Comme Ci, Comme Ca

Life finds a way to cheat you out of the things you cherish most.

It was my second year in primary school. I can’t recall if the year had just begun or was about to end. I was home eating dinner while dad was watching the news. I hated news hour and kept asking him to change the channel. As always no one listened. That’s when the phone rang. My best friend was on the line. She told me she was moving out of Bombay. Her dad had been transferred to some place in Gujarat . I said what, ok…good bye and call me. Her parents said goodbye too. I should’ve spoken a while longer. But I didn’t. I don’t think I understood the situation. And I didn’t think she would forget me.

Cinni Varghese…maybe it’s Cini, or Sini or probably Sinny was my first best friend…I don’t know how her name is spelt. At age 7 I didn’t care much about spellings. We had been friends for only about a year but the memories are vivid. She had short, furiously curly hair that was forced into two little ponytails, one on either side of her perfectly round head. I remember her bright eyes and big smile. It was that smile that greeted me every day at school. She used to do this funny trick with her eyes that made me laugh. We sat together in class and during lunch time. We always played ‘teacher-teacher’ though the game in fact required one of us to be the student.

I never heard from her after that short telephone conversation. She hadn’t mentioned moving from the city while we were in school. How was I supposed to realize what was happening in 2 rushed minutes? I couldn’t contact her again because all I had was a useless Bombay phone number.

There are so many friends I’ve made in the following years. I love them all dearly. I will hold on firmly this time for I cannot afford to lose another friend.

I can never forget Cinni though. When I think of her I wonder how many friends she has made. What school did she go to in Gujarat ? What is she studying now? How much has she changed? What’s her college like? I want to tell her everything that’s happened since she left. I think of the many birthdays I didn’t get to wish her on. I think of the countless jokes I didn’t get to tell her and the various secrets left unshared. I wonder if she misses me too. I hope she remembers how my name is spelt and…that she remembers my name. I also hope she reads this blog. I hope for too much sometimes.

They tell me the world is a small place. Still searching…

Sometimes I wish I could grow up sooner.

I imagine myself working in a busy newsroom or a bustling ad agency. I smile at the thought of me being important. I dream of people approaching me for my suggestions. I’m tired of my insignificant existence even as the most hectic phase of my so-far boring student life is yet to begin. But it would feel nice to be counted. So I’ll let my imagination take over…

I want to walk into office, be greeted with a smile and then rush to the coffee machine.

I want to stride over to my desk and set my bag on the table. I want to tie my hair back, roll up my sleeves and gear up for a hard day’s work. I want to work furiously, churning out articles or designing a campaign. I want to be faced with seemingly impossible deadlines and still be able to meet them. I want to be tested. I want to be paid? I want to walk over to my colleagues and mull over a problem. I want to attend meetings and conferences. I want to bully the interns and…yup, make them bring me coffee. (I’m so unsurprising) I want a promotion. I want a raise. I want to change my job.

Wait I don’t even have the job…!

That’s right. When I get that job I’m sure I’ll want to return to my boring student days. The grass is always greener on the other side. So I’ll shut up for now.

I always watch beauty pageants because they make me laugh.

I hear them say- ‘Beauty outside is nothing without beauty of the soul. It is the mind and the heart that have to be beautiful. You have to be a lovely person inside…blah…heal the world….blah…helping hand…blah’

This answer coming from women who are a minimum 5 ft 7 inches tall, 36-24-36 and who’ve probably never as much as washed a dish in their lives does sound ironic. They want to help society? Fair enough.

I mean they’re already doing their bit. By starving themselves, these models are saving our resources. That should definitely help feed poorer countries of the world.

But it makes me wonder about beauty. How powerful is it? Is prettiness a good enough reason for us to accept such tremendously fake, memorized replies? Who defines beauty? I’ve heard it lies in the eye of the beholder. If that’s true then I must say that these tailor-made, almost plastic women hold little beauty in my eyes.

I see more beauty in the toothless smile of an old, wrinkly man. I do not see it in anorexia. I see beauty in our villages, where the women wear fresh flowers in their hair that never match with their clothes. I see beauty in the ordinary people that come forward to help you when you trip and fall. They don’t ask for anything in return. No shiny crowns, money or titles. They just help you up and blend into the crowd. I see beauty in the loving eyes of all mothers. I see it in the simplicity of the poor, the prudence of the middle-class and the generosity of the rich.

Damn those silly pageants. I have redefined beauty. We are all beautiful who do not aim to be only that.

P.S: I clicked this pic of a local woman in alibaug on my last trip and it’s one of the coolest moments I’ve ever captured.

 (that doesn’t say much but yeah)

I went to the theatre and watched a movie alone that day. A few days later, I went shopping all by myself. It wasn’t because no one wanted to come along. I just preferred spending time with me.

Have you ever shared a moment with yourself? You must if you haven’t for nothing feels quite as good.

Go ahead and give yourself a hug today. Clap for yourself. Smile at your reflection in the mirror. Blow it a kiss.

Stop on the street to admire the way your feet look. Do a little jig on your way to work. Hum your favourite tune out loudly. Paint your nails in every possible shade. Wear pink if you want to, yup even if you’re a guy.

Go bald if you like. Eat your favourite food. Shut the world out and laugh without a joke. Cook even if people refuse to eat what you make. Click thousands of pictures of yourself. Record you voice and listen to it. Watch your favourite shows on TV. Cry like a baby if it makes you feel good. Learn to love yourself. Give yourself a break. Do what makes you happy. Stop posing as some martyr who sacrifices for the greater good of humanity. Because you’re cracking me up. Listen- if you’re not happy, you can’t make others happy. Period.

So flaunt your flaws. And let the world fall in love with you.