Life has been unusually eventful these past few months. I switched jobs, cities and issues. Lost touch with childhood friends, started avoiding social gatherings, witnessed my kittens being murdered by a mean alley cat, lost interest in movies and my own dreams somewhere along the way. Met a couple of men who wanted to marry me and considered the option in all seriousness. My mind tried to convince me that I’m finally growing up.
It’s been several months since I’ve updated my blog. There are multiple reasons for that. The first is the sheer paucity of time. The second reason is the fact that I now write for a living.
Yes, my dream finally did come true. It all came together somehow. I work as the Associate Editor of an online tech magazine now. The work is good. I get paid for finding fault with people’s grammar and sentence construct now. I get to think. I get to write and learn. It’s wonderful but it does have its moments of doubt.
I met a man who I can imagine spending the rest of my life with. But that has its moments of doubt too. And it’s way too early to say.
The most important thing that happened, though, was that I stopped believing in fairy tales. And I made peace with the fact that there is no such thing as perfect happiness. It’s a flawed concept. Damn I sound grown up!
I think the most important question in life right now is whether I want to get married at all or not. I’m still in two minds about it all. Marriage scares me. Talks of commitment make me want to break out in a cold sweat.
I spend 5 days of my week alone in Delhi and 2 days in Chandigarh with the family. I sometimes feel so torn between the two that feelings of homelessness grip me in their cold embrace.
Detachment from people, in general, has become a way of life. They think I’m too “casual”. They are not wrong. I just don’t see why I should get worked up over every little thing that people say or do. And if I do, I don’t see why I should show it. People should deal with the fact that I’m not an overly-expressive, easily perturbed 20 year old girl anymore.
I just happen to have different priorities. And my first priority is to be happy with myself.
I will not get married if I don't fall hopelessly in love. I just doubt my ability to give or receive love now.
Singledom is not a choice I'm making. It's a calculated decision. I will not ruin my life and somebody else's by getting into something that's irrevocable.
My fairy tale needs to be rewritten. Since I'm writing my own story here, I will take the liberty to never ever let it become a bestseller. Because bestsellers are what the masses relate to. And I can't even relate to my own life here.
Here is why the story of my life will never become a bestselling work of non-fiction:
- As the main protagonist, I suck!
- The world is full of princes who turn into frogs the moment you kiss them. It's not a rare occurrence anymore. (I read the fairy tale backwards, the way it was supposed to be.)
- I'm way too average to be special.
- I have a terrible memory so I'm quite sure that I'm going to miss out on key events.
- Bestsellers have a lot of drama, sex and bitchy women in them. My life's drama is restricted to arguments with the landlord, I do not talk about sex because I am not Osho and have no intentions to be and the bitchiest woman in my life is, well, me.
- Every story has to have an ending and by the time my book gets published, the ending will have changed twice over.
- I'm not delusional about my life being "different" or "worth writing about."
- Twitter and Facebook know my life too well. The cat's already out of the bag...and sprawled over the internet.
- I'm just 29 years old. I haven't lived enough or seen enough to write about it. And I don't want to be just another Chetan Bhagat. He gets his ass kicked way too much and I don't aspire to be that.
- I just don't have the time, man!
