Between the Raindrops

Know the superstition that your new year tends to follow the trend set by the first day of the year? I hope to God that that’s untrue because the first day of my year was terrible. Honestly, so were the first two weeks. Moreover, so have been these 22 days. Now don’t ask me to point out specifics, because after a while chaos is an all-encompassing whirlwind of grey in which logical reasoning is not welcome. However, it would make sense to point out that my definition of “terrible” seems to have changed, and of course, all pain and discomfort is relative. Therefore, it’s not that mascara is dripping down my face (to be fair, I don’t wear any) but that obstinate, dreamy, annoyingly hopeful part of me really wishes I had had a better start. Not that I expected 2017 to rain flowers and add sparkle to everything, but come on, I used to be a hopeless romantic. There are some vestigial characteristics that refuse to go away.

More than the absence of a solid routine (yes, I said discomfort is relative), what has pained me most is how I was disappointed and hurt by some of the people I love most. It really made me wonder that if I had to suspend expectations from those closest to me, what’s the point of it all? Why is it imperative for even some of the best people to act like retards. What would we have to give the universe to behave the fuck just for one time? Is that too much to ask? What kind of a bonkers world we live in that caring is so low on the priority list? You’ve known me for so long, do you not know some of your messed up actions are going to hurt me? I mean, come on. Don’t be such a thick-headed blob of flesh. But then, one learns to live with stuff like that, the tide ebbs and flows, and things become okay. So, that’s that.

And then, there are those who are not closest, but close, and still end up doing some really asinine stuff. I’d say “whacked out” but it might sound like a compliment given the world we’re living in. That, I wholly agree, is my problem. For I realise that if I expect someone to do the right thing (for them) or even society, that’s just me being warped in the head. I take full responsibility for the judgments I make in my head, and I try really hard not to show it. It bothers me, and I wish it didn’t because it’s none of my business how some people walk straight into a ditch. Why do I even care? What’s wrong with me? I have issues.

I am not sure what my plan for this year is and I’ve stayed away from those “to-do” or “planner” posts this year. They’re annoying and unnecessarily hopeful. I think I’m starting to sound like the grinch, and from what I remember, P has told me that my job for this year is to be hopeful and hers is to be a caustic-realist. Let me back up to sound accordingly. So, even though I don’t have plans for what my year looks like, I know that I want a solid routine. I’m not turning into a bore, I promise. Buy me a cup of white tea, I’ll demonstrate my quirkiness. So, while I do want accessories for a red chiffon saree, what I also want is a solid routine. I want to be able to fill in the new heavenly notebooks I’ve received, write something every week, read a good book every now and then, and even exercise. I have to admit that I have been beating myself up mercilessly ever since I have started sleeping in late. I am constantly plagued by the fact that I don’t wake up early and something inside me is telling me that I am on a slow road to hating myself. I kid you not. I actually have these thoughts. I’m forever worried and that’s why I try not to eat a lot of junk. This has to stop, and one of the ways for me to do this is to exercise. I wish I’d stop procrastinating it. I wish I didn’t get in my own way. Like I said, I have issues.

The other day, DF sent me a very interesting article by Manu Joseph on the undeserved privilege of Delhi. Although, it’s as old as me, I find it offensive that I haven’t read it. But when I did, it all started to make sense to me – why that city is so uncouth and how it’s easy to identify a ‘Delhi guy’, and why he’s the bane of that city. I shall stop talking about it in my incoherent slew of thoughts. The contempt of Bombay for Delhi has never been better explained. If it has, I wouldn’t know. I’ve been living under a rock.

I’m not a huge fan of audio books and although it is wonderful when someone reads to you, such luxuries are rare. To effectively manufacture this luxury, I found a fantastic podcast back when my eyes were hurting and I couldn’t read off my e-reader. I highly recommend the most recent episode of the podcast on Japanese Fairytales. It’s misty-eyed, simple, and romantic. I’ve heard a bunch of other episodes too, and they’re quite fun. It was on this podcast that my fascination with Iceland started. Which reminds me, I still want to visit. (Note to Self: Must keep my job.)

All in all, I’ve spent two weeks trying to get a better handle on my days. The struggle continues. But for most parts, I’ll learn how to embody what Abed says, ‘Cool. Cool. Cool.’


  1. I think I will continue to give the posts song titles. I wasn’t able to come up with anything else.
  2. I’m getting the feeling I am leaving out some more recommendations. Will return when I recall.

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