Prose before hos: birthday

Calibrating Stars

At the cusp of 33, I've achieved so much and so little this year that it feels like there's been no movement when the rocket has actually run out of fuel. Agreed, most of this has not been towards tangible results but the lessons will go a long way, especially, the ones charted in holding myself together through really tough times.

One of my biggest regrets this year is that I've been nicer than I wanted to; out of obligation and mostly to hold on to things that I know were bad for me to deal with. I should have said a lot more fuck you-s and walked out of things and situations that were clearly meant to exploit me and yet, I stayed till I realised I'm not terrified of those. Things I would have ordinarily quit or run away from, I embraced wholeheartedly and let my hands get dirty. Perhaps, it was to ask myself, are you really running away from it without trying or are you scared of failing again. That one belief to not give up, cost me a lot

I wish I had been more of my 20s self, but that version made her mistakes and it's time to make fresh ones. Maybe, in my 40s, I'd regret not telling enough people fuck off and hate myself for holding on to hope but today, it felt like the right thing to do. In no way is this over, but I know that I'm exhausting myself with all my repeated efforts and attempts to turn situations around where I'm not dealt with the cards fairly or even at a level playing field. This includes professional and personal boundaries being eroded and trying my best to carry on day after day.

Earlier this year, I was suggested an astrologer. I suppose when you're a woman in your 30s who is without a partner, a child and a promotion, that's the most conducive socially acceptable idea to pass. I spoke to her over an email, broken WhatsApp text messages and two calls. At the end of a two-week cycle of trying to communicate with her, she opened up, "I've never seen stars like yours. You get nothing in life and whatever you do, it evades you. But, keep trying and don't give up."

For the first time, in a long time, I felt sorry for myself. I'd suffered major career setbacks, personal losses and a crack of support system in 2020 and I don't think I'd felt that miserable, as I did when I heard her explanation of what had been happening to me. According to her, this is the "golden period" where everything is fine and it's good. According to her, this is as good as it gets. Among other ominous details, she talked about being childless; but in a way that I try for it and that doesn't work. "A lot depends on your partner's stars and whether he has kids in his chart. You don't."

I didn't need to pay thousand bucks to be told what I know about myself but hey, this could have been a dissatisfying meal and it wasn't.

The few friends I shared this information with lost their shit at me, or asked me for her contact details. I think that's also what happens when your friends are having a bad time and don't have any reasonable explanations for the same, while the others put together their lives. I'm not saying either is wrong; just whatever shoe fits you, there will be no questions besides ownership of the said set of footwear.

When my mother found out, she was livid. She tried to recount multiple instances of how astrology and astrologers are farcical and proceeded to bring up the convenient example of the last instance when I'd attempted something as silly around a difficult moment in a relationship. A woman I spoke to when I was in shambles, about the guy I was seeing, had suggested that I was gonna end up with him. He broke up with me the same week and it was followed by a dating drought in my life. We've not come close to meeting anything I've remotely had serious life/future chats with but also, there has been nothing else either.

The stars may have lots but apparently, they are unfolding the same goddamn things. I was approached by a man from many moons ago for a plan we made when we were young and I believed in him. Out of nowhere, bam, he tells me he'll be in the same city/country as me and how we should meet. It's the same godfucking guy, doing the same godfucking thing and turning the situation in the exact same way as he did in 2017, 2018 and left me in a place that was so dark that I'm where I am. On top of everything that audacity to say, "I hope it works out for you" when I brought up what's been going on with me and that I don't need his help/sympathy.

I'm told men respect men so talking about a partner may have helped ease the unnecessary drama but the response from folks in my life has been sickening, "you should have blocked him" is an equivalent to "you should have not been out in the night". Can't men behave themselves? Why can't I just be without having to block someone who doesn't touch my life in anyway and that the blame comes on me? I don't think stars have any answers for why men are the way they are but not one man is good enough or trustworthy to my existence here.

I wish astrology had quick fixes on how to cure life. While stock market and stars behave the same way, I think the government having some control on stocks helps men more than women who believe in tides turning over when stars move. I'm begging them to turn in my favour and shine on me, just fucking once.

0Comments

, by Snobster

In anger, birthday

It's not that serious

I used to pray at the alter of success, but now I settle for used wet-tissues discarded by others like me. The ones who made it. I'm happy for them, I really am. If the girl who started this page at 15 met herself in the present day, she'd be aghast at the person she's become but we all settle. I had to settle as well.

I have cribbed, cried, thrown tantrums, fought with the universe, made up, tried to make up and repair this broken relationship I have with fate, and then become hopeless. Sometimes I wonder if this resilience came to me with the second lease of life. Fighting for your life can be a lesson for a life, I suppose that's a success metric nobody can take from me. Covid - 0, Me - 1.

It's my friend's birthday today. I remembered it every day for the past fortnight except it slipped from my mind last evening. I was busy drafting an important text, that took over 12 hours and multiple iterations. I think the last time I made so many edits to a text, it was my last freelance assignment many moons ago. She had to remind me to wish her. Then I spent the next two hours catching up on a call with her, followed up with my sister, and spent the next 30 trying to get Zomato to give me a refund for fucking her birthday gift up.

For someone who spends over 50 hours weekly working on improving an app and its functionality and gets 0 credit for it, you'd think I would know my way around troubleshooting other apps. The thing is, I fucking hate dealing with dolts and only dolts thrive in this space. Or seemingly, find themselves in important positions. Pick any corporate leader working in the new media space and I'll show you what I mean.

I spent almost over 30 hours being pissed mad at the boy. My friend at work understood, "I had to schedule my anger around ovulation so I could be rational about it and not let my emotions get the better of me," she understood on her way back from work. Being a woman isn't easy but scheduling anger outbursts to coordinate with your sister's move and the nerves and taking it out on the semblance of a partially available but reticent support system is a stunt only firstborn daughters can undertake. If I tell you what led to the outburst you'd laugh, or well, be concerned for how little it took for me to lose my mind. But again, I don't fret about the big things.

I could fret the lack of response from both our ends on where we stand in each other's lives, or that we're going with the flow for a disturbingly long time as penpals but I don't sweat these things. I only sweat shit like dick-measuring comparisons, where I know the other person means no harm but how dare you cross that boundary and how dare you question your place in my life? I would go to war for you but I wouldn't let you make a joke at my expense where you compare yourself to my ex because are we even dating for you to do that comparison?

He should consider himself lucky that he's cute. It's the era of KillaTrav himbos and mine fits snug like a rug in that template.

0Comments

, by Snobster

In Bang Cock, Bangkok

Xiaolongbao

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.

0Comments

, by Snobster

In birthday, happy birthday bitch

A trip to the moon

...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.

Truth be told, I would be shitting bricks if this were any of the two listed above—which is funny cause even when it's not, I'm still shitting bricks. It's been five years since I visited my favourite country in the world and as I make my way back there this week, everything about my youth reflects. I had no fucks or fear, I could just pack a bag and move. Today, I look back at that shitless version fondly and romanticize. Is it because I'm wiser or is it because I'm out of dopamine? I don't know. A closest friend said I'm too wise and way too much in control which is why it's hitting like this. For me, it also feels like a rebirth and redux of it all.

An hour ago, I found myself catching up on the life of an erstwhile friend. We've grown up and grown out of the love we had for each other and naturally, I expected the course of our life to be similar, if not the same. However, seeing them flourish in a different light was heartening but at the same time made me question what have I done since. Do I celebrate staying alive in survival mode with all the shitstorms I dealt with (which I know, I rightly should), or do I lament the life I could have had if everything went according to my plans.

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.

0Comments

, by Snobster

In birthday, bucket list

Six planets in retrograde

Earlier this year, someone who's into Astrology (and I mean, like, professionally into Astrology) remarked on how this is a rather strange year for planet placements. I didn't make much of it because it didn't sound ominous and that's a fatal flaw I have. I tend to overlook things until they become dark and heavy to the point that I spend the next 365 days remembering every clue and sign I overlooked. People keep telling me that I overthink and I keep thinking that it couldn't be farther from the truth. I've switched to underthinking, it's a blessing.

A true marker of underthinking is living through hell and knowing you're walking towards the path of no return. Probably because my brain is broken due to severe traumatic events that transpired between 2019-2022 that I now resort to shutting the hell down beyond permissible stress levels. If I was already maxed out in the past few months, I am now in a state of blissfully checked out of my own body and life. If I could tell you, without killing you, the details behind the scenes, you'd be amazed. My biggest point of concern currently is that I ate a greasy Italian meal when I'm kickboxing in the am. Basically, this is dissociation and I'm a fucking master at it. I sign out when my life gets a little too much for me and focus on whatever requires my immediate effort.

Earlier today my medicine doctor asked me casually if I'm okay. It took two words for wounds to show up in the form of tears and actual sniffles when all we could have done was settle for "it's stress". She did say tho, I'm overthinking and that everyone in the country in my generation is doing the same so that was helpful to know I'm not alone. Just people I haven't met or known are dealing with the same. Cool, cool, cool, cool. cool.

I knew about a month ago my whole life was about to change again when I was writing affirmations on what I'm grateful for. Somehow, at the back of my head, I knew it was too good to be true. I listed areas of my life that looked wholly clean and sorted and knew this is not going to last. Of course, the six planetary alignments came and wrecked.

Truth be told, the planets are just softening the blow and really, this deserves the drama and pomp and show. I was perplexed about two months ago when some stuff went awry in my personal life that this is uncharacteristic timing for shit to go bad but here I am now. In hindsight, that was a cakewalk. Or in the words of my doctor, you need to forgive and move on. She should consider being a therapist over the specialisation she has in medicine because god she's good at what she said as a pep talk to my crying over narrating my last experience with a gynecologist. "Forgive them, move on," famous last words by my doctor for my other doctor and a man who broke my heart.

I actually wanted to come out here and acknowledge an old post from my first job, that I did on a hot summer's day during my last Pepperoni Pizza phase. I have phases where I obsessively consume pizza from restaurants and I didn't think I'd have one of those again but in the words of my professional Astrology associate from this year, "It's a strange year!"

The pizza phase usually has bucket lists that go in all wild directions so if you're here looking for my birthday wishlist, I'm afraid you're in for no luck. That stuff is only shared via personal communication so if you're lurking for that, text me and I'll share the link because I do have a wishlist that is somehow getting more serious by the minute.

As for the bucket list for the next five years:

Get a job that pays me enough to walk into a Prada store and buy a pair of sunglasses (I know they're all manufactured at one spot, please spare me the eyes to be better than buying something designer off the rack and a pair of sunglasses at that, it's just my thing, let me have it my way).
Get a job that pays me 60 LPA in content.
Get fitter and leaner. Pick a style of workout/exercise and get better at it.
Don't bawl when someone asks "Are you okay? you don't look okay?"
Find someone who loves me for who I am.
Find someone who will stick by me for who I am.
Find someone who wants to be there for me, for the person I am (even if it means he's there for my 60 LPA).
Adopt two cats and name them Shah Jahan and Shah Rukh.
Learn to make my favourite veggies the way my mom makes.
Learn to pickle and ferment, from my mom's recipes and then from Korean restaurants I fancy.
Double my stock investments.
Actually, forge a fucking career path.
Have my finances sorted to the detail.
Have a semblance of my personal life that looks like something I've made in my own time and space and not out of a pity party or desperate decisions at the last minute.
Focus fully well on my priorities- family, health, finances, love and friends.
Move out and move to a place I want to move to.
Stick firmly to my boundaries and not be vulnerable to the situation and people at play.
Consider motherhood with the right partner, if all the above align.
Karaoke at a bar with my best mates and fully be embarrassed.
Get into the skin of gaming and have fun while I'm at it.
Visit Japan, Italy, Turkey and Kashmir.
Find a person who will want to travel with me and let me plan the trip.
Have real good sex.
Consistently get laid.
Focus on myself.
Get a job I love.
Get a side hustle I can do while I'm asleep.
Write a TV pilot.
Work in events/Delhi culture space.

0Comments

, by Snobster

In 7 stages of grief, all I want for birthday is you

Crying break between deadlines

0Comments

, by Snobster

In all I want for birthday is you, anger

Wishlist (at last) of things I don't want

Officially old enough and idgaf. I hate most of you, anyway. Hate is weak. I loathe, despise a lot of you. I don't need affirmations in the form of cheap presents, especially when you're spending money to get that (good shit is costly, mediocre shit is also costly, the worst— cheap shit is also costly).

Here's a list of things I most definitely don't want—

Cakes. From any outlet. If you know anyone buying me a cake, stop them and put an end to that crap. I am not going to eat mass-produced, store-bought cake to ring my 30th in. I'm a motherfucking nut when it comes to cakes and if you can, find out the only cakes I like and bring it over personally. Lol, jk, don't come. I don't want to see anyone, most definitely not my friends. You all suck balls.

Local baker's handmade chocolate. Just fucking no. For that matter, any kind of chocolate is a no.

Alcohol. I had my last drink in March and while it's a bit much to say I've quit drinking with a bachelorette right around the weekend, I am trying my (Kanye) best to lay off. I don't like the hangover and I definitely don't have the company to enjoy alcohol.

Clothes, shoes, bags, jewellery, of any kind. I buy my own shit and I'm too old to pretend I like what you'll get me. What's terrifying is that I know a circle who's already bought stuff so I'm gonna have to put on a poker face and pretend I am absolutely blown over, thank youuuuuu! Not.

Smol business stuff. I don't want any. Half of them are dimwitted fools and it's a pain to interact and imagine doing all that to get something I don't like. Pathetic.

Speaking of stuff, absolutely don't want any "gift" item like a photo frame, mugs, plushies, nothing. Not at all. Please respect my aesthetic.

Gift coupons. I won't redeem, you'll be throwing your money. I don't want to shop from random fuckall places online. Yes, Amazon is a random fuckall place as are all others.

Electronics. Absolutely fucking not. I do recce for months before I get a fucking USB cable. Don't peddle me anything from that category.

Food and drinks. I'm on OMAD (one meal a day) and while the general belief that is I'm coping with bad depression and nursing an eating disorder, I am in no mood to eat take out Chinese or whatever else. I do that a lot and that's practically how I've kept myself balancing between sanity and coping with traumas of shapes and kinds.

Social media declaration. Absolutely no fucking videos, no bingos, no photographs. Nothing. Forget and move on. Chances are, you will trigger me if you do any.

Books. Unless you have access to my reading wishlist, don't you dare get me a fucking book.

If you think I'm being rude/insensitive/pathetic, chances are we haven't had a heart to heart in a while and I'd rather we continue the same. For the love of the lord, don't shove the link of this in my face and ask me questions. It's literally awkward to say, "haha you know I did it for writing". No motherfucker, this is where I'm most honest and chances are, you shouldn't even bother being here cause it's such a personal fucking space and if you were personal, maybe you would not have to read anything here.

0Comments

, by Snobster

In all I want for birthday is you, Best Friend

29

There's a very good reason, I'm writing this when I'm writing—at 7 minutes past 5 am— a whole day and a few hours since I actually slept. I'm running on serotonin and some other stuff (is that adrenaline?) and honestly, it doesn't quite matter, these details, cause in the next few minutes you'll know why.

I've not had the easiest or the best year. Hands down, this has been one of the more difficult ones. I have had to do the task of living with the idea of doing "nothing" and making "something" out of it, without my consent whatsoever. It didn't help that we're all going through a global pandemic and somehow, everyone sort of went cuckoo around the same time.

I've been in therapy for close to 40 days and while I was reluctant to give that a try, it's been a ride. I've learned more about myself than I ever did. I learned what broke me earlier this year and then over the years and then some more about the patterns I've been falling prey to. This is not to say it won't happen again, the troubles and the situations I've been in with loved ones and acquaintances but more to say, I acknowledge yes, and now, onwards growth. That growth is not linear, I'm told. For now, we are good but maybe in time to come we won't. Hence, I'm accounting for it right now.

Coming to the point (it's five minutes past the time), I'm extremely overwhelmed by what this birthday was. I don't think I need to state what I think about birthdays and especially mine. It's been the biggest festival for me, each year and somehow, given everything in my life, I just did not want to conceive a single thought about it until a week ago. I went back and forth on even something as tiny as a virtual party/get together, something I would have found myself doing pretty much monthly otherwise but just, somehow did for this time. Almost like, yeah, okay, it would be good to see people.

This is what happens when you're going through some mental turmoil. You start thinking the world aligns with you, when it doesn't.

While I had written off everything and everyone when I went off the radar (and off Facebook) a few months ago, I did not anticipate anyone reaching out, even on my birthday, which was admittedly a long time from then.

It only got worse when I went off. I called spade a spade, lost very close friends. Friends who I thought had my back and wouldn't betray my trust. There were those who intentionally chose to hurt me in ways unimaginable and those who were insensitive. Between these spectrums, I brutally slashed each and everyone out and really felt light as a feather. It's been a heck of a ride around the sun and I have to say, quite a mental adventure.

Anyway, today, I think I spoke to close to 100 people over texts, voice and video calls. It was something. I don't think I've spoken to so many people in a year, not even last year, when I was prancing around town. To each and everyone who called, attempted to reach out, drop a text and just dropped a wish, thank you. I may have replied in a rush and I may have overlooked at the time but believe me, it means a lot, especially in the light of everything I have written above.

I met my best friend Sinner for the first time this year since February. She and her partner (who is better friends with me than our other friends, yay!) surprised me last night with a home-baked cake in one of my favourite dessert flavours. More than anything, just seeing her show up out of nowhere and drive all the way from across another city was overwhelming. I can't explain what it feels like to hug someone you've shared so much of your life with when you've been deprived of contact. We've not exactly had the easiest year with each other and for her to keep up with me and being there for me, I'm going to be eternally grateful. I told her last night how she has a thing for assholes, in the light of one of her favourite motorsport drivers and me and she agreed.

Two of my other, music friends, who dropped by and sort of carried out the ritual of us being together for birthday meant a lot. We've been celebrating birthdays together since I turned 20. Nine years and many birthdays later, we are only separated by our spatial distance. We've travelled the city, the country and even the world together and have been with each other for better or for worse. To have that comfort zone I could return to and call it home on my birthday eve was extremely touching and nerve-wracking.

My family has had to deal with a handful with me. Especially this year, from my mental and physical health both, they've kept up with everything and had my back, even when I believed they did not. I don't think words can do justice to what I owe them, to be here and writing this and doing this. It means the world. For everything today, yesterday and all these years, I can't thank them enough. I'm too proud to admit I love people but I'll make an exception here. I love them, each of them to bits, even when I say I don't.

My friends who I haven't listed here—Ud, Mad, AJ, Kneeps, Pal, T-Dogg, Sloth, Mia K, SSA, US, AGN, Nyk, Pup,—have kept up with my erratic behaviour this past year. You have seen me through so much that ideally if things were okay (aka non-Covid) I would be completely embarrassed to resurface, but here we are. I have no shame whatsoever in owning to up the wild, wild cycle I've had with many breakdowns, nights of staying up and crying, and sometimes even talking to one or more than one of you and letting you in on my deepest, darkest demons. It's been a heck of a journey together and while it's not been easy, I'm forever at awe of each of you. Thank you for having me in your life and taking my shit, whether it's the frosting of the cake-related essay or ranting about the man I like who won't like me back (aka all of them, ever).

I am superstitious about writing about people and giving whole dedications so like this entire piece cancels itself out but if I'm risking it, I have to thank May. It's not easy to have me as your best friend and deal with my birthday tantrums. From literally coaxing me for days to talk about cake flavour to taking my F1 memes and hearing me talk shit 16 hours a day, she should be awarded a lifetime achievement already. However, we have a long way to go so maybe we'll talk awards posthumously. But really, for someone who's so painfully introverted and positively hating on birthdays of one and all, May goes out above and beyond to make me feel otherwise, whether I want it or not. She's sorta tied all my rhizomatic group of friends together and honestly, as social as I am, I would never tag my friends' other friends (especially those who I personally dislike and do not approve) but she went ahead, did that. There are other unmentionables that will be discussed on another, perhaps a more private platform. However, for now, I am out of words to thank May and tell her how much I miss her. I only hope she knows that. It's been the hardest setback about the year (yet).

Here's hoping to be a better sister, daughter, friend, date, student, colleague, and maybe even a girlfriend to people in my life, Whether you've been named here or not, you know who you are and how you've been instrumental in my life. You all deserve a better version of me.

It's quarter past six in the morning and I've cried a fair bit writing this. That's the thing about love. It hits you, unlike any other thing. Thank you for showing me how much you love me in acts, words, gestures, and in edibles. Here's looking forward to tying the last loose end of the 20s in a tight ribbon with all of you (if the universe grants us all that).

Birthday photographs, cake images and all the rest of it will follow soon over personal messages.

0Comments

, by Snobster

In birthday, wishlist

Non-Wishlist

0Comments

, by Snobster

In 31 shower thoughts, Am I The Only One? Yeah

Soledad

About 3-4 days ago, I started seeing "cake" references all over Twitter.

I can't say it did anything other than serving a reminder, I had to order a cake for my grandfather's birthday.

If you know me, you'd know, I'm a fucking deviant when it comes to cake and cake picking. I think, the anxiety for picking a cake and placing an order is far more than what it is when I go for a job interview or I don't know, minutes before you start kissing someone. It's fucking real, the palpitation and the pulse that races.

Could this be recreated in buttercream? No wait, this colour won't work cause baker would use a golden board and that would be a disaster.

Point being, I love cakes. I dig cakes. I am obsessed with the perfect cake.

Perfect cake has components, if they come together like improvisation in jazz, it truly does make the world's difference. It is divine. If it doesn't, well, you're fucked.

Thankfully, India has reached that point where bakers can make their cakes taste just as good as they can make it look. There's no shame in saying I've probably once had a cake abroad and despite all the fancy looks, it was quite mediocre. I will obviously withhold the fact that the cake was store-bought and purchased minutes before my birthday cause the guy who was baking the cake, fell ill and ate the whole cake by himself at home.

Then people ask about my trust issues.

Imagine my surprise, when I started seeing "cake" tweets for days together.

Did this happen when I was sedated for a day and a half in between on anti-histamines? No, can't be. I can't miss such a big reference that literally everyone's talking about it. My own friends, I saw memes, tweets.

What on earth is the cake reference?

I think the anxiety peaked as I spent close to four hours yesterday looking up a cake for my grandfather's birthday. Just keywords of what I think he would like. Man's grown up without his parents and worked hard all his life. He deserves a ridiculously good looking cake to mark all his achievements.

You see, the cake isn't just any dessert.

The cake is a marker, of how far you've come and how much you've grown. It is symbolic of the person you are. If the cake is representative of the year you're going to have or the life you will lead, would you or would you not pay attention to it?

That's the thing about birthdays. Why do we celebrate them? If it is to mark the years gone and celebrate the growth, then the cake has to be in tandem with the sentiment and if it is to mark some superstition of how the year ought to be, then it has to be even better, perhaps.

I think my family or friends don't quite understand or know the extent of my cake mania. Perhaps, the only people who truly do are the fine folks at the bakery where I order my custom cakes from. I've had the pleasure to work in the organization where the baker's daughter was interning and that's how I learned about their venture.

In the last one year and half a dozen cakes for family later, they know my mania in entirety. Any cake order will take close to a day cause that's how many times I'll go back and forth on details, image references, colours, frosting, shape, size, toppers, base details and flavour.

You may think these are words but for me, these are all blocks in putting a combination so wonderful that it makes a cake come together.

I used to take pride in recommending people food places. Now, my pride and my perfection is down to placing a cake order and believe me, the anxiety is real.

Last month, for Exhibit B's birthday, it took over 10 days for the cake to be confirmed and then 3 days of complete anxiety and anti-histamines until the cake was picked and dropped by a third party vendor.

This time, I waited until the last 4 days and did everything last minute to avoid my cake anxiety from peaking.

If you were to text and ask what did I do today, I'd have to tell you that I spent all my time planning and placing the order for the cake.

Anyway, while prepping my dinner today, I thought about the cake Twitter and how embarrassing would it be to ask someone.

Everyone who ever said, "Ask and you shall receive" they clearly meant embarrassment by the gallon.

I thought of who I could ask.

May? No. She'd tell me but it possibly will lack details cause of her internet connection.

T? Perhaps, he knows Twitter like I used to know things when I was young and he'd give me all the background info, but, he'd also judge me cause how do I not know anything.

That's true, I've hit T up more than a few times on checking on trending topics cause I've been so out of it. He's been helpful but I don't want him to not have a crush on me and if I keep asking dumb questions, the crush can only last as much.

Until ofcourse, I hit Twitter an hour ago and found a prominent writer/influencer ask "What's Cake Twitter". Lo, and behold.

I think I wasted my wish on a cake. Could have asked for something else.

(Reference of the day.)

0Comments

, by Snobster

In all I want for birthday is you, anniversary

Snobster is a teen!

Much like any teenager, Snobster is a peculiar prick. She hates the exclamation in titles and yet goes ahead and does that to herself. She also hates talking/writing in the third person but here we are.

13 long years of somewhat journalling life and letting everyone around me jump at it.

22 May 2007, a day I celebrate annually, doing the things I love. I write, I get some cake and then maybe have a good dinner.

I don't think I'm going to follow the entire ritual, largely cause the circumstances around me won't allow the fanfare, but also the Delhi Police isn't exactly rushing to supply a whole cream cheese frosted cake, complete with "Welcome to the teens!" as icing on the top. I may have clocked in thirteen years of writing and apparently being dramatic and outlandish, but hey, I have to be authentic to my preferences. Even if it means I'm annoying people and waking them up from their slumber to engage with me.

The merriment is a bit on the down-low also cause I may have taken the vows I made to myself a tad bit seriously. When I said,

Here's to the last year of us being a baby. And to the last of me being cushy.
I can't wait to fuck things up, royally.

I didn't quite realize what I was signing up for. Sure, it was dramatic and yes, I have been truly out there with my promise but it's been a hard year. I lost a publication deal, a chance to be in a book with whole author credit. I lost a job. I found myself grieving for people who hurt me and continued doing that, I found myself exposed to everything I held true to my self falling apart. If I think about this time last year, I had an average job and was living a seemingly average life. Today, I have less than half of that, after a rollercoaster ride year with highs being higher than I'd ever been and lows showing me the cracks within me. I had a nervous breakdown a week after my last blog anniversary, I've been through a course of anti-depressants. I have cried more than I ever did in my life and then found solace in people who I never thought would make it.

I definitely did stop overthinking. It took 13 years to do that and kill that part of me so celebrations are in order. Nobody tells an overthinker that a downside of not overthinking is not assessing what you're in for next, which is what happened here. I waited calmly and took each day by the hour to see things unfold that I didn't imagine would.

Would I go back and change it? Not circumstantially but I would prefer keeping a lot of things and people out of my life, that I did sign up for in the last year. I would want to go back and call each of those out, to myself, out loud, as I weighed the pros and cons before walking into any of those with people or alone.

That includes Phuket. What a waste of a holiday destination. Yes, it's pretty and yes, the beach is amazing but give me a dirty Pattaya beach and the nightlife and I'll take that over the sanitized beach with Indians catcalling any set of legs that walked past them.

Someone who I had completely written off in my life entered again and much as I find myself being hard on me and them together, I found myself relaying how grateful I am to them for being there. People see the bad in the others but they don't seem to think about how the bad trains you for the future, to tackle hurdles and get past them. That one or hundred instances with that individual taught me more life than 14 years of school did, two of which are journalled here.

I took a break from this page last year, despite saying I won't. I was told the writing changed. It was relatable and nice-r and definitely more resonating. However, it wasn't authentic. It wasn't "me", the galling, loud, self-proclaimed bad-bitch or whatever else. A friend who has been reading this page in lieu of catching up with me for years called me across timezones and we spoke like old friends. While he knew every little thing that the page said, he confessed as much as that he missed me and missed reading about me, from me. That's how much of a difference there has been between 12 and 13. It's the same kind of difference between 7 pm and 8 pm. While 7 is still an indicator of fading daylight and activity, there's a sense of darkness and lethargy that comes with 8 pm. You know you're onwards the end.

Does it mean my time here is dated?

I'll leave that for speculation. As for now, I'll grab my first meal of the day at 4:20 pm. My 2007 self would be horrified at that but then again, my 2007 self was far cooler than most people I know today and even me.

I miss being me and writing here and I wish I could bring that person and her confidence back.

Here's hoping with my anniversary wish this year. May I be truly joyous with everything I do and put my heart into. It's high time, I deserve happiness. I do.