I am a peculiar person. No trust me, I am. I go into a hibernation hole when there is winter in life. In my igloo, I have but a handful of people, a mindful of memories and a sprinkling of hope. When winter subsides and the snow begins to melt, I spread out my wings. And then, there is no stopping my flight.
When in the shower, I switch on a customized playlist. I turn the water off during my favourite bits of the songs. True to Dad’s favourite way of treating me, I treat myself to pastries for breakfast. I then spend time in front of the mirror trying to gauge just how I look in the new clothes I bought for myself. My silver earrings flutter in the breeze from the window and I forget how I claim I cannot dance.
Then, in surly autumn days, I do not like certain people coming and visiting. I feel I can see right through them. They sit there munching crispies and drinking tea but are actually trying to seek a hole in the curtain or a cobweb behind the wall. I make faces at these people when they are not looking.
Then there are people whose goal in life is to make us believe that their son has the best job America has to offer. Also, the house they built after selling off their old one for xx.xx crore is ravishing enough to invite the US President for a meal. So? I never have an idea how we are supposed to react after these people are done. What I usually do is shake their hand and ask them to send photographs of their mansion to some lifestyle magazine.
There are times when clouds gather in the sky overhead and thunder growls in the distance. When drops of rain get trapped between the green leaves of my window-side plant, I click a picture. I then grow sad. The picture doesn’t have that. That magic. I click another and then give up the idea. It is so much better to sing out aloud and think of all that is beautiful in life. Little kids playing with paper boats. Typing out a story on the laptop. Talking to my beloved for hours together, about nothing of much consequence.
My career is important to me. I like to see things acquire a shape, an order. I slave for days and nights together to achieve a goal I have set for myself. It is all the more joyous when I know that what I am working at is what I have always wanted to do. To have support systems – human – who also enjoy seeing me enjoying is a blessing. I do not have to face a dilemma of choosing one over the other.
I do not like my dreams to be tampered with. They are mine. I do what defines me best. ‘My’ people happily chug along for they trust my decisions and believe in me. Yes, I have my bad hair days – and I mean that literally too – and days when I feel like a queen. There are also days when I expect people to treat me like one. I am lucky to have an all-weather world with people who know best how to keep my insanity at bay.
Celebration for me equals love. Respect. Faith. Life, in its kaleidoscopic bitter-sweet moments, ensures I get enough. What is a celebration anyway without its fair share of popped balloons and fallen cakes? In any case, I am hardly fixated. Oh come on. I listen to everybody. I give them all a fair chance. And then, I do exactly what I want.
Wishing you all a very happy Women’s Day!
Sorted out, very-there or just totally insane, you’re worth a celebration! 😀