Complexion - a dark tale

Two of the worst things you can be born as in this country are being born a girl and being born dark-skinned. I inadvertently committed the crime of being born as both. One of my parents was devastated when said parent was told I was a girl, while the other was in tears when said other saw my skin tone—not the blushing cherubic little flower the parent was promised. I choose to not disclose which parent felt which emotion—one said parent reads this blog regularly, and the other one seemingly gets regular updates from it.

That India is obsessed with fair skin is a widely known, almost accepted fact. While advertising for alcohol and cigarettes is illegal, and the manufacturers of Rooh Afza are suing the makers of Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani because their sentiments were hurt with some dialogue in the film, propagating fairness and suggesting that dark women have no confidence, cannot get ahead in their careers or will not get married, is perfectly acceptable and legal. Indians are known as brown-skinned all over the world and very fair skin is less common than dusky skin in the country, and yet, we all want to be fair.

I just read somewhere how even the words attached to each are so loaded with prejudice—fair (justice and equal) as opposed to dark (evil and twisty). I couldn’t agree more.

I grew up genuinely feeling bad about the skin colour I was born with—my mother and sister are both far fairer than I am. My mother, apparently, was as dark as I am, but once she moved to the US, the air and fruits of a foreign country turned her into the Cinderella version of fair. This was supposed to console me; that some day I, too, would be fair.

Relatives would always tell me, “Oh my God, why are you / have you become so dark?” Umm, you’ve seen me for years, when was the last time I was, err, fair? I still get it. Every time I go back home, some relative or neighbour will tell me how I’ve become darker. I’ve also been told how a photo of me with my very fair best friend looks like a black and white one.

My mother would return from weddings and give me a lowdown—what food was served, how the groom looked and most importantly, how pretty (or not) the bride was. And so very often I would get this: She was very pretty, rongta ektu chanpa (literally translated to her colour was a little covered / suppressed, ie. she was dark), but still, pretty. As if it’s a holy miracle that this girl with dark skin is pretty. How in God’s name did that happen? Must’ve been a fluke.

I don’t blame my mother. This is the country she grew up in, how progressive can she be? As I grew up, I developed and kind of, well, blossomed into my own, and started first accepting and then enjoying my ‘dusky’ skintone. People started complimenting me on my complexion, and first boys, and then men, started to get attracted to me largely because of the colour of my skin. I was initially surprised but once that faded, I revelled in it.

Today, I love my complexion. Often, I’ve tried to close my eyes and imagine what I’d look like fair, and frankly I cannot picture it. It just seems far too alien. My complexion, my hair and my eyes kinda grew on me, and everyone else.

Recently, I was on a weekend trip with my bunch, and the conversation veered to this very topic. My very opinionated friend seemed to take offence to the word ‘dusky’ as opposed to ‘dark’. She believes that by using dusky as a euphemism for dark, we’re further propagating this bias against the dark-skinned. Needless to say, she is not dark-skinned. While I wholeheartedly agree with her principle, I chose to sit this one out. Simply because she has not grown up with the kind of jibes and insults you have to hear when you’re of a certain colour. For those who have, and if they prefer to be dusky over dark, then so be it—whatever it takes to not hurt your feelings or pick at a raw wound. So I understand the preference of dusky over dark.

Frankly, I no longer give a shit about how my complexion is termed. That’s not to say that I didn’t grow up with a major complex, serious self-esteem issues (which, honestly, are not all gone), and just very hurt at the fact that my close ones thought me to be less beautiful than others because of something I was born with and that was completely out of my control. Which is also a reason I never use the word ugly, on principle. Or fat, for that matter, but these are for another post.

The entertainment industry the world-over today is flooded with ‘dusky’ women, and more are still sought out. I am dark, dusky, chanpa, whatever you’d like to call it—but yes, I don’t cringe when I look into a mirror, and that’s more than enough for my self-confidence.

Title-less

I’ve been meaning to write for a while now but have been at a loss for words. I know, that’s a first. ‘Lots’ has been going on and yet nothing. My mind is a mess and yet a blank slate.

I’m packing again. I’m packing up my entire life in Bombay in boxes and suitcases, just like I did three months ago and three months before that. It’s funny how your entire being comes down to just a few boxes and assets. Some you take with you and some you leave behind. Well, I suppose you leave behind far more.

I met a very special man last year who told me I’ll never settle in one place, and that I’ll probably be touring the whole world and be happy. I’m beginning to wonder—maybe he got this one wrong. Maybe he meant to say that I’ll never settle in one home; that the vagabond life, much as I hate it (since it’s within the same city) is the one for me; no choice there. Damn, that’s depressing.

Yes, I was in search of my happiness and for a while there, I found it. Rediscovered myself and all that. But once the rose-tinted glasses come off, you realise that the smile you’ve found is just temporary and perhaps just a way to put off dealing with real life, the way you’re whole life is about to change, as you know it. We all crave change and yet it’s scary to actually face it, isn’t it? When you, till a point in your life, were so convinced that it’s headed in a certain and then poof—in just a moment, it’s all gone.  

On top of all this, you have worry—not for yourself, because you know that no matter what, you’ll survive just about anything. Yes, it’s strength of sorts, but not out of strength of character so much as it is from lack of choice. Life doesn’t throw me lemons; it chucks melons at me.

But you’re worrying about those in your life, those close to you, or at least, those who were close to you at some point. What do you do when you can see someone you care about deeply heading down a dangerous path? You know it, the world can see it, hell, s/he knows it too—but will just not do anything about it. Paying heed to your worries is obviously not an option; you’d not be here if it was, to begin with. How do you tackle something that you can see slipping out of the person’s control, with helplessness setting in? Do you sit back and let that person destroy himself? Do you walk away because you can’t watch him doing so, well aware that he will, indeed, destroy himself? Or do you fight to save him, at the risk of your feelings, self-respect and perhaps any possibility of a relationship with the person, being destroyed along with him? These aren’t rhetorical questions; I’m genuinely throwing this out there, cos I’m helpless and clueless.

In the midst of all this, I think the universe is trying to send out a message. People have been dropping like flies—excuse the crudeness. This is odd, because people die everyday, but the nation and the world only cares when it’s someone famous, or even remotely famous. Did Jiah Khan make the right decision to end her life? Maybe not; but unless you’re in her shoes, maybe that comment should not be made. Committing suicide takes a whole load of guts (no, it’s not cowardly). Many of us have had the thought cross our minds as some point, but have subsequently chickened out. It’s only when life gets unbearable and that pain in your gut is so excruciating that you can’t breathe, that you take such an extreme step. I’m not condoning it nor am I condemning it. My only point in this would be—no matter how crappy your life is, there are still enough people who love you to bits; think about what would happen to them if you were suddenly gone.

I suddenly find myself a little dazed, a little confused and quite scared. I thought I was ready for something, but I find myself suddenly recoiling. I thought I was ready to take a certain step, but when I see it becoming even a little bit of a reality, I just want to find a rock and crawl under it. Damn, this rock has been mentioned too often—really is time to find it.

Hakuna Matata

The word ‘priorities’ has been thrown around a lot in my life lately—by me, to me, etc. So, it seems only natural that I write something about it. I’m not sure what it will be but I’m hoping that it comes to me as I type.

Lots and lots of stuff have been happening in my life, I won’t deny it. My friends (and I, too) get surprised at the number of updates I have for them every time I see them (which is sometimes every day). But I’m not getting into all of that now. The point is that the last month or so has taught me about the importance of priorities. Apparently it decides a lot about your life, what you should do, who you should keep, where you should go and generally where your life is headed. And I don’t just mean what your priorities are, but where you figure in other people’s priorities too.

It’s pretty simple, isn’t it? For most of us, our jobs and careers are our first priorities. And this doesn’t just mean how much money you’re earning, or how awesome your company is, but also how happy you are at your job. Job satisfaction usually is the priority, or at least should be, because if you ain’t happy at the place you spend ten hours a day, five to six days a week, you’re a lil screwed, buddy.

It’s after the job bit that the confusion and trouble starts. If you tell your girlfriend/boyfriend that your job is your first priority, they can’t really complain (or at least shouldn’t). The trouble is with the lack of honesty in figuring your priorities. You can’t tell someone that s/he is your first and foremost priority but in reality, treat him/her like the garbage you forget to throw out. Job first, friends second, family third, fun, games and alcohol, fourth… and buried under many more such priorities is you—at number 137. Nice. No thanks, I’ll take my priorities elsewhere, please.

Lately, a number of people have told me that I’m looking happier than ever before (or at least in a long time). I did not see that coming. Some people attribute it to a certain major (once again) change that’s happened in my life, which technically should leave me unhappy, but isn’t—if that makes sense. Others attribute it to my new job (I am inclined to go with this one). There are a couple of other guesses which I’d rather keep off the blog for now. But the long and short of it is that apparently, I am finally prioritising myself—first. What I want to do, how I want to do it, and who I want to do it with—this comes before anything and anyone else. Lucky for me and them, my family and friends are extensions of my being—so my happiness comes only from having them around me.  

I don’t know what it is, but I have been feeling lighter lately—working hard and partying just as hard. I’ve been waiting around for some people to make me a priority for so long, that I guess I finally snapped—and it just doesn’t matter anymore. Will it ever matter again? Your guess is as good as mine. Till then, I intend to use this apparent happiness on my face to the benefit of my skin—you know what they say, right, if you’re happy from inside, your skin glows and all that. Let’s see if it works. Oh, and I watched Lion King recently and Hakuna Matata is stuck in my head. I’ll take that as a good sign J

Means no worries… for the rest of our days…

Mission happiness, apparently.

I should not call myself a blogger. Shame on me. In my defence, I literally have no time, and weekends are not for laptops and typing. Weak defence, I know.

So here we are again. Relationships all around me are crumbling—and by crumbling, I’m being polite. Misery indeed does love company, karma seems to agree with that. Why is it so difficult to maintain a relationship, especially when two people *claim* to be in love? Clearly, you’re not in love enough. People say, we’re in love, but love isn’t enough. In fact, I say that all the time. Well the truth, I think, is not that love isn’t enough; it’s just that your love isn’t enough to make it work. Because, call me idealistic, but if you really love someone in the *unconditional-swept-off-your-feet-inconvenient-delirious* sort of way, then won’t you move heaven and hell to make it work? To be with that person till your last breath? I realise that I sound dramatic and filmy, but that’s the kind of love I’d like to believe in. Not that it happens, least of all to me.

I recently read a meme that said “Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love should not be one of them.” I could not agree more.

When you’re with someone, that someone should make you feel like you’re “the only girl (or guy) in the world” (courtesy, Rihanna)—that you’re beautiful, caring, passionate, fun and just the best thing that ever happened to that person. Unfortunately, much of our self-worth is dependent on the *certain someone* in our lives. Unfair and terrible I know, but true (deny it all you want). But the truth also is that if the person you’re with makes you feel any less, then perhaps this is not the person meant for you. Or perhaps you are not the person meant for him/her. And if the feelings you are feeling about yourself, being with this person, is negative or veering in that direction, walk away. Take that walk of reason and walk away—you’ll do both a favour and give yourself and your *certain someone* a chance at happiness with someone else. To feel good about yourself with someone who will make you feel like that.

When s/he looks at you, you should feel the connection, the tingle running through your body like electricity—no matter how long you’ve been together. If you’re in public and s/he touches you lightly, you should want to leave and rush home to tear each other’s clothes off. S/he should be the first and last person you want to see every day, and also the first person you want to talk to if anything major or not-so-major happens. Doesn’t sound that difficult, right? Wrong. Apparently, asking for love, intimacy, loyalty, compromise and other such things in a relationship is like asking someone to squeeze water out of a diamond ring. Random analogy.

And then there are the distractions—a sureshot sign that it’s time to move on. These distractions can be anything from your friends, some unhealthy substances or a new person. This is tricky, because whatever you do is, at the end of the long-ass day, your decision and your consequences. Good luck with that.

Unfortunately, the decision to pick up the pieces of your broken heart and move on with your life, possibly with someone new, is not an easy game. In the real world, especially when you’re an outsider fending for yourself, many other practical factors come into play. So do you concentrate on mending your broken heart, moving on, or fixing the logistics of your life? All of them together, it seems. Joy.

So here’s how I cope, or should cope, or plan to cope. I will do what makes me happy, comfortable and makes me smile. That may mean being with my friends till the point that they want to kick me out of their homes; eating lots of chocolate, red velvet cupcakes and chai, following it up with a strenuous hour at the gym (cos, you know, you’re back in the market and you gotta look good too, right? The parents are going to start asking you for your ‘nice’ photos, whatever that means); or flirting with that new person who sends shivers down to your… err… spine.

So often I’ve been told, “Happiness is intrinsic; unless you’re happy, you can’t make anyone else happy. That’s what I do, and so should you.” Point taken, me lord! Hunting now for the happiness within, no matter what and how that may be done. Awrighty then. Mission happiness is underway.

Two to everything

So I suppose I can finally share my awesomely good news. I have a pretty cool new job. I am happy and most are very proud of me, most being the operative word. People who read this blog and know me, know what this job is. I’ll probably talk more about it in subsequent posts, but for now—baby steps. All I can say though, is that this could well become my dream job.

Unfortunately, the euphoria of this great life event has been significantly dulled, as I mentioned in my previous post, due to the behaviour of certain others.

God has a twisted, strange and evil sense of humour, I’ve come to the conclusion. Long ago, he brought a man into my life and made me entirely and completely dependent on him, without letting me realise this. And then suddenly, right when I was at the cusp of making some life-shaping decisions, for which I definitely needed him, he took him away—literally, one fine morning.

He gave me a sister who I am extremely close to but made a life for her that is thousands of miles away, so that I get to see her only about one every five years. How nice.

Then, after many bumps and falls, he gave me the almost-perfect love story. For the longest time, no fights, no ego, no communication problems—only love, laughter and lots of fun. People would look at us and say we’re perfect for each other, the cutest couple they’ve ever seen, etc etc.

Now, I was prepared for the honeymoon period ending. Nothing is ever that good for too long. But come on! How can you go from being crazy in love and having eyes for only one another, to constantly bickering, ignoring each other, understanding and accepting the differences between each other and yet, steadfastly not doing anything about it, regularly humiliating one or the other, and thinking only of yourself? How?

A relationship, any relationship, but more so a romantic one, is co-dependent. No one is asking you to give up your own identity, or your own life for that matter—but there is a certain amount of cause-and-effect that happens, a dependency on each other, and most importantly, a need and desire to make each other your top priorities, that is, if you’re looking at a potential future together.

You need two to tango; to clap, you need two hands; to kiss, you need two pairs of lips; to fight, you need two lungs and two sets of ego; to work out an issue, you need two compromising souls; and to make a relationship successful, it takes two. Take away your partner and you’ll look like a fool on the tango dance-floor (if there is such a thing); take away one hand, and you’ll look really stupid holding up the other in anticipation of a clap; take away a pair of lips and all you have is a pout—doesn’t come close to a kiss… you get my drift.

Just one person cannot invest time, energy and love into a relationship. You can judge whether or not the person you’re with respects you by observing how s/he treats the people around you, and how s/he treats you around people. If your partner does not respect you, or the people in your life, or if you feel a lack of respect for him/her and those in his/her life, the relationship is unlikely to work.

The most ironic thing is that my certain someone sent me a mail recently about how falling in love is easy, but sustaining that love is that much harder—it’s not about whether you’re with the right person, but about learning to love the person you’re with, and no matter what, sticking it out and making it work. But both need to work at it.

The article also talks about how many search and find solace from the demanding relationship outside of it—most commonly by cheating, but sometimes also by turning to alcohol, friends, or anything that keeps you away from the better or bitter half (latter adjective courtesy of a friend). Do you really expect your problems to disappear by staying away from each other and piling on the nastiness? Or is this the easy escape route?

I find God even more bizarre for having made human relationships and emotions so bloody complicated. Do you think the animal kingdom is wrought with such issues? I mean, Olive Ridley turtles mate and then the male turtle swims away God-alone knows where, while the female turtle returns to the mating spot to nest (as usual, the man gets off easy. I know, at this point, some people are going to bring up the Sea Horse, but really, let’s look at the ratio, shall we, people?) The point is, I doubt either the male or female turtle gives a shit about the fact that they may never see each other again.

We’re still not sure about life outside Earth, but I’m confident, and hopeful, that these un-earthly beings are free from the kind of emotional baggage we humans carry.

It’s easy to lose each other, break the trust your partner has in you and take each other for granted, and it’s that much harder to maintain and work at a relationship to make you happy, in the long and short term. It’s up to you to decide what you’d rather do.

I know, this is another one of em bare-all posts for which I’ll receive both flak and encouragement. But like I’ve said before, I’m a writer, this is how I do it, this is my blog and I’ll do as I please. If you are a part of my life in any capacity, it’s likely that you will be written about. No offence intended, if you don’t like it, you’re welcome to stop clicking. For the others, share share and share some more, the crap you have to deal with in your twosomes as well.

Leap of faith or walk of reason?

Something amazing has happened. Like really amazing. I can’t tell you what it is yet, but shortly, very shortly. And this is an amazing thing that I’ve been waiting for, for a long time. And it’s happened, but I’m waiting for it to really actually truly happen before rejoicing. You know? No, how will you, what with me being this vague. Soonly, I promise.

The point is, despite this awesome thing happening to me, it was immediately, if not even before, negated, or rather annihilated, by something not-so-nice that happened (read: positively awful). Of course, right? How can life, even for a day, be perfectly good and in sync? Nah, too much to ask for.

I’ve got this sinking feeling. It’s one of those feelings that is sadness mixed with anxiety and some dread thrown in, stirred up with a trickle of joy. Bizarre. Will it or will it not? Should I or should I not? What I’m asking right now is, should I take a leap of faith or take a walk or reason?

The leap of faith means that despite knowing that the odds are stacked against me, I follow my heart and go with what I want. The walk of reason would mean that judging by the height of the odds piled up against tiny, l’il ol’ me, I do what I should do, and not necessarily what I want to do, and walk away. Of course, it’s never that easy, is it? Too much at stake, too much to lose.

If I take the leap of faith, no doubt I’ll *probably* be happier in the short term—probably being the operative word. I might even be happier in the long run, too. But will I always wonder... what if? Is it...? Should we have...? Can you truly be happy with these many questions looming in your mind for.the.rest.of.your.life?

If I take the walk of reason, for a very long short term, I will be miserable—tried and tested. But in the longer long run, does it make more sense, a better call of judgement? No easy answer is there?

And of course, while my mind and heart play this tug of war of decision, I am just confused. How do I behave? Do I pull back or give in? Love or let go?

During this entire internal turmoil that's searing through me, I did a weekend away with my family away from home—well at least some of them. One of my closest friends is leaving the city for a year to study and all that – bleh – so we decided to spend our last weekend together at a beach far away (more like in the back of beyond’s bum). But the further the better, and a blast was had (not the kind of blast I had on my birthday, but you know, metaphorically). This included tossing about a football (yea, apparently I can do that), playing taboo, and making the YMCA of our silhouettes against the setting sun. Maybe it didn’t quite turn out to be the YMCA, but ah well.

So often, when I’m with these guys, I wonder, what would I do without them? I mean, there are only so many people in the world in front of whom you can look like a mess and not give a shit, have no shame or any such thing with, and discuss absolutely anything, including detailed conversations on bowel movement. Apart from of course, knowing each other better than we know ourselves. I think everyone deserves to have friends like this—if you don’t, you have no clue the kind of madness you’re missing out on.  

One of the things we also spoke about is friends. How most of us have a different person to go to with different problems, but some of us have that one go-to person for just about everything, who will not judge and yet will be brutally honest with you (I do have one, and she does both, which is why I can’t do without her –she’s grinning ear-to-ear reading this, I’m sure). Over the years, those friends and your go-to people also change; they’re bound to—distance, growing up, jobs, partners and all come in the way. Does that mean you should no longer be friends with or close to the person who was once your go-to person? Certainly not. That person may have taken a different space in your life but if s/he mattered to you at some point, s/he will matter always.

I randomly think of people I called friends once upon a time. I think of her giggle while we slept over at her place, I think of his laughter at the bad jokes we cracked at the many house parties, I think of his hug at the end of a long day, I think of her tears when we were saying goodbye and the letter she wrote to me, calling me her sister, I think of the three-way phone calls with both of them late into the night. They all mattered so much back then and today, when we are no longer in each others’ lives, I still think of them—even though I may have been friends with them many, many years, almost a lifetime, ago.

I suppose you have to cut some people out to make way for the new—friends, lovers, relatives, etc. But it’s tough, and frankly, a little depressing. Sometimes, I wish, I could have em all back, just as always, and just keep adding more, till my life is exploding with love and laughter, and I still greedily ask for more.

I’m aware I’ve made little sense today, pardon me. But sometimes, you just gotta let it out. And guess what, I can—cos that’s what writers do. J

Happy birthday, Procrastinator!

So March 21 is my first blog’s first happy budday! Wow, a year passed by fast, and I’ve been a *fairly* regular blogger. I said fairly! But there are tons of things I learnt in this last year, via this blog and otherwise. Here are some. Oh! And my blog has crossed 5000 hits! I know that might be a piddly number for some other famous, cool, writer kind of bloggers, but for me, this is big! Back to the list. 

·         People actually read what I write. And even wait for my posts. :-o

·         I truly am a procrastinator. I procrastinate on everything. Sigh.

·         I throw some kickass parties.

·         No matter what, your girls are always there for you. A hearty laugh with them can cure many a heartache.

·         Change is the only constant in life. Relationships change, feelings change, equations change, you change. Not all change is bad. Sometimes, embracing change is good. It opens up new metaphorical doors and all that. Sometimes it’ll open up a new physical door too, like the one to a new apartment or a new job.

·         When a man starts chatting you up five minutes into meeting you, in person or via some sort of technological communication device, chances are that he’s trying to get into your pants. On learning that you are not interested / available, chances are that he will disappear. If he doesn’t, then he’s a good man and you should stay friends with him.

·         Even the tightest, most intimate friendships can develop cracks in them. These are the ones you have to fight for the most, try the hardest with, and will be the most awkward with.

·         Never take anyone in your life for granted—not your partner, friend or family. It’s important to keep making the people in your life feel special. It doesn’t cost anything.

·         Family is extremely important, no matter how dysfunctional yours may be. They will stand by you through it all. The moments you spend with them are priceless.

·         As important, if not more, is the family you choose outside your blood relations. They don’t have to, but they still do. That speaks volumes.

·         The one thing that binds people together, across religion, sex, cast, creed and other such stereotypical demographics is love, and generally, matters of the heart—relationships, break-ups, sex, etc.

·         Marriages and relationships will shatter all over the place, all the time. Do not judge your own relationship on the basis of that.

·         No matter how long ago you’ve lost a loved one, the pain never reduces, the wound never heals. You will still find yourself tearing up randomly on a regular basis.

·         There will be some people (read: friends) who will surprise you with their selfishness and insensitivity. Sometimes, it’s all about them or nothing at all.

·         There will also be a whole lot of people who will surprise you with their loyalty and love, over years and decades. Hold on to these people for dear life.

·         Love is not what they show in Hindi movies. Neither are break-ups or make-ups. There are no Hindi sad songs playing in the background. Everyone’s story is different and yet we all connect. Don’t expect the romance to be alive, day in, day out, year in, year out. But if, even after being together for two years or more, you can look at the person googly-eyed and wonder how you love this person so, consider yourself lucky.

·         Online shopping is evil. It’s so wonderful that it’s awful. Don’t succumb; it’s too late for me.

·         If reading is not one of your habits, you’re seriously losing out—books, online, anything. In the past year I’ve discovered that I can read anything—anything.

·         Having siblings is THE best. Nothing beats that bond.

·         A mother’s intuition is never wrong. Beware.

·       My father reads my blog, pretty regularly. My chats with him are always entertaining, in person or online. It’s a quirky relationship.

·         Being a woman in this country sucks. And it’s unlikely to ever get better. Excuse the pessimism.

·         No matter how forward and open-minded you are / want to be, you find yourself succumbing to peer / societal pressures. It just makes life easier sometimes.

·         I am not as ambitious, passionate or driven as I used to be. And that depresses the life out of me.

·         Whatsapp is awesome.

·         Holidays, weekend getaways, days off, are all underrated. Not that I’m getting or have gotten in the last year, much of any.
·    Life is never as awful or dramatic as it is in your head. Live a little; fun will become :) 

      So there. I’m pretty sure I’ve learnt a lot more, but my memory fails me with my age. Feel free to add more to the list! Waiting to learn some more nuggets. (Oh yea, chicken nuggets rock.)