Onwards towards regrets

Heat waves

Spiral in the sun

Red clouds

Come undone

Sea of sand

Oceans in still life

Change without changing

Move in all directions

The past in your head 

The future in your hands

The life you left behind 

Pushing you onward 

-- Jason Eisenmenger 'Mojave'

Whether it is the fear of history repeating itself that drives you, or running away from the past or even the determination to 'never go hungry again'; the past is always present in our future. Take That sang about never forgetting where they're coming from and Beyonce sang what goes around, comes back around. Whatever genre of music tickles your fancy, the past is always too much with us.

There are these constant struggles within when my memories threaten to become my reality and I have to shake my head in an attempt to reboot. Sometimes this works, the other times I have to shake some more or shut down for a while. I don't want to be the irresponsible girl anymore. I want to grow up, have consequences, be answerable, take control and have regrets because of the decisions I have made.

They say the best life is one without regrets & I've always been proud of never having a single one. But on the flip side is the fact that regrets happen because you took firm control of your life and dictated terms. Don't regret usually stem from the fact that you stood up for your convictions and didn't get the best outcome? Atleast you stood for something, even if it was during a movie and everyone was yelling at you to sit down again.

I have always made decisions thinking that if I don't do this or that, I will regret it in the future. But now, I am beginning to see the idea of short-term regrets and long-term payoffs. I refuse to just let go of my past, I want to carry those experiences and regrets with me as I try and mould my own future. I know in the bigger scheme of things, one human life is hardly worth a footnote, but it is the story of my life. I want to make sure that I do the very best with it, because who else will? 

I know these foot prints I leave behind are in a sea of sand but atleast I will always knew they existed.

Plus size or plus one

I think I'm a good catch. I'm intelligent, well-read, interesting with a good job and am even mildly well-adjusted. And I know the answer to the most inane and arcane trivia. I mean I would be the friend everyone calls during the phone-a-friend hint of who wants to be a millionaire. But what I'm not is happy with the way I look. I say that with an air of not caring when I distinctly do care.

What am I doing about it? Nothing. And as I continue doing nothing, I also continue to feel that my real life (as it could be) may be passing me by. But reality seems to be just out of reach. I feel like I'm a toxic and potent combination of pickiness, high standards & low will power. I also have a lot of second hand experience with relationships all around me that go nowhere really fast.

Everyone around me is having babies or getting married or crying about how horrible it is to be single or going out with just anyone because they really don't want to be alone. This is my every day. I see the death of hope and the rise of cynicism all around me. But there is always a kernel of hope that stays alive somewhere in the depths of every heart. I know there is one in mine.

I see the world move around me as I stand still like in a video montage. Going out and actually being a part of life feels insurmountable and sometimes it doesn't even feel like its worth the trouble. I see the drama, the misery, the constant pull and tug of people who want more but won't give enough; the hurt of broken expectations and the despair of not being able to let go.

But then there is the rare occasion where I see the magic that sparks into life when you see two people who are everything that people write songs and poetry about. Everything that people look for in the eyes of their casual date or - in my case - in the eyes of anyone interesting who can hold up a sustained and intelligent conversation. Yes, that's how low (or high) my bar is; but as I grow up I notice that intelligent men are a very rare species. Also, men get intimidated by super women or slightly intelligent women and the ones who don't, get snapped up immediately by women who (wisely) refuse to let go.

Is love worth all this trouble & strife? But is that really a question at all considering I am writing about it at 3.49 am?

Land of wishful thinking

We were never rich but my parents worked very hard to make sure we were never left without. There was one thing I always envied though, friends who talked about uncles living abroad; uncles who sent them shiny gifts & yummy chocolates. Oh, how cool these mythical uncles were. I had no such uncle & therefore decided I would do the living abroad myself.

Moving to Dubai was a decision I took about six months to work on; with the help of my friends, then boyfriend & family. I think my main reason to move was that I really wanted to push myself into something I always wanted to do but didn't quite know how. I felt like I was in a lather, rinse, repeat cycle of neverending ennui (I've always wanted to use that word!!)

So here I was in a city that was caught between trying to please both the modernists & the traditionalists & never really pleasing either. From what I could see then, the only thing lacking in Dubai was the concept of lack itself. Nobody seemed okay with not having things. Everybody wanted everything. In an immediate world like this, wanting to hold on for something real & lasting seemed wrong. I was happy being wrong then & am pretty happy being in the wrong for now.

Now that I've been around here for a while, this city is surreal to say the least; from dolls wearing abayas to brunches where parents get drunk in the afternoon with kids next to them. From guys who stay in little rooms but spend their credit limit on D&G shoes to ladies who find the love of their life in a rich, old guy who has no one else.

Dubai is a personification of every high school movie. There are the jocks, the nerds, the cheerleaders, the bullies & the bullied. And oh, let me not forget the cliques. Finding your way through the maze of clichés & questionable ethics & subjective morality changes the person you are.

I am not the same person I was 3 years ago. I am angrier, cynical, jaded & a bit more antisocial. But I have been luckier than many here. I found my sanity in some people who tolerated all my craziness & still didn't let go. They held on through my dark spirals & through my ecstatic highs. It was only because of them that I stuck around & now that I have been given the gift of an actual career, this city is now my home.

A home that is built on a flimsy, sandy foundation of expat friends who have made temporary homes here & can leave at any time. I have said my goodbyes & farewells to a fair share of lovely people. Thankfully, I can easily stay in touch with them. But nothing really prepares you for how intensely you can miss someone when they move away. It is completely different from "breakup feelings" because you never really broke up with that person. You still care about them but had to helplessly let go while they made a better decision for their lives. Is this what the empty nest syndrome feels like?

I need to get started

It started with my sister. She loved/loves reading. I remember seeing her spending her time with her book, ignoring her pesky, much-younger sister & feeling very jealous. I think she started giving me books to read just so I would shut up & stop bothering her. It worked.

I could & would read everything & anything I could find. I remember spending one day during my summer holidays without eating or drinking anything because I was reading a mythology book I'd been able to beg my father to buy. It was an amazing book but I digress.

I have always been an average girl, not too smart, not too pretty, without any significant passions or talents. But with a book in my hand, I was a traveller, an explorer, an adventurer. I had answers to all of life's questions & if I didn't, I could conjure them up from my imagination.

I made very few friends & my own insecurities never let me get too close to them. It was to my books & my dog that I turned to for company. It wasn't a exciting life but it was a simple, happy one. Books gave me dreams & the imagination to hope my dreams would come true one day.

I started off working with books; it was the only thing I could think of doing. It was what I knew (or thought I knew.) I learnt from some of the best in the business. Sanjeev Poojari, who hated the business side of bookstores but had the product knowledge of a bookworm elephant; Sang Mo, a small bundle of energy & go-go-go attitude & Sriram, someone who is still considered the father of modern Indian book retailing.

I briefly flirted with content development & journalism only to come back to square one but on a different board. I was in Dubai, working with books again, starting in Operations, making my way through merchandising & purchasing & eventually landing in sales.

I think this one will stick, I am going to make it stick somehow. Along the way, I intend to write. Maybe about myself, the books I read & the places I get to see. No bells & whistles, no fancy artistry. Just my words, an amalgamation of things I have seen, read & experienced all put together with some spit, glue & a prayer. Hopefully, someone will read it & even more hopefully, they won't completely hate it.

Much love