What is intimacy?
To me, it's
SEX.
Haha no, not really.
Well maybe, a bit.

It is telling him
About the dream you had last night;
About your fear
Of
Drowning under colossal waves;
About shopping for groceries
And arguing over gherkins.
It is about reminding
Him that he's capable and smart;
That he can get there if he wants;
That his friends are there
For him, and his dad
Really does love him.

It is cleaning the kitchen
Together, or rolling a joint while
He cooks Christmas dinner.
It is watching the sky turn
Orange.
It is seeing him laugh across the room
With strangers and
Rescuing him because you can tell he's faking.

It is sharing what you write,
Or telling him how you'll
Raise your kids.
It is sharing a
Secret that you both protect
From everyone else.

It makes the whole greater than its parts.

It's the fourth day of the New Year and so far, the feeling of new beginnings haven't ebbed away completely. Lots of revelations though. It's been a strange few weeks, with a lot of futile introspection. I've realized I really dislike being alone. But I also can't stand the company of people. 

Yesterday, I had to go to work for a meeting. The office was pretty empty because it was a Saturday, and after the meeting (and taking advantage of the internet to download a few torrents), I went to lunch at Evergreens. In the midst of the hustle bustle of this restaurant (why it was busy even at 4 PM, I have no idea), I sat there by myself and looked around. Friends talking, families eating together, uncles, aunties, firangs, waiters. So much conversation all around me, and I felt relieved to have the peace to observe all these people. Just so happy to be able to order my aloo parantha in peace, and not have to talk to anyone. Also, there's a rarity attached to the occurrence of a girl in Delhi eating alone at a restaurant. Why people  here don't like being by themselves once in a while, I'll never know. 

Anyway, I realized I've started enjoying solitude more than company, and I wonder if that should be a a warning signal. But I've really had it with small talk. Is that making me antisocial? Every day I wonder what sort of person I am. It's a little tiring. 

More and more I found myself at a loss for words and didn't want to hear other people talking either. Their conversations seemed false and empty. I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone. - Paula McLain

Story of life. 

When I was ten years old, my dream in life was to become the President of India and make everyone stop littering. Unfortunately I had to grow up and realize that a) the President in India is practically a non-entity and b) getting Delhi people to stop littering is improbable, if not impossible. But anyway, the point is, I shot high and mighty as a child, and embraced (or was strapped in a strait jacket to) practicality at a later stage in life. (Side note: my brother wanted to be an ice cream delivery man, so that should clarify the length and breadth of the intellectual spectrum in our house.)

Now, I have a ten year old cousin, in the prime of innocence, at the peak of her imagination propensity, and when I asked her what she wanted to be when she grows up, she said,

'I want to be a lecturer.'

It is not uncommon for children to want to be teachers, but a lecturer seemed like a deviation from the usual answers of I want to go to the moon or I want to eat dirt. So I probed further. Why? I asked. 'Because it's a stable job and I can work in the university forever.' This child had dreams of getting tenure at an age where my biggest concern was whether or not I would make it home in time for Spongebob Squarepants.

Behind her, her mother was nodding voraciously. She wanted to be an actress, the mother said, but we got rid of that silly idea, didn't we honey? The child nodded along, albeit hesitantly. I gained an insight into how indoctrination in North Korea must work.

Okay, so comparing the relationship between a slightly(?) controlling mother and her daughter to enculturation in a totalitarian regime is a bit of a stretch. The mother obviously wants what is best for her daughter.

But that is a dangerous concept, isn't it? I only want what's best for you, says the society that encourages engineering above literature.  I only want what's best for you, say the women in a village where female circumcision is encouraged.  I only want what's best for you, says the government that tear gases its civilians into submission. (Did that escalate too quickly?)

And when we grow up, we propagate the same skewed paradigm of the 'greater good', sending our children down the same morbid spiral of obedience, unawareness and limitation. At what point does our naivete end?

this weird empty scared feeling.

waiting for life to happen to me. 

right now my existence is a miasma of emptiness, confusion and alternate reality where i spend half my days in the fictional world of R. R. Martin. you'd think having so much free time would be conducive to some sort of productive activity. that i'd go about frolicking, "taking it all in", making the most of being in a foreign country, being young, writing a book or something. sadly i lack all of that gung-ho spirit apparently, and prefer to spend my days in escapism. if it's reading, it can't be a complete waste of time right? "A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone if it is to keep its edge." Some tiny consolations.

what's remarkable is the striking difference between my life now and six months ago. it's as if the radio station changed suddenly from rock and roll to an out of tune religious sermon by an old guy in a raspy voice. and not the good raspy either. i shouldn't be so negative, this is hardly a "struggle." i have a home, books, internet connection and cake. but i want to KNOW and EXPERIENCE and be part of the world in a way that doesn't make me want to tear out my hair in frustration.

if i were a guy i'd be sick by now of the whininess.

there is one thing though about this place that i love. the air here is the best air. i mean. if air were food, this air would taste the best, no questions. its fresh and always smells like grass. the nice kind, not the smoking kind. whenever im outside i just want to keep inhaling and never breathe out.

today i heard somewhere that when you're in space, time slows down as you get closer to a black hole, and it stops completely when you're inside the black hole, and that would be the perfect place to fall in love, and when i heard it (online) i vigorously nodded along saying EXACTLY and THIS is what we need, to fall in love in a black hole where time doesn't fucking move forward and we can just be and be and be. where no one has to say goodbye or be left behind. where there is just me and you and its simple and easy (barring the lack of oxygen or gravity or any sort of life sustaining matter). how amazing would it be to love without the feeling that the clock is ticking, and our time is running out. not in an impending doom type of way.

time for an abrupt ending.