The Pitstop

…who are not just pretty but also well-dressed and who radiate a strong sense of dressing and ooze a subtle attitude of being in touch with style and fashion. I am sure you admire them too. C’mon, if you are a woman and reading this, admit it and you’ll feel liberated. The secret’s long been out anyways. The quicker you accept this fact, the better for you. “WOMEN DRESS TO BE NOTICED BY OTHER WOMEN.”

Not to say that we dont “want” to be noticed by the other gender. But you know it as clearly as me, that the effort/thought we put in to put together even a casual ensemble can be noticed only by another one of our kinds. Who other than another girl can spot those rare silver earrings, the color coordination or the contrast between the footwear and the dress, and the style of the bag against the outfit of the day?

I confess I like to size up women from top to bottom and take notes – “hun, that shirt is nice” or “I like the way she’s done her hair” or “I wonder where she got those shoes from” (and each time I go “Damn, I never spot those things when I go shopping”) or “Her nails are so shapely” or “I like her lipstick shade”. Now, now, you wouldnt expect a guy to share these observations with you, would you? For guys, in general (there are always exceptions who do notice the minutest of details), its the whole package that counts and they do not get into the minor aspects of appearance and dressing.

Well, one cannot be surrounded by beauty always, so I do have moments of “Gosh, thats an outrageous dress!” or “OMG! she cant be wearing that short a kurti with the churidars” or “The top so doesnt go with that skirt” or “The magenta lip shade is so not suiting her” and so on and so forth.

Since I am on a confession spree, I’d also like to mention that I hate to be caught staring, that too by a woman, while I am gazing at another female. To put it mildly, its embarrassing. The funny side is that I am watched by another woman…. I rest my case!

Who would not have, at one point or the other, not relied on maggi, in the absence of a.b.s.o.l.u.t.e.l.y any other options to quench ‘paapi pate’s bhook’. Stuck at home on a night, suddenly you realize there’s nothing at home to cook and its too late to step out to grab a bite, you turn to Maggi. Feeling sick, tired, or lazy to cook, Maggi’s your quick and tasty answer to these ‘unplanned situations’ in life. Single and your cook took an uninformed leave, its maggi time. Riot in the city and you didnt get a chance to replenish your stock of meats or veggies – well, you know what you can depend on. Mostly everybody makes their grocery and veggie purchases over a weekend, but well, there’s a never-ending or a regularly refreshed supply of this ever-so-dependable item.

There are now healthier options available in the Maggi family – the wheat Maggi, so less guilt on conscience for gorging on maida.  Thats for some who prefer the ‘healthy and nutritious’ maggi. But I still go for the ‘maida’ option Its tastier. I’ll let you into a little secret, which wont remain so once you know about it. Even when I do have food at home, and have the options of making either rice or maggi, I go for the latter. Wasnt that big a secret…hmm. Though with both rice and maggi, all it takes is to put them into boiling water, no more effort, yet maggi’s what attracts me more, more so when I am home alone. I’m also a lazy brat, at least am turning into one or rather letting myself be one. Thats just another secret I’ve just let you into! Rice has an additional step of washing it before it can be cooked . Pasta too, though simple to prepare, has too many steps and takes longer than the other ’2-mintues’ meal.

So unless I’ve resolved to eat healthy and purposely not stocked up any of ‘it’ at home, like the time when I was alone for a couple of weeks because of hubby’s out-of-India trip and cooked up every single meal for myself, I do yield in to the temptation every once in a (long/short) while.

I have come to believe that saying that aloud to myself (My Life Rocks) and declaring it publicly will eventually make me feel that way – good about myself and my life.

Every day you happen to ask as well as answer the question innumerable times  “How are you doing?”. I found more people answering with a “Good”, “Great”, quite unlike to mine rather sad “Fine” and “Ok’. I mean, thats truly how I felt on most days – not too great; life was fine, just chugging along, but not really awesome for me to feel like the others. I had more complaints, cribs, grudges, dissatisfaction than reasons for being happy, content. (Back to this in a while)

Even if I ever did feel good some day for some reason, I tried to hide it. I started understating my joyful moments to others. I just didnt want anyone to misequate my happiness to me leading a fun-filled/luxurious/worry-free/responsibility-free life, especially when it was not like that in reality. And with time, it had become an inherent part of me to portray a miserable, not-so-happening, not-so-exciting life.

With me carrying on with my life on this track, while also being very much conscious of it, I did start feeling the absurdity of how I was tackling this whole thing. I realized that I was paining myself to show others a pained side of me. I was hurting myself by keeping joys under wrap. I was pulling myself down and keeping myself away from leading an open life. It also occurred to me that everybody who was saying they’re doing great (coming to the earlier stated point) didnt exactly have a problem-free life.

Prodding on this for long, one fine day I concluded it was okay to feel positive about myself and my life and I should not stop it from reflecting off me in its true nature, irrespective of what impression it might have on others. I decided I have to stop caring if my reasons of happiness would make somebody else feel jealous, miserable, less blessed, unfortunate, or less lucky. Its much cliched but I needed to just let go and learn to just be myself. Needed to tell myself that my life indeed rocks, for multiple reasons. No pretense, no lies, no understatements. And it suddenly uncomplicated a lot of things and situations. I have actually started feeling freer, happier, and surprisingly more content. Its okay to be luckier than others, at least in some respects . Guess thats the core feeling that had been bothering me. Earlier, I would feel guilty for sharing my excitement thinking it might sadden others at their state of affairs.

I do believe that life takes a full circle, with everybody getting their share of highs and lows, good times and bad times. I too go through hard times when the whole world seems to be having fun. So I neednt feel guilty when I am having fun while some others cannot. After all, eventually it all balances out.

I am not sure how articulate I have been and how clear this whole issue will come across. There’s still so much that I have not been able to pen down. Its complicated . Guess thats what complexes are!

Today’s been one of the happiest days for me. Full of a feeling of contentment, completeness, satisfaction, and in some sense, of a victory in a long-fought battle.

The plight is that I cannot share my happiness with anybody . I’d like to keep it a secret from even myself, so I remain grounded and lest my little, delicate bubble of dream bursts.

Why blog about it then if I cannot share it? So that I can remember this day when I look back at it. Its a bookmark for me in my memory logs for the day I felt contented and sensed soul-touching happiness.

"jo gumshuda-sa khwaab tha
voh mil gaya
voh khil gaya
woh loha tha - pighal gaya"

Every body around me (at least 7 out of 10 people) is a somebody, excelling in something they can boast about. I am not talking about the skills they have acquired in their career/profession. I am talking about the passions they have pursued outside their profession. So, a doctor may be an outstanding cook and may have published a couple of books, or a restaurateur may be seriously pursuing painting on the side, or an IT engineer may be a photography buff. There are people who engage in social activities over the weekend, some others contribute to the Opensource world, and yet others are busy honing their skills at dance. In earlier times, just pursuing a job in addition to being a mother, father, son was doing the exceptional. Now, it seems you have some standing, you are some somebody only if you’re doing something over and above your job.

Me? I am neither a poet, nor a writer. Neither a painter, nor a rock climber. Neither a social activist, nor a good citizen. Neither a dancer, nor a good cook. There isn’t a single thing I can say I am good at or I would love to do. I am just living as it comes, not striving to be anywhere, not striving to be somebody, not striving to sharpen any skills that I may be faintly good at it. I am not passionate about something/anything. Or so it seems. Because there are things I would like to pursue but I am not pushy enough to bring them to implementation. That makes me seem uncaring, unpassionate about my apparent “passions”.

Who then am I? Where do I stand in the society? What am I contributing to the world? What am I achieving in my lifetime? Do I really need to be somebody? Can’t I just be, be nobody, be whatever I am, just continue to live life the way its going, and gradually wither off?

The good news is that that my going away from this world will not be such a big loss for the humankind. Nobody is going to particularly miss me for some skills I possessed because I never acquired them. I don’t necessarily yearn for people to remember me after I am gone, or for that matter, even when I exist.