Change, She Did Not

I thought it would change my life.
I thought it would make me more docile.
I thought I would be more accepting and forgiving.
I thought I would be like the ones with a calm head over their shoulder, carrying their stiff, starched organdy salwar kameez with a smug composure.
I thought I would love to act like a wife.

Obviously I thought wrong. I can’t even begin the beeping act :).

and I wrote

I have no clue as to what’s kept me off writing for so long. I kept repeating some lame excuses to people who bothered to ask me about my blog. Some of them to do with toop much work, some of them do to with too little time, most of them to do with marriage. ‘I’m married. Now things are different.’ How different? Nobody bothered to ask. Why will they? Most everybody I know is content with a reason. Nobody wants to get into the dirty business of meddling into others business. A good thing I must say. I wouldn’t want to be bugged with, ‘But you need to make time for things you like Divya (have I used my name before?) and ‘Don’t let marriage bog you down. You go and write that book you’ve been wanting to pen.’ Considering I already have people to get my yet-unwritten book published, wonder what am I waiting for. Different issue that the selfless blokes have already claimed half of the royalty I get for the yet-unwritten book.

I wish just for once, only one time, I could stick to the thought I start off with. All I wanted to say to the little few who still glance through Processing Thoughts, was that the excuses were just that, excuses. There wasn’t an iota of fact in it. Are you saying that inane transcribing of videos (that thing I do that pays for my ginger tea) will keep from writing disconnected thoughts? Puhleasee! And I’m too much of an arrogant bitch to admit that a ‘husband’ can keep me from shooting my hands off. Especially a husband as paavam (or disinterested (10 months and I haven’t yet figured it out)) as mine.

I’ve managed two paragraphs. I’m sure I can take it up from here. Soon. I just hope the power cut doesn’t get in the way.

I will I will I will write…

...and they say marriage is bliss. I am not married yet and I feel like …never mind….let's not get there...but ya…I will I will I will write…

Just the way I'll meet my friends

Just the way I'll go to my library more often...

Just the way I'll read more often...

Just the way I'll watch good movies, more often...

Just the way I'll get to plan my weekends...

Just the way...oh there are so many things...

To begin with, I'll just write.

"You won't be the 'runaway bride', no?"

A random conversation, with an ex-classmate-cum-ex-colleague-cum'to-date-good-friend, is never as random and inane as one usually makes it look like.

Most of the things these people say, if you are in the habit of reading between the letters, say a lot about you. Each comment, each opinion, each gesture, each expression carries with it an entire baggage of all the time spent together, of all the lessons learnt the hard way, of all the caveats rendered subtlely .

So when one such friend, rather carefully asked, "D, you won't be a runaway bride, no?", I was slightly taken aback. I smiled, ia half-hearted manner, spoke about the weather, the new pain-in-the-wrong-place colleague and tehn when I thought enough time had passed by to make it look like just another casual question, I asked, "Oye, how come you said that?"

T: said what?

D (also, me): …that thing about not beinga runaway bride…

T: Oh that….well, it's nothing…

I didn't insist. But I'm sure she must have just thought that how come a wayward brat, (pampered goose is one of the many endearements showered on me by T) like D, somebody so to the point, somebody so reckless, so crass, settle down? Let's say this is one of D's hasty decisions, still what when she finally realises the baggage that she's agreed to be a aprt of is just more messy than her messed up self? MAybe she'll be the runaway bride.

Maybe not!!

What ifs and what if nots...

So what will happen to the backpacking to China and Ladakh and Leh and Italy and Andaman and Lakshadweep and some island or the other…?

What about learning Spanish and Italian?

What about learning Salsa?

What about learning to drive a four-wheel (OK, now that might be possible…)?

What about traveling far and wide… writing for Outlook-Traveller / India Today –Travel Plus?

What about making some exotic dishes from the exotic locales visited?

What about watching all those foreign films… trying to make sense of it…appreciating good sense / taste…swearing at the bad ones?

What about just staring into the oblivion without a possible purpose and not being labeled a 'pseudo' like some of those modern artistes?

What about waking up in the middle of the night just to make a cup of ginger tea, pick up a book, watch a movie and just not worry about who will think what?

What about just falling sick on a Friday / Monday and just going for a small trek to some obscure village in Maharshtra?

What about going to work in my pyjamas?

What about being at home in my pyjamas?

What about just chopping off the chopped of tresses?

What about not getting hurt when someone else gets hurt?

What about staying unaffected?

What about not affecting any one else?

What about not being responsible for anything?

What about late night conversations?

What about falling asleep during the late night conversations?

What about deep, profound discussions on threading being good for the skin as compared to waxing ( I still am not sure what's better…waxing for sure is less painful, relatively speaking) ?

What about all the 'What about's'?

P says it's not the end of life; it is just another life.

And I nodded, like I always do… almost always…!