Just Doing Nothing....

I have been hopping between windows peering at people's facebook profiles, contemplating finishing the book I've been reading, and also finding new reasons to evade the text book on direct and indirect taxes. It's a week day, I'm on long leave of absence from work, and therefore have the luxury of complaining about the boredom, the unrelenting sun and the extra-soft mattress.

Some time back I was pondering over the possibility of my next blog post being a book-review - "The Better Man" by Anita Nair. I have not particularly enjoyed the read so far. I wonder if that is another sign of having grown up. The previous book authored by her that I had read when I was back in early college was "Ladies Coupe" and I was truly in love with her. So much so that I prided living in Bangalore, the same city that the author lives in. But with this book it's vastly different. Some characters are well sculpted, but there is some shallowness I find with the rest. I have grown up, I tell myself. My taste has matured. I decide upon Vikram Seth's title when I go book shopping next.

And then the face-book profiles distract me. Mostly my class mates from school. People I have not heard of in ages - ever since class 12. We are now in the mid twenties. And it seems uniform. The girls mostly have sultry pictures of themselves with peers from their work or university. Its quite typical - Black/red tops, heavily kohl lined eyes, painted nails, dangling earrings. Something felt silly. As if they have stayed at 18. Or it's possibly just me. May be I'm the one who is strange.

I have the time to make these indulgences now. And I miss those days I spent by myself in the later days of college, when it appeared that I was the only one in that whole city who chose to stay single. Sometimes I felt alone. I chided myself for being unattractive. But now, I've been married a year now. I've lost that grouse as well. I certainly don't miss being single. I'm not alone any more. But I miss being on my own. Taking off on a stroll just like that. Long naps. Doing nothing. No questions. No answers. A single room, I kept straightening time and again was my pastime. And thoughts. That was then - some four years back. It all looked so disdainful then. But now, looking back there was colour. And I'm happy with the way it was.

Even now, between typing this, sneak peeking into other peoples face book profiles, missing my husband and my old life, thinking about how much my life will have turned in a month from now, thinking of the air conditioning in which to enjoy my noonly siesta, my head nods, and I stop right here.

Come back!

Yea. Well I decided I will not wait until a year before I publish the next post.

And so after a great big deal of contemplation and mulling over,I'm typing this...the heat from my laptop nearly singeing the skin of my thigh, as if the summer drone were not enough.

I keep thinking about this space even when I don't write here. I'm glad it exists and I'm even more glad that its mine. Wholly mine. Not up for any kind of accommodation or compromise. Just there, as I tailor it. Up for comments, yet will simply be there.

I've considered moving - moving from here. And have dismissed the idea. The thought comes more because some people think they can or do in fact, keep track of my life and its very interesting, serpentine events through this medium. There is a point there I know. And it stops at that.

For now, I stay here. Hope to come back more often.

Ummm... I don't know!

Well, right now I think my blog would have been ready to write its last and final testament (read: will), but for the complete absence of a fitting heir. And so, it decides to pull on, in the dreary winter of Bangalore, with the last remanants of its owner's sympathy.

It's not only lately, that I've realized that my conversations are vastly different from what they used to be some time ago. It's more about prices of vegetables and pulses, how to set the curds, and the best way to wash my husband's whites. Damn! I think I never did notice the little house holder creep under my skin. And I see it's here to stay for a long long time to come. I'm unsure how to assess this change, and whether to classify it as good or bad. It's possibly inevitable, and a necessary part my evolution from a girl to a wife. It's also something I cannot avoid like the way I ignore fashion.

It's the effect of age that no therapy or spa or plastic surgery can mask. It seems to have its own world of fundamental rights, and its right to be present in everyone's life is undeniable. I can see that things will swell from here, and I must admit that there is a certain amount of excitement, that real adult life is now mine.

I pride in buying green peas at five rupees lesser than the colleague who sits across my table, and yet every morning the thought of fixing breakfast and lunch exerts more pressure on me than finishing an assignment at work. It's evolution I think and it's natural.