Pla(tonic)

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Plato is a major influence in my life now. Especially in my non-natural relationships… in the only other relationship I have other than friends and relatives.

A platonic relationship with my man-friend (he is too much of a man to be called a boyfriend)… three years old and still going strong in spite of all those nay-sayers who told me it just wouldn’t last. People claim there really can't be a platonic relation between two members of the opposite genders over an extended period of time… especially if the two are very close. I’d say… look at us… we are really close, we have been true to the definition… Friends without benefit? ;) And the commitment we have to the relationship is as good as in the deepest, most romantic liaisons… it stops me from having a no strings attached fling or an emotional attachment to any other guy. 

Having lived his life… casual flings, heartfelt romances and all… he has come to a point where pure, unadulterated, intimate love without the physical intimacy and the heartache is like a balm to him.

Though, I have no experience of physical love, I have had enough heartache. First, a relationship gone sour because of the lack of physical proximity and intimacy and then this, a relation that works despite the lack of the same. 

I have had friends ask me if I don’t miss it in my life (the intimacy, not the heartache!)… the answer is yes, of course… but I don’t really know what I am missing without prior experience… so, it is like missing a trip to the moon, probable but not possible. And anyway I tell them… books help, as in all of my life’s other adventures… it’s a happening life I live through them.

Feeling Blessed!

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Years ago I met this girl in school... I was drifting in a world of my own, not really reaching out to others, more acquaintances than friends until she changed all that. She became that one solid anchor that kept me grounded. A friend, a confidante, a soul sister perhaps. The one girl I could talk to endlessly, about any damn thing... from The X Files to relationships. The one person I could share my insecurities and my triumphs with equal ease. The one person with whom even after ages of no contact the break in conversations feels like we'd just hung up to answer the door. In spite of the miles between us and the years since we last met, there is no one else I am as close to... we have transcended the cliches of reading each other like open books... or even telepathy.

And today is her birthday... I celebrated with a cupcake and a glass of wine.  ;)

Happy birthday, Urmila!
Love you lots! Miss you lots!

How Do I Move On?

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Life has a way of throwing you a curved one when you think everything is all set for an easy home-run. Deep inside I know I am grasping at straws to stay afloat. This is me letting off steam… not wanting to explode all over the place… and so today on this blog I vent in a controlled manner.

How do I move on… when I am in a relationship with the right guy at the wrong time? When my future with him is a blank with nothing to fill it with… When my present is a struggle I seem to be losing… a fight to be happy with moments of joy stolen from the time meant for priorities that do not and never will involve me. How do I move on when lost as I am in this sea, he is my pole star? He fills my sky. I see nothing between and beyond his brilliance. I swim towards him… and he retreats away from the horizon… forever unattainable. How do I move on when my heart is still warm from an endearment he uttered ages ago? When he first held my hand, it wasn’t a tingling feeling that coursed through me… no first blush of love… but a surge of power, of confidence to take on this world… and a sense of security that he’d stand by me forever. His kisses as rare as midsummer snow, they sent through me an electric pulse that melted my chains, disintegrated my inhibitions and made me look at the world through the eyes of a woman. How do I move on when I am still his girl, but not his woman? He brings out the best and the worst in me… but he brings me out. How do I move on now that I am unmasked?

I convince others that my life is perfect… and I ache within… I ache for him to whisper in my ear again the confirmation of the love with which he claimed my soul. How do I move on with so much hurt inside me? 

Yin to my yang, he and I, we make a perfect circle. How do I move on when no on else measures up to him? I have shed tears with him and been delighted when his face lit up with a smile. I have fumbled and hurt him and fought with him and then cried and made up. How do I move on now when my cheeks are still wet with tears?

Tell me… how do I move on when every fibre of my being refuses to let go? How do I move on when he would not move on?

These winds of winter... they are robbing me of my spring.

My Speech Impediment

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Image Courtesy Google Images

I recently started a form of self-prescribed and self-developed form of speech therapy. I do not have a speech impediment or disorder of any known sort… but, I do have a small issue with the way I talk to people. The issue has been bothering me for a long while, and I worry that at times someone might even take offense about it.

The issue is that I am an involuntary speech mimic. When I am talking to a person in English (it might be happening with my other languages too, but I haven’t noticed it), I tend to mirror their speech patterns and intonations and to an extent, even their accent. It is almost a reflex action and I am honestly embarrassed by it. For someone who has heard me speak in my normal manner (which I have been told is neutral English with the slightest of British emphasis on certain words), this sudden change in my speech pattern while talking with them could be offensive… it would appear to them that I am mocking their speech. I would like to assure them that it isn't the case… this synchronous behavior on my part is purely involuntary.

The other issue which hampers me is that the previous pattern of my speech continues until I am in conversation with someone with a different pattern of speech/accent. It takes me a few lines of conversation to synchronize with the new accent and intonation. So,  if I have been talking to someone with a heavy South Indian accent for a while, my English is tinged with the accent and when I start talking to someone with a very pronounced Punjabi accent, after the first few lines of conversation where I sound South Indian, I start sounding all Punjabi. I do not realize the switch being thrown in my brain… though I have now started to try and monitor my speech to catch it and try and rectify it…which is why the therapy.

It is a simple way I have devised to try and cure myself of this disorder… I talk to myself! I talk to my reflection and get rid of the last accent on my tongue and then I talk some more to get my normal speech back. It also seems to help my imagination (which, by the way, is out of control)… I weave conversations with my id and ego. Sometimes in my mind I switch to a person with a good hold over the language and someone whose speech and way of talking and whose mind I am well acquainted with and then I debate with my imaginary, real friend.  

I hope that I get rid of my problem soon. 

Weighing On My Mind

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I have a weighty issue... It's my weight. It has been almost an exponential progression in the last few years. In college when almost all my friends were underweight I was the perfect weight for my height... Not a kilo more. Yet, I was referred to jokingly as 'moti'. With a waist of 28" the playful jibes didn't matter to me... I knew I was tall enough to balance those 'extra' inches.

After college, happened a job in Gaming... In spite of it sounding exciting, it was actually a sedentary job that required endless hours in front of the PC with rarely a stretch of any muscles other than those in my fingers. Combined with a lack of exercise, my haphazard timings of meals played havoc with my body. Naturally, the waistline now measured 32"... That's a four inch increase in 2 years. 

My sedentary lifestyle continued with my later jobs. Food habits were equally bad... though there was no binging on unhealthy food. My body's metabolism rate took a beating and since then it refuses to breakdown what little quantity of food I eat. That quantity has often been described as 'chidiya ka khaana' (roughly translates to feeding portion of a sparrow)... But, it has not stopped my body from storing up all that as fat just in case it has to face a decade long famine.

Well, now I am on my 6th job that involves sitting on my bum all day and have completed roughly a decade of wheeling my office chair around a maximum of 180°... And NO... I am definitely not gonna tell you what my waist measures now! What really bothers me is that I have to lose over 30 kilos to be considered fit.

My fitness issue is complicated further by my tendency to spiral into depression for long periods of time... Sometimes spanning a year. These phases make me lethargic, more sluggish than I'd care to be. Add to that my general lazy demeanour and I have carved out for myself the perfect route to obesity. This becomes a vicious cycle... Every time I look in the mirror I find I hate what I see and that makes me sad. The only saving grace is, until now, depression hasn't caused me to over-eat... But, it makes me sleep. Sleep a lot. And then there are hormone problems... That's as tiresome as it gets!

Anyway, I have decided to take matters into my own hands... Be my own inspiration, my own motivator and crack the whip on my own bum! I may have found help coming from totally unexpected quarters... But, that's another story... for another day.

So today I charted a diet plan for myself, nothing fancy, no flash, no miracles expected... A simple light diet that avoids heavy carbs like rice and potatoes and yet satisfies hunger. Now, motivating myself to exercise... That is an uphill task indeed. I am trying to find interesting alternatives to the gym which frankly, I abhor. Maybe Zumba! I haven't figured out how yet but I know I have to sweat some of my weight off!

In the pursuit of that satisfying meal which is healthy and nutritious but does not insult my taste buds, I tried out something that came highly recommended by a health conscious friend (and by some magazines). It is this 'supergrain' quinoa. I tried it and it is easy to prepare and suits Indian cooking styles... So, I have replaced rice in my mostly South Indian menu with quinoa. I am liking it so far... But, the stuff is a little on the expensive side. 

I made my first quinoa dish yesterday... Quinoa Pulao. The recipe is same as any simple pulao where the rice is substituted by quinoa.

The Drive Home...

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Image Courtesy - Google Search

“You look lovely,” he said.

She smiled as she buckled her seat-belt… and whispered a thanks.

He started the car and drove silently for a few minutes… he looked at her as she sat relaxed looking straight ahead… the hint of a smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth.

“You know, in school, you were the most desired girl,” He said in a matter-of-fact way.

A sense of déjà vu washed over her… she turned to look at him, searching his eyes as she remembered another school friend telling her that she was one of the most desired girls in high-school but then he had also mentioned feeling sorry for her present. She did not want to think about it.

He hadn't noticed the question in her eyes… he was looking at the road and continued “You are smart and witty, you are intelligent… and you are pretty…”

She interrupted him, eyes narrowed “I am not pretty!” Though, she couldn't help but notice his use of the present tense.

He turned to look at her… his eyes appraising her… “You are hot!”

“Hot is not the same as pretty,” She muttered… a blush creeping up her face.

“No, hot is a package… you have an elegance and poise I haven’t seen in anyone else, and something about that reserved air around you, and the way you speak… it is mature and intelligent with a hint of innocence, makes people want to talk to you,” he smirked and added, “And don’t try to be modest… you know you are gorgeous.”

She smiled sweetly… she had heard it all before, the praise, the compliments… in college, at her first job… but they all seemed a long time ago.

He was still talking… “Your eyes…  they are ever as arresting as I remember… you know, I had a crush on you in high-school!”

She snorted… “I thought you hated me… we used to fight… remember? You even kicked me once… a painful karate kick!”

He grimaced at her words, “You weren't too bad… that punch” His fingers rubbed his jaw, remembering the pain.

She laughed a throaty laugh, “That was some punch… wasn't it? I think I was driven by the pain from your quite uncalled for kick below the belt.”

They stopped at a signal… she sensed his gaze, but kept her eyes on the signal. He said “I still think of you… I haven’t yet gotten over my crush on you!”

She turned to look at him, eyes wide with surprise… no… shock, she whispered, “But, you are married!”

He shrugged and started the car as the signal changed… “Well, you have an indelible effect!”

She was blushing at the revelation but managed to say, “Hope your wife isn't aware of your wayward thoughts.”

He felt a little uncomfortable and to change the topic he asked her, “ Didn't you have any boyfriends in college?”

She looked at him and said, “You were with me in college… what do you think?”

He clarified, “I meant, in your Engineering college?”

She smiled, “I had mostly boys as friends… didn't feel the need of a special boyfriend, besides, I did have a very close friend.”

“I remember… you rarely ever had any girls as friends… they all seemed intimidated by you.” He laughed.

“That’s not true. My best friend is a girl… you know her. And I have really good girl friends… friendships that have stood the test of time.” She said, almost petulant.

He looked thoughtful, “Your best friend? Yes, I know her… a wilful character, no-nonsense kind… quite like you, in fact!” He took a sharp breath and said, “You were always attracted to the strong types, weren't you? None of the wimpy ones for you.”

Her eyes on the road, she smiled, “The attraction is mostly mutual!” Then she turned to him and remembering something, added, “But that’s not completely true… I had other girls as friends… ‘wimpy’ ones as you call them.”

He frowned, remembering the girl. “That wasn't you being a friend… that was you protecting her! And that was one punch I enjoyed watching… he did not see that coming at all!” He laughed at the memory. “And well, he was smitten by you after that… can you blame him?”

She smirked, “Yeah…a lot good that punch did me! Did you know he would serenade me late evenings under my apartment with ‘jadoo teri nazar’ and ‘pehla nasha’? Mom did not know he was putting on the show for me though she liked how he played his guitar… and I never bothered to enlighten her. There were other girls of my age in the flats in our apartment entrance. And boy was I glad he didn't sing my name aloud… though he did sing well. I should have punched him harder, though!”

“He did sing for you onstage during the college festival… I remember, I was jealous.” He scowled and mouthed the words of the song in a mock parody, “Chehra hain ya chaand khila hain…”

She blushed again at the memories. It wasn't just him singing the song, some other senior had given her a mixed tape of Hindi movie songs praising her eyes.

“He was quite tenacious… wasn't he? I remember him hanging around at the college gate even after he passed out. My blood boiled at the sight of his smug face.” He said, sounding angry and irritated.

She laughed, “I never paid him any attention… and he stopped after a while; I think his father retired and they left the colony.”

“This is it… you have to turn left here… there’s my apartment,” she said.

He turned in to her driveway and stopped the car. She unclipped her seat belt and thanked him for the drive home, “You know… it was delightful meeting you after so long. Would you like to come up for a coffee?” She asked.

He closed his eyes contemplating. And images of another invitation for coffee flashed through her mind… a handsome Italian, a ride in a blue Lamborghini Gallardo, the innocent coffee invite and the rather horrifying outcome… it was a narrow escape for her. When she recovered from the unpleasant memory, he opened his eyes and said “Not today… besides it’s quite late and…” He left words unsaid… and closed his eyes again. She patted his hand as she stepped out of the car, but he held her hand and asked, “When would I see you next?”

She gently freed her hand and before closing the car door she replied, “Next time you come to India… I would like to meet your wife too.”

He smiled, “You haven’t changed a bit… have you? Always out of reach!”

She smiled back at him and waved as he backed the car out of her driveway. He blew her a kiss as he drove away… she did not reciprocate, but held the smile on her face.