Prose before hos

The art of non-confrontation has reached the ADHD part of my brain; I'm fully in hyperactivity mode. Without revealing the timeline and exact order of business, I found myself attending a meeting on one laptop, sending a voice note, chrome window shopping, researching EDP with base notes of citrus and deflecting difficult conversations with the man of the hour. 

Do you generally ignore topics you dont want to discuss or is it something else?

I don't know, man. 

Do I generally find myself wondering if I should buy a Brazillian bum cream or an EDP I don't need in the middle of an economic crisis and no increase in my comp? Do I find an hour-long solidarity call overbearing cause I have to focus on one screen where I'm screen sharing and explaining workflow and ethos all at once? However, the lord knew I needed to give working across multiple screens a break, a work day that goes on longer than usual with loud noises in the background and a disgruntled dog who won't move. It's been mad real and I intend to stretch this hyperactivity for as long as I can. 

To be honest, I don't want to discuss the benefits of buying perfume over bum cream. I also don't want to write a long paragraph that says we will part ways, sooner than we need to. 

If I ever get a time machine, I would go back to 2014 and choose to restart the ugliest, most horribly lonesome points of my life differently. I think the wisdom of choosing better and not cooler has taken a decade but it's an outtake for life. Everyone who chose to be a fucking sellout and cringe a decade ago is thriving, while the rest of us are maxing the self-imposed credit card limit to buy lipsticks, perfumes and eye make up we don't need. 

Also, a notable addition to my hyper-activity is make-up. I've gone from thinking about it to acting on it to now actively considering a skincare routine. Deflection works on a passion level as well; if I can deflect about honing my existing hobbies by acquiring a new one, then welcome me to your eye-make-up club. I will apply the eye shadow all over my cheeks (ACCIDENTALLY) and wait three months to buy a setting spray. 

I did send the essay out, and did learn about celebrity holograms being a thing and that Happy is a great choice for teenage scent and that my friend at work likes the man I like but doesn't think his music is for Christmas. She did also ask me to start investing, ugh. 

I'm investing in my ADHD practices, babe. 

One of the few constants since the pandemic began, or rather pre-pandemic has been around the weather. For all the chatter in the world around climate change and how we can witness the effects trickling into our day-to-day, I raise you my familiar winter cycle, that's neither a day late nor early. 

Period-0, Weather in Delhi-1.

Winter officially sets in Delhi (for me) from November 14, when the fan on the top speed feels chilly but no fan feels stuffy. You don't need the air conditioner for the workout (even though you feel like death in the last 1 minute of your jumping jacks in the intense training program) and you no longer want to prance around in cotton shorts. You start window shopping for faux leather bombers and wonder if this will be the year when you invest in a Shacket (if I ever do, please feel free to ban my blog and never come back, I need a reality check). 

Winter also runs out fairly quickly (something under 100-105 days) by February 18. You feel the need to retire the tight sweaters and stuffy body-hugging polos. While the rest of the country takes another month, I am usually done by February 16 and bring back the air conditioning from Feb 24 for workouts. 

Three years ago, we marked Winter with the new season of the Crown at a public parking lot where I spent more time than I'd like to admit. Earlier today, when the winter breeze slapped my face in the same spot, I felt deja vu, like I was about to go through the same cycle again. However, there's one notable difference. 

I'm a lot calmer. 

It's like, the person I imagine consoling my younger self to be better and strive to be, I'm there. I spend all my waking hours walking towards my goals, tending to make life fulfilling and in pursuit of that, I find even writing tedious. This is probably the longest writing break I've had when I'm productive otherwise. I spend my time reading, watching and occasionally flirting with the man of the season (I've found a marvelous heartbreak for Fall-Winter '23). I catch up on things low-key, retire to my cocoon and find everything I need there. For the most part, peace lies in the predictability of movement. I've got my back; I've warded every single element out which I felt wouldn't align with my expectations and I've constantly tried to face my fears while doing that. I found myself in a familiar place where entering the apartment complex choked me but not without support. There were dogs, friends and friends like family to handhold me through moments I never thought I'd survive or live to try. 

I'm getting distracted by texts midway (and I'd never tolerate this shit, but it's Winter and we all need someone to hold on to and cuddle with), but everything about the days to follow will be predictable. Days will get shorter, my calm self will get pissed and by January, I'll be so unhinged that I'll intersperse crying with saying yes to all possible events and styling my hair in more ways than I can probably count, that is if situations remain predictable. 

The way in which our world moves and lives are shaped is not inherently controlled by us. The apolitical bunch on dating apps wouldn't know but for those of us who do, we are one inflammatory remark or action away from a full-blown crisis at all given times and 100+ days are a lot to challenge for predictability if the world is unkind to infants on the basis of their geographical location and passport details. 

What I'm saying is, I'm not looking forward to the Winter and I definitely don't want to write. I want to hide in my bedroom with my book and park myself to only respond to 5 people (including my employer because we all need capital). 

Shut the fuck up. 

A puppy died every time someone uttered the following to/around me in the past month (which has been quite a few times now): 

• The top of the funnel has increased
• Automation is a must
• Get it done by AI
• You're gorgeous
• Why do you think we're not compatible? 
• XXX is a very complicated tool
• Let's meet on Sunday
• Are you sure you don't want to meet?
• Let's meet on Wednesday
• Let's meet on Friday
• Let's go to a bar
• If you keep talking like this, I'll wife you up
• You need to get new socks/shoes if you're bleeding after a workout
• Have you understood the platform architecture? 
• Hawa badal rahi hai
• Don't take so much on
• Don't work till 8 pm
• I'm looking for a long-term relationship

It wasn't just that. He was cute. I mean, he was gorgeous. Really dapper. Deep eyes, pixie hair, solid nose, a jawline, the works. He was all that and real talented. If I speak more, I'll give it away so we'll have to contain within these generic, unhelpful filters. 

A year into knowing about him, I ran into him at an event; nothing big. I recall asking him for a picture and I'm pretty sure he didn't think it much of a deal. That shot is still up on my Facebook to this day (good luck trying to find it). I think it was that rare moment when I felt confident enough to do that. The next time I'd do something like that would be 9 years later on my birthday eve with a boy, I was madly in love with. 

A few years later, I heard about him, from a completely different source. If I speak more, I'll give this away but let's just say, we were in the same circle and destined to be friends, one way or another. I didn't think much about it and let the feeling stay. This is almost a decade since we got that shot and to be honest, I'd been with a bunch of writers and wankers alike so he had lost his 19-year-old talented lad sheen. I was between a soul-sucking heartbreak and a dramatic rebound situation so I was unfazed when I realised our paths crossed again.

Much as I avoided the subject of the man, our paths crossed in a way that we finally spent some one-on-one time, a few years later, after the initiation of being introduced to one another formally. He was nicer than I thought him to be; warm, kind, and gentle even though I didn't anticipate any of those qualities with him (I was 19 and wrote him as a bad boy, without knowing a thing about him). We bonded over things that I didn't think in my wildest dreams would happen. 

I shouldn't be surprised because this is not the first time things have touched my life and returned in full swing, in my face. This particular situation is a repeated, regular pattern in my life. I'll come across someone briefly and make an assumption. We'll move on with our lives and boom, one day they're in my life, full-fledged and I realise they are nothing like I made them up in my head. This happens every fucking year, with someone or the other. This has happened with men I've dated seriously, casually, in passing, friends of men I've seen and so on. This even happens at a platonic level. Case in point, my friend at work. Someone I met for the first time on my first day in office. I saw her clear her desk, say bye to everyone and leave just before she started her maternity leave (she would deliver her kid on the weekend and I was in on a Thursday, we were in the same space for a good 15 minutes and no acknowledgment besides a hi). For 8 odd months, I thought she was a really senior resource on her way to taking some time off. When we met, at an office party for the first time, I reminded her how I saw her on my first day in, which was her last day out. She and I have been friends since, something my last year self could imagine because could I ever be friends with someone who looked so cool and confident while being full-term pregnant? Never. 

I digress, but this erstwhile gorgeous guy and I had a brief run-in with our personal lives. Without getting into details, as adult life runs, we are no longer in the same radius, even by association. Though I've been repeatedly in his orbit, over and over again, we don't have any cold starts in us. I can't even say this is providence because this goddamn city is small and practically everyone knows everyone and somehow everyone knows this gent. Yet, I find it odd, how every 6-9 months, he crosses my path either via personal or professional connection and I sit and wonder about what my 19-year-old self would think. 

If you think Football boys are annoying (I'm sorry Taylor) try Football kids. If there weren't enough reasons to not have them, getting kicked by their serves at the track twice every week makes for a solid reason to add to my theory- football boys are the worst and kids are truly the worst. 

McDonald's in India hasn't McDonal'd in a while. The food lately has been insipid and the one decent thing that they do (Pizza McPuff), they've plastered Kartik Aaryan's face on the packaging. I don't know which marketing genius ensured that McDonald's started giving out books in lieu of toys and put KA on the cover of what is pao bhaji puff pastry but please, for the love of the lord, bring old McDonald's back. I'm one step away from denouncing my favourite brand in the world. 

Speaking of denouncing, I'm pleased to announce Diet Coke is on its way out of my life. Not because it's cancerous but because it hasn't hit me in a while, the way it used to (before you say, "Maybe it's you," it's not me; I had Lays Magic Masala yesterday to test the theory and I finished a family sized pack after lunch and dessert in one go and it banged as per usual). 

Two litres of water in a day isn't enough, and two slices of pizza are lethal for dinner. I was gasping for breath (gluttony is a sin) after fresh burrata and pesto pizza last night. 

I have fallen out of affection and fondness for four guys this month but got my eyes on three guys this month so it's been net zero, so to say. Feral during ovulation continues. If you are looking to point the incorrect formula then just know this is Girl Math. 

My favourite character at the local park is a little girl who makes sand castles out of mud, a beautiful white indie who follows me every time we cross each other till it gets distracted, and a geriatric who makes me wish I had half his energy and strength. 

Do you know people who are obsessed with Obama? It was a whole moment in pop culture, right next to the owl necklaces and purple-coloured mood boards. I feel that the whole crowd died down faster than I could spell 'orange' but hey, it made an everlasting impact on my memory. When I think of folks who like(d) Obama, I think of 2016 when I first met someone who was low-key into him. Cute. 

Turns out, the doctor's prescription of 'take a trip to the tropics' was more than just pep talk. It was fucking fantastic, running the hell out of the country and escaping to the beach. I also learned new things about myself, including how I'm willing to forego everything and everyone while chasing an azure sunset and watching Arab-German men play Hip-Hop and smoke weed. I couldn't have written this trip better and I realised that I've truly grown leaps and bounds in a decade, and then in the last five years was worth every overpriced rupee to baht conversion I did. 

Thailand has offered me a new lease of life. I am the world's sleepiest and the most active person all at once. My hormones are alive and kicking (if I tell you the details I'd have to kill you) and more than anything, it was a homage to all the old chapters in my life. From visiting Commons on my birthday eve for desserts to the jazz bar, everything happened this time. Again, I'm trying my best to skirt around the facts without giving details because the devil resides there. We don't want to disturb the dead. 

Thailand was also simultaneously aggressive; I can't hold them responsible either. Drunk Indian tourists misbehaving with the extended support staff was just the tip of the iceberg. The only time I've been made uncomfortable in years of travelling, including this year has been in the company of Indian male tourists who surround you after realising you're a woman without a man around you. God help you if you've displayed your legs or chest. However, fat tax is something that could be looked into. If you think you're good-looking or hot, go to Thailand and the people there will humble you. It happened to me, that while the folks here couldn't get over how I was glowing and looking fab, the disdain that the locals had was something else.

I also travelled internationally for the first time post-pandemic and it's a new world order, hey. Everything is way more expensive than ever and even if you have grown in your career and spending capacity, the same doesn't correspond with inflation. The only difference that couldn't be measured up in capital invested in the trip is my personal growth and learnings. I went in a different person and came back a wholly different individual. No amount of money can make it happen, but just experience. Thankfully, Thailand always delivers. You either come back jaded as hell or a completely new being. I'm glad to be on the other side. 

This is probably also the first time in over 30 years that I didn't really care much for my birthday. It was super chill. My companion in crime (who organised Thailand's end of places to eat, see and do), and family did their best to raise my spirits and raise they did. I had a fantastic Taiwanese meal and went to a killer speakeasy before stopping for the world's best ice cream and churros. We basically peaked that night and most of it was planned last minute. Even the part of it when I returned to India and whatever I did was last minute. Everything was light and the vibes were immaculate. I was surrounded by the people I love the most. The day was a potent reminder to know how many lives have you impacted and touched over the course of the year and life and then take stock of things for the time to come. 

Another life lesson to pick is that risks can be good, especially when you're going in blind. Half of this month went into doing everything I never thought I'd do or could do and yet, here I am. I pushed my body to move and I'm grateful to know it's capable of doing that. I ate clean and listened to my body, instead of approaching food with a scarcity mindset or doing a whole 'this is the last time'. Even if it is the last time, it's okay. I'll die on a hill that pre-pandemic food is better than post-pandemic food and that birthdays are best brought in with people you love than people you don't know at airports (especially if you're taking a 7:35 am flight). 

I've resumed walking and it feels fantastic. I mean, I'm not able to do a lot and especially all at once but knowing that I can still do it, is all the inspiration I needed for the year. If I could do it once, I could do it again and that better be my whole 32 experience. 

...but help me pack my luggage before we go go. 

Can you be partly in inertia and partly panicking? If so, I'm there; I can feel my heart pacing but I'm also sitting legs up and writing this like I'm about to spend a week-long holiday out of my bed. It's a holiday alright, but it won't be anything like spending a week in bed. Although there's nothing wrong about being in bed. Sinner succinctly explained, "Just think of this as you escaping the bed," which is true if you know me on holiday. 

I could be researching on my Excel sheet of places to go to and eat at and shop from and where to meet local cuties but I'm passively rolling through this. Yesterday, when I booked the flight, an entire table full of women cheered on and a few stepped up to tell others, "She's getting engaged!" and "She's going for her bachelorette" which was cute until it was followed by a round of applause from the entire office and then it became fucking hilarious. Adults need a small line to be psyched for others; for some of us, food is the reason, and for others it's milestones. 

Whenever I look back at the crossroads where I made a different choice than those who were on that journey with me, it makes me feel nauseated. Kinda like right now, I can smell chicken broth and mince on my top, which I wore to get a few passport-sized images shot and then stopped for a quick snack before I get the fuck out for long. Lots of things make complete sense about why I feel the distance doesn't make the heart feel fonder but again, I find it hard to relate to even myself from 4-5 years ago. I recall just booking the tickets for my second international trip in two months when I was making peanuts and today when I actually should be able to afford a reckless activity like that, I go from tab to tab in figuring, "Must I?"

I truly don't know if what I've done is right or not, which is to say, planning to bounce and fuck off to take time off from everything that's been up professionally and then some personally. Care can mean a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, it might mean keeping myself safe, whether it means being reckless or being too safe. For my doctor, it might mean telling me to change my scenery so I can ensure I'm not depressed beyond permissible limits (aka not pull a Sylvia Plath, which I don't intend on). Care can also reflect in the gestures of a man, whom I first met a year ago, and realised he was looking out for me when he prevented me from a possible road accident earlier last month over a long walk. Care could mean your friends actually celebrating the fact that you're going out and leaving a lot of shit behind and it can sort itself out when you're back. 

Whatever it be, I hope it ends with me 35,000 feet high up in the sky as a way of celebrating my 32nd birthday.