the inevitable

So I write about living with brother today. I always wonder how strikingly different we are. After living at home for 17 years, I started living in a hostel. With new people, new surroundings, family did keep me grounded. But I grew apart, in a detached way. Further life moves helped me make my mental armor stronger in those detached ways. There was a time when I and brother lived in the same city but were comfortable living apart. By choice. It was a great choice. Because the kind of people we were becoming away from family we would have just gotten on each others nerves. (not that we do not do that now, but we are way mature in terms of giving space and time. phew!)

So now I have been living with brother for the past 2 years. Again it is out of comfort and ease for a lot of other reasons. It is like growing up all over again. There are board games lying around, music playing in the house (sometimes his choice and nowadays mine), sharing turns in the kitchen cooking or cleaning, watching tv and movies together, making plans for weekends, for life, for home, for parents. There is bickering over electricity being wasted, lights being kept on, how I make the most boring (bland, angrez subjis) veggies, his inattention to cleaning the kitchen counter etc etc. At times there is telling stories about work, awesome people, relatives, cribbing about 'how some people suck' and 'should be banned from life for some time' and all such emotionally intimate stuff. There is even talking about poop and fart at home openly.

I remember talking to Someplace Else last year. We were talking about love. In the excitement of the wonderful conversation that was on I blurted 'I think romantic love is overrated' (I meant candle lights, balloons, roses and the sorts). She very patiently said 
'I think it's the only thing that's real though. If it weren't for some baseline love, I would not talk to my sister for instance. I feel the presence of something that makes me go to her. Even many times that to me is a real feeling.'

I am just agreeing.

fear

married friend - I have haldi-kunku at my home on Monday.
I (taking the cue) - oh! so I have to come ?
married friend (teasing) - you know its only for married girls.
I (dramatic tone) - oh! what double standards!

confession 1 - I try VERY hard to understand and empathize with the worries, troubles, tensions of my married friends lives. And I understand sometimes I can never get there to 'really' relate to or understand things. Because well 'I am not married'.

confession 2 - On extremely low days, I know and am jealous of the day to day companionship and joy (and all other emotions) they share with someone else.

confession 3 - May be for some people 'it' may never happen or happen very late. It is an equally REAL fear.

Note to self - May be no one belongs anywhere. We are all just trying. May be.

new first ?

A first is a first. After migrating to old new territory I was just happy being happy. You know how small kids obsess over a new shiny clean slate ? No ? That's what I was doing. I would go to the page look at it longingly and smile and close the tab. I even tried writing about 'Moonrise Kingdom' 'a film so fragile that merely describing it may ruin it'. And after 2 weeks in drafts decided against it. 

So this is what it has come to. Yesterday I missed going out for a run, thinking I felt like writing. I did but the words were not coming. Today I deliberately did not go for the run because a girl needs to work. So I started writing. You see how things flow for me? No? It's ok yaar.

Life is all about creating one (I guess) after you have been given one. Too cryptic may be.
So last week visiting home, we compelled aai to get rid of her age old relic 'the iron almirah', known as the 'godrej almari' in most Indian households. Well it was just an eye sore with the shiny wardrobe in the same space. The idea was to move it out, use it for the sundry winter items. 'Push' 'Pull' and we moved it out all right. But the balcony was not just ready to let it stay there. So decision was taken that it be donated to the building gym facilities. Later it was decided to move it to another flat where a teacher is planning to take classes. But after talking to the maid who showed interest in the iron giant, it was decided to give it to her.

In all this we totally ignored aai's feelings. Well it was her first 'private space' in a joint family post marriage. She tells it was made after giving deliberate measurements, making sure the then house's geography wouldn't be disturbed. From mere clothes to us growing up, the almari spans decades in our lives. She is attached to it the way I am attached to my blog. I miss my old blog. I miss my old posts. Of course I can read them anytime.

And this is why I am going to ask aai to keep it. (well if the maid does not insist).
This is how one accepts being like one's mother.
Overtly sentimental and attached.
Of course we can detach ourselves. But reason we must.