You are so ready to feel loved and feel worthy of being loved and yet you are so choosy on what that love would look like. Think of all the various types of love you have received in your life and realize that someone who is always late all the time isn’t really that bad. Some of the people who said they loved you just wanted to find a shortcut into your pants or they called you names, hit you, messed up your head and left you all in the name of affection. Life forces you to reach a stage when even someone remotely showing interested in you, makes you feel like you’ve caught the big fish.
You allow the disdainful courtship to proceed fairly quickly because you want to hear them say “I Love You”. Getting to know them properly with proper amounts of reflection and hesitation is currently not your plan of action. There is just someone frequently finding themselves in your arms, giving you a sense of devotion. You don’t even feel that you deserve more.
You hold on to them very tightly sitting together on the sofa of a posh upmarket café, knowing that the moment you both leave things will be different. You come to get used to the fact that they only give love in minute amounts, yet you cannot get accustomed to it. You feel a certain amount of longing even when they are only a few feet away from you. Their presence at your side is always a pleasant surprise, never something that you can ever take for granted.
You ask them for more signs of commitment and they stall you. You want them to tell you how much they need you but inside you know that they will say it only to please you. You quietly pray to god for a version of them that cares about you as much as you do for them. You quietly wish that they take you to a place with all their friends and proudly present you to every new person you meet. Just think about the life you would’ve had, if you did not know that they somehow felt ashamed about you. You know that they will never declare true love but bring yourself to believe that you don’t care.
But you do.
You feel the grasp of the relation closing around your neck and yet you don’t get a kick in the shin to tell you that “You deserve better”. You tell yourself that you expected worse than this and are contempt with the current situation, shame on you.
You meet a common friend on the road and they ask you “How long have you been in love?” and your ‘lover’ meekly replies “Ohh! We’re just seeing each other!” It suddenly brings you to realize that you are in a platonic relationship but you gave them free benefits, all that you planned with them was just like contemplated suicide, harsh.
Best of luck explaining the situation to all your closest friends who you told about your true love.
You tell them you are not in love.
You know you are.
You tell yourself that you’ll choose wisely next time. You won’t.
I wake up on Mondays thinking that it is absolutely idiotic to go to college. My college, although a scumbag on all counts suddenly decided that we should not have more than 3 classes on Monday. So I wake up at 7:30, fight with sleep and cold water and everything, then jostle through traffic at 15 different points of my route and finally reach college at 9:15. Whoosh 3 hours later I am free for the day with nothing to do, Happy that I am now free, Sad that tomorrow I have college till 5pm, bastard I tell you.
It was hot today but Madame Haldar was convinced otherwise. She thought it was the beautiful autumn sun that we both love. I thought that it was hot. Anyway I gave into her ideas and we decided to go to Old Fort to click pictures and do boating. It was to be our first photo walk in a long long time.
On reaching Old Fort Barnita discovered that it was really still quite hot and we turned into sweaty messes in just about 5 minutes. However the camera kept dragging us on, once you are possessed by it there’s no letting go. So we went crazy and kept clicking lots and lots of pictures but finally the heat got to us. We even gave up on the idea of boating.
Cooling ourselves with a glass of chilled Lassi and a Coke we headed out to have lunch as our stomachs were rumbling quite loudly. Now this is the point where something really funny happened. We had decided to go to Khan Market but somehow I just couldn’t manage to find it. We followed the road signs and asked people, the whole shebang but we just couldn’t find it.
Wandering about a bit more in the car we reached Lodi Garden which was also were we had one of our best photo walks and Barnita had clicked an amazing picture of a tree. Suddenly my brain churned up some distant thoughts and I remembered that the Alliance Francaise Cafeteria claimed to have some nice and cheap food and hence with Barnita’s approval we both set out to a lunch in Alliance Francaise.
The surroundings encouraged us to try out a French dish and there were definitely some on the menu. Yay. 😀 I really wanted to have fish fingers for a change and that really made Barnita happy. (More on my affliction towards fish later) The other item on the menu I had my eyes set on was the Chicken Cordon Bleu. Sadly both the Fish Fingers and the Cordon Bleu was unavailable. I settled for a Poulet a la Normandy(Grilled Chicken with Mash Potato and Salad) – Rs. 200, a Mushroom Cheese Omelette – Rs. 50 and the usual culprit a singular Lemon Iced Tea – Rs. 30. The quantity was quite generous but I found the Mashed Potato a bit dry and the Grilled Chicken a bit undercooked, but the flavours were intact and nice. It did well to fill our stomachs and the Omelette was just the way I liked it so no complains there.
After lunch it started raining and Barnita had an amazing idea to go boating near India Gate. After wandering around various roads in Lutyen’s Delhi we finally reached India gate. The boat ride was nice and romantic and a beautiful end to an amazing day.
ON the way back it started raining cats and dogs and Barnita went crazy clicking pictures. 😀
Sadly and obviously there was a part involving us being stuck in traffic for 40 minutes but that can still be overlooked.
All in all an amazing day after a long long time. 😀
Putting it forth more as a general observation than a general statement; Women love to shop.
Women love to meander their way through floors of one shopping arcade after another. They like to glide up glass escalators past a grand piano, or spray a perfume sample on themselves on their way to, maybe, making a purchase. Sale’s make them go even crazier. They’ll pick up every item of clothing on sale, put it against their body, critique it and put it back. Even then the Sales People pay more attention to them.
When they go on to the next shop and find a similar item of clothing as in the one before, they definitely have to know the price and then comment on whichever was better. Women are also considered masters in bargaining, if I could I’d let a lady do all my purchasing while I select the items myself. Just helps getting better value for money that way. Although I speak with no personal experience of being present with a girl choosing make-up, (Mine believes in simplicity, Bless her. :* ) I can definitely say that it must one hell of a dung bomb. Standing there seeing the girl with you pouting her lips, applying lipstick, taking it off, applying another and so the vicious circle continues. I feel blessed that I don’t have to go through this at least.
We men follow a simple routine: Enter, Select, Try, Buy, Exit. That’s it. We’re done and settled for at least the coming two months. I’m not saying that we follow this routine for everything we buy, No. I’m just commenting with respect to clothes, accessories, make-up and personal grooming.
Shopping for women is generally followed up by a widespread discussion of what she bought, how cheap it was and how awesome she thinks she looks in it with all of her female friends. While with men it’s just a thumbs up from your buddy next day in college.
While women have shopped with men (boyfriend/fiancé/husband) or at least tried, they seldom enjoy the experience. As I would say, Men are just more practical. We wouldn’t do any of those impractical things. Men on the other hand rarely shop with women if they’re not dating/married/to-be-married. It just causes us too much mental trauma.
Some studies even say that how men and women shop is sometimes related to how they indulgence in sex. Men start, do the deed and want to turn over and sleep while women see sex almost as a theatre drama with 3 main acts; Foreplay, Intercourse and After Play or Pillow Talk. Some men are different and so are some women.
Why I write such things? Well today I broke past my critical point. Almost 6 hours of shopping, talking about shopping, checking out shopping, dreaming about shopping more and cribbing about lack of money. Good benevolent being up there, I think I’ve had it for a lifetime. My legs hurt, I feel pukish when I look at clothes, I become blue when I look at sale signs. Someone please explain these symptoms to me. I may be dying.
Or is it just *Shopping with Women*?
Great fields of Olives greeted me as my plane was landing in the Rome Int’l Airport. I love olives and believe it or not, these fields made me optimistic about my trip around Rome. Since childhood I had imagined the awe inspiring structures of the Roman Empire and how it would feel to be amidst them. And in totality my dream did come true. The magnificence of the 3000 year old city knows no bounds; every corner you turn brings you face to face with a monument that cannot simply be placed in this era.
I turned my imagination up a notch and began visualizing how the Romans used to live in the birthplace of civilization. The gladiators fighting in the colosseum, the roman forum full of roman philosophers, the likes of Marcus Aurelius and Plotinus. I was feeling quite majestic myself and it took quite a lot of self-restraint on my part not to pick up a sword and charge.
After reveling in the outer beauty of these wonders I went inside. The art on the ceilings, the intricate and exquisite detail on the statues were an amazing experience. You can never admire them enough, not in front of them and neither in afterthought. Each painting and sculpture had a style of their own, each different from the other. Yet there were some made centuries apart which looked almost the same, it was marvelous.
Having soaked in the many sights of Rome I had a carnal urge to move towards the smells, the famous Roman cuisine. I hogged on everything that I could lay my eyes on, Pastas, Pizzas, Gelatos, everything vanished in a jiffy. The food is definitely worth dying for; I’d happily give up everything to be amongst this kind of food for a lifetime. The varieties of Pizzas, Pastas, Meats and Gelatos available were mind boggling.
Rome is a wondrous city, a city perfect for wanderers, perfect for people who get lost in the city and not the people. You can sit and admire the beauty of Rome for hours to an end, yet every time you begin to write words will fall short. I’ve definitely marked Rome as one of the places I would love to go back to, maybe this time on a Roman Holiday.
She crept up silently from her bed and dusted the night’s madness off her self. It was an eerie hour of dawn and she began preparing her mind for the ordeal that lay ahead. She got off her tiny bed and looked out the window of her cramped little room.
The vastness of the view seemed to fight her meek existense, as if to sound out a challenge. She closed the shutters and rid herself of the prying eyes, the soul less glares. She tiptoed towards the bathroom stealing glances behind her, trying to find shadows in the non existent crevices of her dingy room. The shower welcomed her with warmth against the chill of the city.
She stood beneath the running water, a lifeless form, castrating thoughts, memories and distinguished nightmares from her mind. She was fighting it all but she knew today will be her last. She made herself a cocoon with the towel and wore her everyday clothes, a jeans, a t-shirt and the power to endure all.
She gathered her bag and left the room, her sad eyes scanned the room knowing that the room, her world might get lost today. She tiptoed down the stairs and into the open road, into the freedom.
Her clothes felt weird on her body, in reality she felt naked as she watched each man she passed by, strip her with his eyes. She pulled her clothes in tighter, afraid that they’ll be taken away in a horrible sort of way. She passed by more lecherous men and with time the glares got stronger, almost open challenging her chastity. Lewd actions had started making their presence felt, gestures of breast gropes and other horrid fantasies.
She felt like a hamster in a cage, running on a wheel to no result. Her mind fluttered in her darkness as her body took part in material erotica of the people she passed by. A crowd was approaching and as she was being justled from side to side she felt lingering touches on her breasts and bottom. Uncomfortable as she was, she had no choice, it was a ritual almost.
She remembered the senile old man who groped as she was touching his feet, the roadside romeos who pulled out their appendages even without any provocation from her side. The cars with black tinted windows who stopped beside her asking how much she took for the night. Men with their mind in the gutters, men whose head were still held high.
She looked behind abruptly and saw three men following her closely with evident malicious intent. She saw the gate on her left, it was close. Perhaps she should run but that would show her weakness. She walked on at a quiet pace, her ears rejecting the bile that came from the mouths of the men.
She saw the men catch up to her, she flanked to her right and entered the gate. She had reached college, she was safe another day, her life returned to her.
She would live for another day, her life was still safe but she would have to endure it again. Tomorrow, day after, day after day, such has become the existence of women in our horrid society.
Written on the eve of Women’s Day.
Distances have acted as bonding reagents and have made relationships fall apart. They act both as a curse and a cure.
People often talk about maintaining distance, private space and other foolhardy things. And so to speak they are significant words but they have no effect on day to day life.
If I love someone I do not give a damn about their so called personal space. I will not let you mope and leave you alone. Not now, not ever. I will poke you and poke you and either find out the problem or take a good hiding from you.
<Enter love of my life>
Now she is one person who always gets my hands full at all times. I always used to be the cool headed person around with the most logic solutions. And all of you should look at how hard I’ve to work with her. No. It is in no way a complain. Not per say that I have to work at things with her. No. I love the way she looks at things. I love the way she sets her mind on one thing and goes to no end to see it done. I love the way she managed to turn the pessimistic; I’ve known myself to be all my life; into a blind optimist. I love the way she corrects me when I’m wrong. The most amazing she does is love me and take care of me no matter how many shortfalls I may have in life.
I shout at her, I scream at her, I have hurt her in many ways but no matter what she is almost the only person in the entire world who can control my anger or simply make it vanish in a minute.
I don’t care about the distance that may seprate us. I know not what the future stores for us. I’ve earned your trust, I hope I have, and I want to have the comfort of blindly trusting you for the rest of my life.
I know I’m not the most perfect person in the world, I don’t think I even come close to that. I have major issues and I know it is only you who understands every single detail of my life.
Distance never separates two hearts that really care, for our memories span the miles and in seconds we are there. But whenever I start feeling sad, because I miss you, I remind myself how lucky I am to have someone so special to miss.
I’m so damn lucky that I have you in my life to take care of me, now, forever and ever more.
Never think that I’ll be leave you, never ever worry about that. This bond we have is much deeper and more meaningful than anyone except us can understand. I owe a lot to you. You have changed me for the better in more ways than I count. And I deeply believe that with you by my side I have a pretty awesome shot at perfection. 😉
People say that behind every successful man there’s a woman. People are idiots. I’d rather have you by my side. :*
Quite matter of factly I started blogging just to catch attention of people, to be noticed and maybe to be even taken seriously. I never quite caught on with the phenomenon of blogging initially. I just wrote different kinds of things, poems and all and posted it. I had always fantasised about being known and renowned for my writing ability. I was a clear cut wannabe when I started out on the blogging circuit; I actually thought blogging would impress the ladies, hard luck there. I made a blog wrote some poems and forgot about it, after some time I read a blog and the spark ignited again but I had to make a new blog. And like that I was never constant with one blog. A few posts and I got bored and left. This happened over and over again. Until I struck upon the idea of the Prince of Prose blog.
I declared the blog open with a very proud and whimsical introduction. Aptly followed by a very dark poem about a beggar. It was quite a disturbing and hopeless time in my life. The 12th Board Exams had just gotten over and I was struggling with college. It suited my frame of mind and hence I made the blog. I poured all my angst into it. Sometimes creativity, sometimes thought sometimes just someone else’s Apricot. Then college began, along with the journey of fiction, I wrote two incomplete novels at 12000 words each.
I’ve missed writing in the blog for 3-4 months at a time but I’ve still stuck with it. So on the occasion of my 50th post I thank you all for sticking with my blog, my long obsessive and flowery writing and my irregularity. Thank you all, I’m very much indebted to you!