The Bangalore weather has been so damp since the past week that I actually wondered if Noah has reincarnated and making some Doom’s day ship behind the towering concretes that are so mushrooming around this city. I like a rainy day when I can just sip tea or slip below my blanket with a book or surf around the internet with infinitely popping questions in my infinitely curious mind or just plug in my hard-drive to enjoy a good movie. Today has been extra annoying as I had to wash clothes; a chore that I hate to do but do it frequently anyway. A necessary evil of life.
Last night I Whatsapped (yes, it’s a verb now) a close friend typing “I almost fainted from the smell of my own socks” while having a nice childlike chuckle. There’s always a fun side of being messy if not nasty; and then got up painstakingly to soak them along with other smelly things.
It was today 10:00 am precisely that I ventured into the damp arena of my bathroom and picked them up to rinse. It was then, exactly then that a baggage was thrown out of my train of thoughts that liberated me from most of my insecurities. I looked at my socks, fringed in black and grey on a white piece of cloth and that made me fall in love with myself. All over again. The baggage thrown had all the dirty linen that I had to get rid of; once and for all.
Reading is a dangerous business. It can create euphoria and chaos at the same time. It creates all the reality and fantasy of your being. It can give you a purpose or make you question your existing one. Some books render you empty; making your existence look ridiculously insignificant in the grand scheme of things; making you feel purposeless; making you question the meaning of life, free will; even freedom. But at the same time, it is meaningless unless it has something about you, for you! All the love stories that you wanted to be a part of is about you. All the thrones in the castles are for you. The valiant stories, the magic, the dragons, the knowledge; everything is about you, for you! The real good books will tell you the truth; no sugar coating, will make you hope realistically and keep both your feet on the ground by making you realize the necessary good and bad that makes you, YOU!
So here’s what I found about me that I kept neglecting; forbidding myself the truth in those thoughts:
- I am not a happy girl; at least for my creative side. Forever happiness is a sad thing. I dwell in my den of unhappiness because that fuels my source of inspiration. My creativity blooms from those dark corners; in nocturnal life. There are times, quiet often when I do come out to play in the sunshine and I like that too. But given to choose, I would choose sadness. Happiness is too easy to get; sadness is to be earned.
- I love with conditions, ego and non-sacrificial nature. Who doesn’t go through heartaches? Though it feels that it is one of the greatest feeling in the world to be loved, to be desired; the feeling of self-love with all your quacks and genuineness dwarfs it. (Don’t get me wrong, I am happy being single). The condition of conditions, ego and no-sacrifice remains intact in my soul; even in love. (Spare your “you haven’t found the one yet” speech. Trust me, I have.)
- I am responsible for my own regrets. In other words, I would rather regret on my own terms than someone else making my decisions for me (elders included).
- I am intolerably introspective and hence through that I arrived at a conclusion of how a great a virtue selfishness is. (Ayn Rand backs me with her book. Go read!)
It is a good thing to live your life by quotes; it’s ever better to run wild and make your life quotable. ( As they say; be a good warning if not an excellent example) 😉
Back to the “socking” story:
Winter is here along with all the showers. My fingers went numb in the chilled water. The socks are washed and cleaned and when they dry they will hug my feet, keeping them warm while I cuddle my penguin and eat Oreos and Bourbon (licking cream first). The warmth feels good only because it is chilled outside. It would be wrong if I hate winters for making me numb. As for the socks, a lot of desperate singles are asking me to be hooked up. I will give them exactly what they want. I am sure Santa will find something to stuff them, if he somehow manages to sneak into my current chimney-less home.
Originally posted on Blogger on Nov 15, 2015