“I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I’ve become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me. I have no patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature.I lost the will to please those who do not like me, to love those who do not love me and to smile at those who do not want to smile at me. I no longer spend a single minute on those who lie or want to manipulate. I decided not to coexist anymore with pretense, hypocrisy, dishonesty and cheap praise.I do not tolerate selective erudition nor academic arrogance. I do not adjust either to popular gossiping. I hate conflict and comparisons. I believe in a world of opposites and that’s why I avoid people with rigid and inflexible personalities. In friendship I dislike the lack of loyalty and betrayal. I do not get along with those who do not know how to give a compliment or a word of encouragement.Exaggerations bore me and I have difficulty accepting those who do not like animals. And on top of everything I have no patience for anyone who does not deserve my patience.”
The wheels: They never stop.
Icy cold sneaky fingers wrapped her fragile heart and squeezed it blue. She gasped, unable to breathe steady anymore. Her breath got shorter, her eyes wider. The tongue ran dry and she bit her upper lid hard, willing for the words that formed in her head to not spill. Once they spilled, they were out. They would escape, forming concrete words, visuals and audible. They became real. As long as they stayed in, they were not palpable. Still dismissive in nature.
She wanted the fear gone.
She thought and shut her eyes tight.
The words swirled. Like dark gray sinuous curls of smoke from a depressing English landscape, the words floated in her mind.
“Friendships die, silently. Like dying embers of a flame. Painful and slow”
The words struck her with a force. There was truth to it, she had to admit, even if she didn’t want to.
A tear escaped her eyes and instinctively, she swallowed the rest down. She pushed a few wayward strands of her hair away from her face, blinked rapidly and drawing her mouth into a straight line, she breathed in deep a few times. With a firm turn of her head, her eyes opened, and she looked straight ahead, misty-eyed, but with a sharpness that belied her quivering lip and her now pink nose.
“No! No you don’t trust me anymore! If you did, you wouldn’t have rushed me out of the house in such a hurry. Not once, but every single time I came in, you couldn’t wait for me to leave!”
“I love you too you know, it hurts.”
“Are you really my best friend? Will you be my partner in crime?”
“You are scared of me right? I scare you! haha. You are scared what I will do with myself aren’t you?”
“I am sorry I failed you. I didn’t do anything, am incapable of understanding and providing any value. Am sorry I failed you. I wish I knew more to help you.”
“You are giving up on me aren’t you? You sound like you are. I can’t help being me, you know?”
“You actually knew that? Wow!”
” We soul mates, remember?”
“No! Why would I give up? Good friends are hard to come by, and am not giving up on one of my best ones”
“Shush, NO one has done as much as you have, and I will never take you or your effort or time for granted”
“No, you don’t scare me. In fact, I worry about you. You add on more to your plate and overthink more than it is necessary!”
“Yes, I am that kind of friend. I’ll help you get rid of the body even if I don’t approve of you killing in the first place”
“I love you da”
“I know you better than you know, and I know what you are capable of. I trust you more than I trust me”
She wished she could go back to any of those conversation nuggets that fired her brain, making her recall the nuances, the intonations, the pause in the words, the mood of the moment. Any one of them. They weren’t all pleasant. Some more emotional than others, some more playful than others, some more earnest than others. Regardless of the mood, thinking back made her eyes smile and tear alternately.
Coz you see, those times were good times even if they were not perfect.
They were friends. They were in touch. They were talking. The channels were open. They trusted and fought and made up and hugged and kissed and wanted to be with each other, however bad the disagreement was.
….But time never stood still for anyone. The wheels are turning. Always. Every minute passed becomes a memory to think back fondly. Coz most memories bring a smile, some teary smiles, some happy smiles, but smiles they were.
“The wheel turns and turns and turns: it never stops and stands still.”
.but with every turn, one is racing to create the best possible memory. A lesson learnt after many bad turns of the wheel, that nothing was worth losing what was once precious. So, she opened a window and tapped out a single word and hit Send.
With a smile on her now simple, calm face, she went to bed and for the first time in a long while, slept through the night.
When folks you love and hold dear to your heart decide to move on, move away or carry on with their life and you know it in your heart that it is the right thing for them, and you want to hold on and cry and be on the same side and be simply sad and empathetic to the changing situation YET
..all that comes out is screaming and yelling and aggressive name-calling or blaming and doing everything possible to create a tantrum, and muddy waters that froth and get bitter and angry and churn in contorted ways that frankly wants those dear ones to run like the wind and away and far, far away as possible from you. Wanting to create a distance from the person that they want to hold close yet, want to actually stay away from the person you’ve become.
Seriously? It’s only me then?
Oh well, that’s weird me.
I hold only a handful close to heart. Handful. I can count, and I will have fingers left to hold onto a spoon and shove large amounts of bhel puri into my angry, sullen mouth.
When any of them decide to throw some distance between us, even for a day,for that moment, I get frothy. I hate it when they come to say goodbye at the airports. I act like a crazed maniac. I am a maniac. I am a weird maniac.
I am way past the halfway mark, and a full blown adult and my ways are set in many ways and I know in my heart that I will die a lonely, cranky old woman. Unloved and unwanted. Not because I wasn;’t worthy of it or there aren’t enough folks who love me for who I am, but I would have successfully pushed them all away with one angry froth at a time.
No one is to be blamed but me.
I think it’s in my genes. I also think it’s a disorder that if I dig deep enough in the psychiatric annals, I will find a name for it. Cure? Maybe. Maybe not.
Until then, am best keeping my safe distance and not allowing any more folks to come close to my heart. No vacancy as they say..
I must sound helpless. I am not. I am constantly trying to help myself and am constantly failing. Either am not trying hard enough or I am beyond repair. BUT, knowing how persistent I am, I know I will lose trying.
What is it that you ask?
Does it hurt?
The hell it does. It hurts like hell. Not that I know how hell hurts, but I can guarantee you, that if I land in hell, it won’t hurt a bit coz I’d be used to it. It hurts. It hurts to be me. This is a burden I live with. A curse and a blessing. A curse coz I hurt myself more than I hurt my loved ones. A blessing coz I know and acknowledge and hence ensure I don’t hurt more by keeping safe distances from all.
The curse of loving too much.
I love black. I think most women like black, it’s a phenomenon. I havent met a single girl out there who does not approve of black. In clothing especially. Black is the great leveler, the ultimate weapon to not highlight what we dont want to highlight and has the power to make the rest of us stand out.
Think of the LBD. It is ranked as one of the most popular outfits almost all women want to own.
Not the LBD generation, then it must be the black sari. In all possible materials and designs and styles. The Kanjivaram, Mysore silk, Bengal cotton and the one with pearl work, and the sequins and the ribbon work and then the suits and so on.
You think black’s just for clothing? Nope, we love black in the kitchen, in the appliances, the couch and the cushions, the carpets, even the gorgeous black centers of black eyed susans! We love the glistening black idols in the south Indian temples, the rough hues of the ancient chiseled statues around the temples, the thick mane humans and horses and gorgeous labradors and border collies sport, the kohl that lines women’s eyes to convey the myriad emotions and we love the black backdrops in photo sessions that make the subject pop! The night sky to my beautiful dog Zephie, to the black felt marker I use to the black light filtering curtains in the sunroom, black runs my life, subtly, and in the shadows.
Black, as much as a negative connotation it may carry in some cultures, has its stand, firm and dignified, come what may attitude.
Black is my favorite color and I can never tire of not incorporating it in my wardrobe at every chance I get. So with closet predominantly full of black, what ELSE would I like to own that is black you ask? Here you go!
1. Black Tesla.
Look at that thing and tell me you aren’t drooling to sit on it, in it and just TOUCH it? Sigh.
Well, it’s Tesla. It’s black. It is amazing!
When you dream, you just as well dream big right? Go big or go home! Yes, one day. I will own or lease or rent or whatever, I will drive this beauty around!
2. Black Pearl
It’s the Tahitian pearl. Not entirely black, but rare and so expensive and is only found or made in the Tahitian waters. I am not entirely sure if I will finally buy it even if I can afford it, but it’s something Ive thought of when I heard of it and would like to own it maybe..
3. Black Kanjeevaram sari
I already own a Gadwal silk, A bengal cotton, Bengal cotton/.silk, an Oriya silk, a Mysore silk, a Lucknowi cotton sari, and a few other random material ones – all fabulous and gorgeous on their own, BUT I must own a Kanjivaram black silk ONE Day. I will, too. Just need to go get a job first.
4. Black granite countertops
We bought a house that has become a home over the past 15 years. It is our first home and well, first homes are usually more emotional than practical and most definitely more budget conscious. So, I scrimped on a few things and sacrificed a few others as we were just beginning to settle down and budget and the monthly mortgage was a priority.
Over teh years Ive loved how the granite looks and it has been one of the bigger upgrades that I want to get done. It’s expensive too, so I am waiting for an opportune moment to get it done and it’s the only upgrade/renovation I want for the home.
5. Black Golden Retriever
I have Zephie. She’s the most obedient, sweetest low-maintenance pup ever. Her dad’s a Norwegian Elkhound and her mom is a Border Collie. She is a gorgeous mix of both breeds and as luck would have it (for us) she got the best of both genes, in looks, behavior and temperament.
BUT, since a couple of months, I’ve been feeling like we could use one more little pup in the house. As a playmate for Zephie and even munchkin. We have a few Golden Retrievers around and I love them! Labs are adorable too, but somehow Goldens seem more put together, and I cant take way playful pups seeking attention 24/7 – that’s huge maintenance and we are spoilt with Zephie now. I am not sure if I will go ahead and adopt one more, what with the way things are, but it’s on the radar alright and am already excited!
So! This has been fun writing and listing all things black and beautiful! ..and I have to thank Alchemist Poonam for nudging me on. Thanks girl!