wait and watch
Dawats are killing me. Heavily embroidered clothes are killing me. Tonnes of make up is killing me. It’s been 40 days since my wedding, I think it’s about time I give up the newly married status…please, people in my family; move on! We have.
Before we were married S and I used to talk a lot. He’d call me up and refuse to hang up until I begged him I needed to sleep. For some reason I hate putting down the phone on someone I care about, I keep waiting til I hear the click on the other end and then place the phone on its cradle. Probably subconscious symbolism. Anyway, I realised yesterday that we’ve stopped talking- just random pointless talking. It’s just work, some dawat, come home late, and sleep. To gain a husband I feel like I’ve lost a pretty good friend. Oh well, maybe he’s sleepwalking through the dawats phase like I am.
There are moments I want to make a clay statue- feel the cold mud-like substance in my hands and just stack and mould, cut and smoothen…just see how high my clay tower can grow before it hardens, cracks and falls as the sun rises. I’ve always sucked at sculpture, I wonder why I’m getting such cravings now. Maybe, after all these days of looking pretty and perfect I’d like to get my hands and clothes dirty. Such liberation.
You have not lived until you’ve had a true ‘surf excel hai na!’ moment.
I’ve seen the world ending so many times in the past days: In 9, Zombieland, and 2012; but in cinema, mankind still somehow survives…Well, in 9 these cute little gunny sacks do but you know what i mean. On film, the human spirit can conquer everything- plague, shifting of tectonic plates, a technological apocalypse, erratic cannibalism…maybe that’s why people actually go to see disaster movies: to regain some faith in humanity.
Heaven knows we, of all people, need some faith in humanity.
I’m a cynic; colder than the average reptile, lazier than the average panda. One of the few things people like me are good at is keeping our head when all about us people are losing theirs; we’re the smart alecks who stock up on helmets before the meteor shower. Living in constant cynicism teaches you how predictable people are; they’ll always disappoint you. And since you’re prepared to be disappointed, you never really are. Hence, happiness.
Buddha was one sick, smart bastard.
PS- This post is written to commemorate the ditching of the NRO. As if it would make a difference.