Shut up ! I’m NOT a grown up… yet.

Sunday morning. Hair tied up in a messy bun. Soft bollywood music plays on my phone, while I knead the dough. For some reason, my best friend loves the taste of parathas I make. I serve her hot with cardamom tea in that ‘Princess’ mug my parents bought me, along with a lot of other stuff, when I moved into my first flat. It’s been 7 months now. And it has almost become our weekend tradition. “You know you’re like my mom to me, here. Treating me with such homely breakfast.”, she jokes. I don’t like to cook. Wait. Understatement. I hate it. She says I’m getting ‘experienced’ at this. “Experienced? You mean like a grown up?”

Fast forward an hour. I pick up my phone. My gallery is full of pictures from last night. Instagram stories I don’t remember posting. Looks like I had a lot of fun. Some 400 people now believe that my life’s a party. Great! They should. I deserve one night of fun after a week’s drudgery. I have worked hard to get here. I am working hard to get further. They can not know how I struggle ‘IRL’. Sorry, I use such short forms. I’m a millennial. And we don’t have time. Oh and, we live through screens. Shh… we are not allowed to share how we are IRL. But what does it matter, anyway? Screen or no screen, isn’t putting up a smiling face at all times, means being a grown up? Does it mean I am one now?

It’s Monday now. I get out of my bed to prepare my own breakfast. Oh how I miss my mom right now. I reach my work place, settle down in my seat and watch the day turn from morning to night through the clock at the front wall. I have almost forgotten what afternoons look like. I do not see that scorching sun I used to curse an year ago, anymore. I do not see those driving rains I would often get drenched in, anymore. I miss them now. But seriously, who cares as long as I’m making big bucks? Isn’t that all a grown up should care about? Wait. Am I thinking like a grown up now?

It’s Wednesday today. Middle of the week. Clients after clients. Calls after calls. I’m so busy, I can not afford to think about anything else. Except, when it hits me. “Shit! Did I turn off my straightening iron before leaving?” Or, “I can’t remember, if I closed the door to balcony.” What if I burn my flat down? What if someone climbs through the balcony. To think , things as little as those. Yet so scary. Unending anxiety and paranoia has become a part of my life. “No space for mistakes”, they say.
I’m sorry I’ve never lived all by myself before. This is my first time. And I’m scared. DON’T SAY THAT! No one must know. Just keep pretending to be perfect.
Just keep acting like a grown up.

It’s friday now. Long weekend. How I’ve waited for it for so long. I’m home now. Long way from the disguised reality. Long way from that stupid trepidation. The good part is that I do not have to fake smile any more. The better part is that I can rant about it while my dad patiently listens. Look at me. I’m back to being that whiny kid. A few minutes later, I get a text. I forget everything, put on my flip flops and run off, without thinking once about the stupid doors. Apparently, all these years later, “same place, same coffee” still means a thing. There are no instagram stories of it. No 120 pictures. Those 400 people do not know this. But here and now, life is good. It’s going to be a few hours, until I come home. And it’s going to be a few hours while I watch the sky turn from blue to crimson to jet black. I love it. When I do finally return, I can smell dinner from a distance. PARATHE !! One bite and  I recall …..this is what ‘experience’ tastes like.

Nope! Defintely not ‘experienced’. Nope! Definitely not a grownup.
I’m on my way. But I’m not there yet. And I’m desperately holding on to what little of my childhood’s left. Desperately scrounging for the leftover bits of it. All while the weekend lasts. Before I go back to my pretenses.

-SR


Just a little compilation of bits and pieces taken from my journal entries, written back in November – December 2017. Been sitting in my drafts since January, only seeing the light of the day now, because I’m jusssssst………….. lazy like that.

Wholeheartedly dedicated to all 20-somethings, beating the struggle alone everyday, and working hard to build a life.

 

 

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Me Talk Pretty One Day

41-8iDnSsvL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_It’s been long since I’ve done any book reviews, so I guess it’s about time I did one.

I’m picking this book by David Sedaris , which is a collection of essays based on his own life experiences. I generally write about books, which either fall in the category of Oh-you-CANNOT-afford-to-miss-this-one-out books or FGS-my-4am-assignments-are-better-than-this books. This one falls in neither of those categories. It’s perfectly average and the judgement of humor quotient may vary depending on your taste.

Sylvia Plath once said, ” Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise.” For me, this book was exactly one of those. No war story, no crimes, no heartbreaks, no life struggles, no fantasies. It’s just a book telling ordinary stories about super ordinary life, only with some comical touches.
For starters, since it is a “collection of essays”, it did not have to carry the weight of being ‘organized’. It did not necessarily have to put forward a story per se , about the writer’s life. So it takes the full liberty of going from “that one time I taught a writing workshop” to “that one time my cat died” to “that one time I was travelling in Paris and this American couple took me for a pickpocketer” to “that one time I got my IQ checked”. It’s just all random like that.

Despite that, Sedaris did get me laughing a lot of times. His writing is witty, sarcastic and fairly hilarious most of the time. But since it is non-fictional, it may leave an impression of Sedaris looking down on others, while viewing himself as the most important person around. More often than not, I found myself thinking “Oh God, this guy’s got his head in the clouds.” But as long as he keeps you engaged in his impractical fantasies and melodramatic family and work episodes, it’s all fine.

For the past one year, I’ve read some really intense books. This book was sort of a quick light refresh from those stories. If you are looking for something short and something quirky and funny too, then this is the one.

 

20 Days

I often go back to the time
When we sat on the staircase outside late one spring night,
When I threw my bitter resentments at you,
My despondency wrapped in I-hate-you’s.
But you hung on my acidic words,
Promising to make things right.
Do you remember, when we had our last 20 days ahead of us?
Do you remember your heartening words?

I often go back to the time,
Of our inhibited talks.
Your festering fears.
My profound apprehensions.
Our little ice cream walks.
Do you remember those casual saunters?
If only they lasted a little bit longer.

I often go back to the time,
When you took my hand,
And waltzed me around.
When everything else,
Evanesced in the background
A moment which passed before I could savor it.
Do you remember that song
Which suddenly became my favorite?

Oh how it killed me to watch it all fade,
But all I had,
Were those last 20 days.
Until you decided
To drop the masquerade.

-SR

Life Lately …

Life lately has been pretty much upside down with all the Stranger Things happening around, but I’ve gotten used to it.
Was that a pretty pathetic attempt at being funny while opening a blog post , which has been due for an year? …. Okay I get it… you don’t need to answer that!

I see my last post here and I see 22 year old me trying to be all wise and smart and, 23 year old me , right now, is just cringing so hard. But damn that girl was wiser than me, whatever happened to her.

An year later now, I’m out of college, leading a cliched “big-city-big-job-lonely-life” and feeling terrible exhausted, and bored. Good news , I’ve saved up enough money now to make a pilgrimage to holy land of London and see with my own mortal eyes , the holy world of Harry Potter aka WB Studio in all its glory. Bad news, I can not afford to take any leaves from work. Oh yess!! Saddest situation ever!! Plus, my mum wouldn’t let me go alone so…   (I’m just going to ponder on for a while about which excuse sounds sadder than the other)
Anyway, so I was saying … life here is killing me. I remember during my last few days at college, I was starting to get mixed feelings. Of course I was upset, but there was some part of me which constantly screamed NO ASSIGNMENTS NO EXAMS, and that just got me ‘elated’, every single time. And 3 months after that, I forgot what that word felt like. Life has become a constant cycle of work-eat-sleep-repeat and I’m just spinning with it. And not to sound very sentimental and cry-ey about it, most of the time I just pass it with a ‘K Whatever attitude‘ , except on a few days when I come back a bit late from work and I can smell something good cooking while walking past every damn house/flat in my society and I reach my place, stuff my face with cold bread and butter and cry myself to sleep on those nights.
Actually , no that’s not true, I’m just being over dramatic, but you get my point, right? For twenty two years , I’ve lived surrounded with people, and suddenly there’s so much peace and quiet in my life that I just find hard to digest sometimes. (TBH, being an introvert helps a lot but not always). So, to solve that problem, I signed up on some extra courses, and long story short , it’s just more assignments and work life + student life going hand in hand. I don’t know which one I’m doing part time.

But anyway, it’s not sad all the time. I mean I don’t have to think twice anymore if I want to buy something and I get that feeling of being independent, which I just love waking up to everyday.  I’ve also learned to cook a lot of things. And while, I’m still struggling to be a pro at adulting, one thing I’ve definitely learned is to NOT care about people or silly things a lot. Oh wait, is that me throwing shade at someone/something? Or am I just being dramatic again? Hmm…

So that’s enough about career. Moving on, how can I not mention? BOOKS!!
I haven’t read a lot lately, but ALONE IN BERLIN by HANS FALLADA? Man, that book gave me chills. That’s another addition to my favorite Nazi themed novels. Just a fun fact, this masterpiece was written in 22 days. 22 DAYS!?!?!! I mean you really really have to read it to know how good it is. If you’re into reading, better get your hands on it ASAP! If you’re not, well… you have my sympathy.
I’m also trying to finish Cosmos by Carl Sagan and Made In America by Bill Bryson, since foreverrr, but something about non-fiction, it just takes me soooo long!! Oh and I also finally read Catch-22, and I know I’m so late to the club, BUT WHAT A FIVE STAR BOOK THOUGH! *Tosses it on my pile of favorite books*. There might be around 10 , maybe 12, books more, but I can’t think of anything to specially mention.

I can’t think of anything to add more now.
I would tell you about the time when I cut my feet with glass and just went to sleep leaving it bleeding like that because I’m clumsy and ignorant like that (Ha! Talk about adulting), or maybe that time when I felt so heartbroken for Cassini, a spacecraft’s, self destruction that I ranted about its ‘suicide’ for half an hour over call to my brother because I become an emotional mess sometimes, but those stories are much too random and much too long to accommodate in this post. So much… SO MUCH has happened in this past one year, that I just can’t pick my favorite stories to tell. Should I mention those about my travels, or about my work or all the random batshit crazy experiences I’ve had? *pulls out my 2017 journal, looks at the number of pages, keeps it back*. Maybe some other time guys. I’m just going to end this here.
And I’ll leave you with a song I’m listening to right now…

Have a good night/day, if you’re reading this.

Later,
Srishti

 

Walking Mundanity

Summer 2016, Sunday morning, 11:00 am, forget about the whole post, I’m still stuck thinking about what my next line would be. Because hey, walking mundanity, that is my life. And I friggin’ love it!

Straight out of the first year of MBA, or what I like to call, the grinding year, that sucked my soul like an ugly dementor. Not that dementors are beautiful, anyway, and definitely not kissable… but you get the point, right? So here I landed in apparently, one-of-the-most-happening-cities of my country, as the children these days call it (What can I say, I’m an old soul), for my internship. And I don’t challenge that title because it is the most happening, if 1. you like trekking (which is not possible in this season unless you wear a fire proximity suit… but that would be really uncomfortable to go trekking in, I reckon) or 2. if you like to drink. A lot. Which is something that doesn’t interest me. But despite that, I’m loving it here SO MUCH!

One, I’m alone. Two, I’M ALONE!
I mean I’ve never been this independent in my entire life. Sure, it gets boring sometimes. And I’ve had my fair share of I-want-to-go-home moments. But then, these are the two months which I’ll never forget. If you’ve still not understood why I’m so happy with my life here, I’ll set a scene for you. Books, loads of food OF MY CHOICE, HELL LOT OF SLEEP, aimlessly roaming around the city, hours of binge watching,  hours of uninterrupted day dreaming, and…the best thing.. there’s no one to question. Oh and internship? Well, it’s all good. Demands me to work only about 12-15 hours a week, that too on a field job in marketing. So much exposure and so much learning in such few hours. I couldn’t ask for more. This is perfect.

So long-story-short, I’m having the time of my life here. Which is soon going to end, in about half a month. And I’m trying to make the most of every single day. Books to finish, places to visit, restaurants to dine in, TV shows to watch and shop , shop, shop , before it’s all over and I’m once again caught up in the busy life of assignments and tests.

So that’s all about what I’ve lately been up to.

Stay tuned for some book reviews, maybe some artworks, and random rants about random stuff.

Later,
Srishti