Re: Matrimony

Its a topic I've been giving a lot of thought to, lately.
Not so much matrimony in its general sense.
Rather, my own, or more accurately, the possibilities
in/of that route.
A number of reasons for my thinking about marriage.
My mom visited for a month-it made relatives and friends
there and here wonder if my wedding was the reason (not).

I turned 29 this month, and from some improbable,
hitherto unknown crevice, a clock has begun ticking.
No, not the biological one-
I am as intent now as I was half my life ago,
About not reproducing.
Much as I love kids, I don't feel the need to bring more into this world. Its not such a wonderful place, imo, and if the urge to be a mother overtakes me, there are plenty of children out there who need parents, who have been abandoned or orphaned.

Rather, it is a settle down tick-tock,
Urging me to ground myself and find an anchor.
I have been a nomad for all of my 20s,
Beginning the journey at 18, when I came away
for college.
Finding myself still searching, still unsure,
Very much without roots,
As I approach the milestone of 30,
Gives me pause.

I guess somewhere along the way,
In childhood and later,
I absorbed that cultural/societal notion,
That one should be settled by 30,
Whatever "settled" means.
When I was younger I had not the slightest interest
in marrying.
In the last three or so years its become more
of a possibility,
Rather than the immediate rejection it brought to mind.
But I am also beginning to realize that
I never really expected to still be single at 29 going on 30.
I should rephrase that-not single as in unmarried,
But rather single as in without a significant other.

I am also owning up to the fact that the past few months,
I have completely stagnated.
Drawing out my current life
For no good reason,
Other than ennui and unwillingness to take the next step.
That next step being unknown or at the very least,
Risky and filled with hurdles, has not helped
my indecision.

So, when my mother brought up someone as a prospect for me,
It was both a shock and an almost welcome intrusion.
A shock 'cause I never thought my family would try to set me up.
Not really.
Yet welcome because this would solve some of my quandaries.
I would not have to figure out that scary next step.
No more wondering about where to go, what to do.
PhD? Job? India? US? Australia?
No, those decisions would be made.
I'd gain stability,
And the ability to remain exactly where I am now.
A place I love, and where near and dear ones live.

However, the truth is that this is just talk.
Between the "elders," as it were.
There is nothing to indicate that either this man or I,
Have any interest in one another.
It could be nothing more than the fond wish of parents
and grandparents.
Lets face it,
I am not the kind of person who says sure lets do it.
I would want to get to know this person,
Find out if we are compatible,
And can work as a couple.
I am not mercenary enough to enter into marriage
To solve my dilemmas or just to find a rock.

But the very fact that I am so open to traveling
this route,
Shows me how much I have changed,
And also that I am tired.
Tired of continuously fighting to stay,
Having to defend and calculate each decision.
Tired of bearing the weight on my broad shoulders.
Wishing for some companionship and warmth,
That I did not have to fight for,
Or generate through my own efforts.
What I need the most, it seems,
Is that someone in my corner.
And not just anyone,
But a mate, a life partner.

Whether I will find one,
Here, There, or Anywhere,
Is open ended.
The man my family wants me to consider.
The one from my past who demands consideration,
But cannot promise fulfillment.
Or perhaps a third and thus far unknown quantity?
Only time, patience, and continuing to tread,
One foot in front of the other,
Will likely tell.

Still, in the meanwhile,
So that I don't have unrealistic expectations,
Or set myself up for too much disappointment,
I am making my own map.
One that does not include marriage or men.

Write that thesis and graduate.
Take the year off from academia and working.
Travel and see the world,
Or at least parts of it.
I love to travel, I enjoy new places.
Yet I have done very little adventuring this century.
I have a little money,
Enough to take me a few good places and spaces.

Come on, I'm not quite 30!
If I don't do it now,
When again will I get the chance?
Life, work, things will get in the way.
Getting a year off is no easy task.
I don't have to save yet-I should spend what I have.
And learn and explore and travel.

So, thus, my idea is to bring in the big 3-0,
Someplace new, and hopefully wonderful.
Perhaps with old friends, maybe with new.
The adventure in it is appealing.
I know that I will be safe enough,
And make friends.
I am just unattractive enough,
Yet intelligent and witty enough,
To make an interesting companion,
Someone people will talk to,
But not feel the need to hit on.

So then, its a grand scheme,
Something to look forward to,
A goal for 2009.
Maybe crazy but quite doable,
A way out of my current inertia.

Inspiration: Asparagus

A simple bundle of asparagus,
Bought because it was on sale.
And I did something I rarely do-
Cooked a couple meals for myself.

Those who know me well,
Will attest to the fact that I am an unwilling chef.
I don't really hate cooking,
And I am definitely not bad at it when I try my hand.
I don't love it though...
It is not to me a creative outlet like others I know.

Mostly, I just don't see the point in making all that effort,
And taking the trouble to prepare dinner for one.
Its easier, quicker, more efficient,
To exist on frozen dinners and takeout.
Than deal with the mound of dishes and clean-up,
Not to mention expended energy and thought,
That preparing a meal requires.

But I have been trying to eat home more often,
And not just by subsisting on ready to eat meals,
But occasionally making the effort to cook for myself.
So, a dinner of pasta with the asparagus worked out really well.

The sauce was an invention-based on the ingredients in my fridge,
And the vagaries of my taste buds.
Not spicy enough-okay, lets add some hot sauce.
Not quite the right texture-a spoonful of soy sauce.
And so on.
The lack of mushrooms in my pantry was sad,
But I made do, and my meal was excellent and satisfying.

Simple as such. But it took time to make.
There were veggies to chop.
Dishes/utensils/implements to wash.
But I actually did derive some pleasure from the process,
And I don't mean just the eating.
A sense of satisfaction and achievement lingered,
Long after I had made and consumed my meal.
I surely will not do it every night.
But I will no longer scoff at those who extol the virtues of cooking either!

Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered Am I.
An old standard, a song covered by numerous great singers over the years.
A song that has been running through my head, the last couple months.
Countless other songs apply-a lot of Abba, especially given my repeated watching of the new movie Mamma Mia!
Pierce Brosnan and Meryl Streep in "Winner Takes it All"
Reduced me to tears.
Each element separately was powerful enough...
That song has always been a tear-jerker;
Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan epitomize the one major love affair of my life to date.
(I never imagined that my favorite actor and one of the greatest actresses of my time would essay roles that I see as close to my reality!
But hey, not a bad way to go, surely).

I have been spiraling into a situation I have no right to.
But this is the one person I could never deny.
To be told I am "the one" is gratifying.
Still, there are soo many complications:
Taboos, Entanglements, Emotions, Worries...
That I am more than a little scared of where its going,
Not to mention how its going to turn out.

It has a feeling of inevitability--years in the making,
And with more years ahead before it may come to fruition, if at all.
Despite conflicting emotions and partial guilt,
I am not able/willing/capable of shutting the door.
Instead, I am just taking things as they come...
And praying really hard that I don't get hurt (once again).

PS: Too late for that-I have been hurt once again, because I fell for the BS once again.
But the same feeling of inevitability that came along with the rekindling of the relationship,
Tags along at this most recent demise of it. That too, has not changed. Just like the man,
Has not, Will not, Can Not.

Starbucks Sellout

That is what I am, sadly.
I, who don't drink coffee (really intense, unpleasant smell and taste),
Who for years mocked the conglomerate corporation.
Over-priced, mediocre stuff, I would sniff impatiently.
Their super-pretentious names for drinks, and their grandiose and confusing sizes.
"Tall, Grande, Venti" - Huh??!!
Made me roll my eyes n mock some more.
Don't like their hot chocolate, their coffees obviously hold no appeal.

Given their proliferation, especially here in California,
I suppose it was inevitable that I would eventually fold.
There are three different Starbucks on campus alone!
So, sure it began with my getting the occasional Tazo tea there,
Or a half-price sandwich in the last hour of their being open,
As I am on break from one of my three hour long night classes.
Then, it slowly escalated.

Last winter, I got a $25 Starbucks giftcard for Xmas.
So I found myself slowly using it up, buying a box of tea, a chocolate cupcake.
On a cold (ish) day-this is Southern California, after all!
I would get their Hot Caramel Apple Spice-just the ticket.
Then a friend recently introduced me to the joys
Of Starbucks' Chai Lattes.
Uh-oh!
Not a fan of them hot, but pour it on ice, and I'm in heaven.
A caffeine and sugar laced high...a sensory pleasure for my taste buds,
And just what I need as a pick-me-up on a hot and/or sluggish-brain day.

On vacation last week, I finally realized-I no longer am a casual Starbucks-er.
I have now ventured into the land of the addicted!
Okay-so the itch is not that bad-I don't need daily hookups or, god forbid, multiple daily iced chai lattes.
Yet, at least a couple (okay, so its more like three) times a week,
I now find myself giving in to the hankering.
Not just getting one as I walk past a Starbucks (that is auto-suggestion, after all).
But actually going in search of the nearest Starbucks,
Like starting my afternoon visitation of old haunts in Longmeadow at the Longmeadow Shops Starbucks.
And worst of all--ah its painful to even admit.
I have the language down pat.

No more staring in puzzlement at the board,
Squinting myopically as I attempted to find a non-coffee laced drink,
When I was feeling more adventurous than just ordering Earl Grey Tea (my standard).

On Saturday,
As I waited for my glasses to get fixed in La Jolla,
The craving for an Iced Chai hit, and off I went,
To the Vons Supermarket, knowing that would be the closest Starbucks spot.
I circled the lot three times
Until I finally managed to grab a spot as someone pulled out.
Walking confidently up to the Starbucks counter, without even a moment's hesitation,
I asked for my fix: "Grande Iced Chai Latte, Light Ice, please."
And that, gals 'n' boys,
Was when I realized that I was a Starbucks Sellout!

PS: Dammit, and now I want one-no, its midnight and I am NOT giving in. But tomorrow is, as they say, another day ;-)

Of Fears and the Future

I am feeling off balance, the last couple days.
There are a number of reasons, I know this.
For one, I anxiously await my thesis chair's response.
I hope she agrees-I really want to work on the topic I chose.
Yet I know that once she gives me her approval,
I have two months to get things done.
I thought I had until November, but she wants it done by September.
A very tall order, but something I need to do.
So there is the fear of failing, not getting it done on time, etc.

This will signify the end of a journey as well.
That is part of the angst...
My MA will be complete. Thesis done, I will be ready to graduate in December.
What comes after is both exciting and really scary.
I will have to leave the cocoon I have made for myself here.
I will have to go back to my home country.
A place I have not lived in since I was 17,
Nor visited in 7 years.

I am told a lot has changed, that I will be pleasantly surprised.
That opportunities abound for someone like me.
Yet I distinctly remember how much I wanted to leave.
I never felt like I fit it, I was always an oddity.
Now, after eleven plus years away, how can I possibly hope to assimilate?
I have gotten used to my independence, my privacy, my invisibility.
All things I will lose the moment I am back on home turf.

Coming to college in a new country was an adventure at 18.
Returning to my homeland at 29 feels less so.
I know I cannot live with my parents long-term.
I will need to find a place to live, a job, re-introduce myself socially.
I know I will have the support of my parents and friends.
Yet, at the end of the day it will be my burden to bear.
My issues and culture shock that no one else will quite get.
My appearance, mannerisms, language, viewpoint...
Will all place me as the "other,"
More so than when I was growing up and lived there.
The eleven years away will have increased, not decreased, my alien-ness.

My parents are middle-aged now, and I want to be nearer them.
It doesn't feel right that I have not seen them in four years.
Yet I know we will drive each other crazy.
That I will become a snarling, emotional, bitchy mess around them.
But I also need to see them, be closer to them.

Mentally, I had been placating myself with the idea that it will be a vacation.
Six months of hanging out with friends, traveling around the country, being free,
Of responsibility and real worries. A break such as I have not had in...11 years!
I figured I would drag my best friend around with me...come to Singapore, come to Rajasthan, lets play and catch up, I would say, and she would agree, the only one of my acquaintance with the ability, or indeed the only person I could imagine,
As companion for such adventures.

Yet her announcement that she is getting married,
Made me realize that it is a foolish, unrealistic dream I am harboring.
She is a dear, but she will no longer be fancy-free,
a willing fellow adventurer for madcap schemes.
She will, rather, be someone's wife. He will have priority for her, as well he should!

And worst of all-she will get married and I won't be there...
in all the years away,
despite all the events and weddings I have missed,
Hers is the one that I always expected to be there for.
It never occurred to me that I would not be able.
The only one at which my absence will hurt me deeply.
The other times, it felt like I was missing out on fun and memories.
This time, its like forgoing a part of my life.
After all, she is the sister I never had.

I am excited and thrilled that she has found that person-the one she cannot live without, 'cause as we always said: marry someone because you cannot live without him, not because you can live with him.
In the years since I last saw her, she has matured and grown into a woman I admire and adore.
She surprises me with her depth and strength,
Of mind and character.
I want her to have every happiness, she deserves nothing less.
She has lived a charmed life, one I hope lasts always.

I can only hope that some day I will be similarly lucky,
Will find someone with whom I will want to share my life.
Not sure it will happen-the older I get the more I realize
That perhaps that is not the destination for me.
I have become a hermit of sorts, not dabbling in love/romance.
Prior experiences have made me wary-I have been hurt too many times.
But I will continue to hold on to hope.
After all, I consider myself an optimist...

I'll plan for things going right in the next year,
On my not failing.
I will get my thesis done.
I will find my place in my birth country.
I will be able to get acceptance to a Phd program I want.
I will get a visa to come back here.
And finally, everything will work out.
I believe, I believe...
In the power of positive thinking.
I better, or else I may never recover
From the despair and fears,
Of loneliness, failure, unhappiness...

Great Expectations?

I learned very early in life not to expect what I am trying to get - but only hope to get it, and do everything in my power to do so. Unfortunately, I have not been able to apply the same principle to my relationships. The first time around, I expected nothing, but made the mistake of not trying to get what I wanted either, and ended up giving a lot more than I got. It was passive acceptance, and I was grateful for every little joy. Not a bad thing in itself, until you realise that not trying to get what you want just makes the other person take you for granted. Not to mention that *just giving* is emotionally draining.

In the last one it was kind of the opposite - I expected a lot, yet did nothing to try and get it. Nor did I give anything I wasn't getting. I wouldn't say I was the only one with expectations in the relationship, or even the one with more expectations. But it doesn't matter. The point is, to get something you have to give something first, and I failed to do that.

Now, I know this is sounding contradictory. But it's not. All I'm saying is - give your best, but don't expect anything in return; try getting what you want, but don't expect it. And when you do get it, appreciate it. What you do when you don't depends on how critical it is to your happiness. And this is where the lack of expectation becomes most important - because when you expect too much, even getting more than enough can look like way too little.

Thank you M. Snail

Each week, on hump day, otherwise known as Wednesday,
I have a babysitting gig.
I endeavor to entertain a three year old while his mother is in class.
I love kids, I am a good babysitter, and I know this little one quite well (I have been watching him since soon after his first birthday).
Yet, attempting to keep him entertained, not screaming or being disruptive,
And often having to run behind him ad nauseum make me dread Wednesday evenings.
Its not easy, babysitting on campus, rain or shine, light or dark.
The end of daylight savings certainly helped save my sanity.
But today, I had help from a most unexpected quarter.
A little snail, minding its own business, curled into its shell.
My ever observant charge noticed the creature on the stairs.
What was potentially a few minutes entertainment turned into an hour and a half of pleasurable encounter with Monsieur/Madame Escargot.
Good thing I am not squeamish, and have my own inner child fueled fascination with snails.
I was happy to pick the reclusive creature off the corner of the steps
Where it had attached itself,
And place it gently in a place where the tyke and I could prod it into action,
Observe its captivating coiling and uncoiling of itself from its shell,
Tiny wispy tentacles poking out first, followed by the rest of its head,
And finally, its thick tail.
My little buddy and I both enjoyed the show, and if I had not finally
taken mercy on the creature and let it makes its unhurried way into the
bushes without further interruption, I think the amusement would have
lasted longer still.
So once again,
Thank you Mr./Ms. Snail for coming to this stressed babysitter's rescue...

Music, Memories, Melancholy

I have spent the better part of the last two hours online.
Not doing anything terribly useful.
But rather, YouTube has provided me
With songs and sights
From old Hindi movies.
"Classics" most of them get called.
I don't quite know what it is about hearing those old songs and seeing
the picturizations, that is making me so sad.
I definitely go through bouts of missing my homeland.
And frivolous as it sounds, my strongest ties seem to come to the surface via music.
Especially the songs from Bollywood movies of the 1950s and 1960s.
I am twenty eight years old-these songs are waaay before my time.
But they are the ones that reel me in.
Mukesh, Kishore, Rafi, Lata, Geeta Dutt, Shamshad Begam...
Those are the voices that stay in my head..
Those songs are unbeatable and haunting.
Some happy and playful, others sad.
One and all bring tears to my eyes.
Seeing Dev Anand chasing Shakila or chastising Sadhana in a song,
Watching Nargis and Raj Kapoor.
Johnny Walker even.
Many others, unknown or forgotten now.
They all make me cry.
And I wonder why?
Is it because they are just that strong link to my childhood?
Songs heard in the background when my mother played them?
Or memories of movies she and I saw?
And we saw some really obscure ones, I'll admit!
Those times spent in movie watching and song listening/singing,
Are some of my fondest memories.
Maybe its just hearing those melodies and voices?
Those lyrics full of dard (hurt is the literal translation, but it does not come across in English) or of such intense romanticism (there is no way to explain it in English-they would just be corny).
Having gone through the songs from movies like CID, Asli Naqli, Aag.
One particular song, Chandan Sa Badan, from Saraswati Chandra has
particular meaning for me.
I do expect to feel a pang and maybe even cry when I hear it.
It has the most amazing lyrics, and is sexy and suggestive in a way
that should be admired for a song so old and in a time of strong censorship.
Things are merely alluded to, as with many other songs from that era.
But its the fact that someone once told me that was the song he thought of me with,
That makes me sad when I listen to it now.
"Tun bhi sundar, Mun bhi sundar,"
"Tu sundarita ki muurath hai."
Wow, that I was ever thus elevated!
I guess my love and emotionality regarding the oldies also has to do with my own (very hidden) romantic streak.
I know love is not like the movies, and definitely not like these old Hindi songs.
But those lyrics still get me.
If someone felt about me the way those songs say, I think I'd die happy.
But I know its unlikely and highly implausible.
And perhaps, that, is why I cry...