Prose before hos

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.