear, 'Whom It May Concern',

To those whom are reading this and know my identity, minus the people whom I have readily revealed myself to AND the people whose blogs I follow without disclosure of their identity or mine;

Dear 'Whom It May Concern',

If you are a friend or a family member or someone reading this knowing my true identity, it is with greatest of  hope that I wish you respect my discretion. This blog is for me to vent out my frustration and an outlet to deal with the elevated stress levels my life has presented me over the past year. I hope you are not one to judge and I certainly hope albeit my suspicions are to be true, the truth, either way, should remain ambiguous. I do not want to know who you are. I just want the amount of privacy being anonymous (to a certain level, the very least) presents me.

PS: This is a result of mere suspicion. Nothing dramatic has happened to spur this post.

*deep breath in, deep breath out*

I am busy... 

SO busy that I am starting my days early in the morning, like at 8 am!!! 

The last time I got up that early was in first year!!! 

Undergraduate!!! 

My MSc work is pushing my limits!!!

I don't have time to take a breath let alone a social life.

I am so afraid of losing my friends because I haven't met up with so many of them in the longest time...

The only thing keeping me going is Saturdays...

My dance classes...

The one thing I look forward to every other week...

Even typing this was monumental!

Did it with literally one eye shut...

No, it is not an understatement!

But I had to...

I need to vent frustration!!!

Waiting for MSc to finish!

Dear God help me!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lost... Completely...

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...

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!!!

Angry!

I am just ANGRY!!!

For everything that has happened!

I AM ANGRY!!!

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!!!

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!

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?