I, Me and Myself
If two of your closest friends, who had never met or spoken to each other, were to describe you to each other, do you think their descriptions would be similar?
There are times when it feels like there are so many people living in my head, that I’m not quite sure which of them is the “real me”. Or if there even is a “real me”. There are people who rely on me for advice on the toughest situations, and there are people who look after me rather than look to me for guidance. There are people who think I’m the spice of every party, the drama queen. And then I know of people who think of me as reserved and shy, an introvert who lacks social skills and needs to come out of her shell. There are days when I’m a writer or a poet, and others when I’m a geek, a lover of science. I can fix the blinds and the plumbing, put up curtain rods and picture frames on walls. But I can’t assemble a coffee table by myself. I can cook a complete four course meal for a guest list of ten in a day. But I’ve also been known to eat salsa and chips for dinner when I’m by myself.
I’m considered mature, crazy, romantic, practical, a laugh riot, a scary manic depressive. I am extremes and I’m nothing. I sound like that Meredith Brooks’s song, “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover”. I think that song epitomizes how every woman would like to think of herself.
These last few days I have been forced to do some introspection. I need a plan. I need to know where I’m headed. But most importantly I need to decide the kind of person I have grown into and what that person wants from life. It hasn’t quite been easy, but it’s been interesting. It’s not easy to know who you really are, to understand that person and to actually like that person. I don’t know if I’ll ever really completely know who I am. I do tend to surprise myself often. It keeps the learning process alive. And I’d like to believe I keep growing as a person, changing with the winds of time.
Do you know who you really are? Are you constant in being yourself, or do you, like me, put on different masks at different times? Are you happy being you?
Friends and Lovers
Wham! Strike!
It was the tenth frame and her third strike in a row. She hooted with joy and turned around to high five him, only to find him lost in conversation with the group of jocks bowling in the next lane discussing the merits of beer. The cheer died on her lips and she turned away just as quickly to hide her disappointment. To a stranger, they looked like any other young couple out on a date but it hadn’t been that way for years now. Today was the first time in months that they were spending time together. They weren’t all that young either, but years of releasing pent up frustrations in workout sessions kept them in good shape and they looked good.
Their marriage counselor had suggested this bowling alley as a neutral ground to re-connect with each other. They were supposed to try and make things work. This “date” was meant to bring the zing back into their relationship. She held back the sardonic laughter at the thought and went up to him. “Sweetie, you’re up next” she said softly trying to keep the smile in her voice. Then, trying a little harder, so as to not ruin the evening completely, she turned to the guys he was talking to and joked about how she was beating him hollow. He laughed with her, and without a look at the score, bowled his turn with complete nonchalance.
The lane on the other side had a group of friends obviously having fun. One of the girls had just bowled a gutter ball and her boyfriend was playfully teasing her about it. There was such camaraderie between them, as if they’d known each other all their lives. “True love”, she whispered and then scoffed at the thought. Sometimes friendship was a lot deeper than love; she knew that now. She looked back at her husband, finishing his frame and getting ready to leave. She saw the man she woke up next to every morning and tried to remember how he’d looked the first time they’d met.
It had been over eleven years ago. They had both joined as new recruits at the same multi-national bank and it was their first day at training. She was new to the city. He had been to school there. She knew no one at the training and was wondering who to go up and talk to. By the lunch break he knew all the pretty girls in their training class and had plans for pool and beer that evening with a bunch of guys who had joined with them. She was still by herself on the bus home that evening. He had invited their trainer along to play pool with them and hence got himself and his pals a ride to the bar they had decided on. She had seen him look her way briefly and had thought about him all the way back home. He’d seen her walk into class and filed her away in the little black book that he maintained in his head.
Slowly, over the next few days, she made friends with others who were in training with them. And then on Friday afternoon, their first weekend after joining, he walked up to the group of people she was lunching with and asked if anyone was interested in going dancing with him and a couple of his friends on Saturday night. Plans were made, phone numbers were exchanged and he walked away. He called on Saturday morning, saying he was borrowing his brother’s car and asking if she needed a ride. Surprised and glad (she didn’t like to drive), she accepted. He picked her up, they chatted in the car and before they knew it they were friends.
After that weekend things changed drastically for her. She got swept up in the whirlpool of his ever increasing friends circle. They became the best of friends. He would be the one who introduced her to the first guy she ever loved. She would tease him relentlessly about the innumerable girls he dated. Within days they knew each others’ life stories. There was a love that was above mere romantic fancies; a friendship so deep and true that it put true love to shame. But as all good things must, training ended and they were posted to different cities. They kept in touch, visited each other every few months. Eventually each got busy in their lives, and though the love remained, they both moved on. She changed jobs; he left the country. The visits became less frequent and eventually stopped altogether.
Then six years ago they decided to meet up again. They were both visiting the same city where they’d met, for a business conference. It was a perfect way to re-live the good ‘ol days. They hadn’t met in a little over three years. They booked rooms in the same hotel and coordinated travel arrangements. Her plane landed before his and so she had the rental car all ready to pick him up when he flew in. The instant they saw each other they knew nothing had changed. They laughed easily. He teased her about having to pick him up because he knew she still disliked driving. She laughed at his new “serious, mature” look. They talked. Right through the presentation sessions of the conference, they talked about everything under the sun. They were making up for lost time, updating each other on all that had happened to them in the last three years.
She told him about her heartbreak over the first and only love of her life. He asked her advice about this girl he had been serious about for a little over a year. She was pleasantly surprised that he’d finally found someone whom he could stay with for that long and not go wandering about. He grinned sheepishly, a little shy about his first real relationship, yet at ease with her. Because he knew she understood. And because he knew it was ok to talk about stuff with her.
After the conference they had planned to stay an extra day together before heading back into their busy lives. They planned to take a trip down nostalgia lane, eat at their favorite joint, walk the roads behind her previous hostel where they had spent many a night walking and talking about their dreams and aspirations. And finally they planned to go dancing to the club where they had hung out together the first time. At their local mall, she helped him pick out lingerie for his girl friend, giggling all the time. They were out all night, drinking, dancing, laughing. Neither remembered how they got back to the hotel that night.
The next morning disaster struck. They woke up together in his bed, with a hazy recollection of a very steamy night together. They looked at each other, for a moment devastated and ashamed. She was trying to get out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her, shy and awkward, when she tripped and fell flat on her face. He laughed softly. She looked at him and then burst out laughing herself. Within seconds they were both in splits, rolling on the floor laughing. It was all ok again.
And they left, to live their lives far, far away. Friends forever.
Six weeks later she called him, in panic. She thought she was pregnant. He flew to her that very day. The events of that day were still a little hazy to her. She remembered sitting with him at the coffee shop all day, trying to listen to him but really too stunned to feel anything. He was asking her what she thought she wanted to do. She asked about his girl friend and if he’d told her why he had come here immediately.
“Oh! I broke up with her the day I got back, I just knew it wasn’t meant to be”, was all he said.
And then he asked her if she might want to keep the baby. She didn’t know what she wanted. The test results weren’t even in yet and the home pregnancy test she had taken had been unclear. Should they be panicking and deciding things this soon? Before she could realize what was happening, he was down on one knee, asking her to marry him. She remembered thinking it was all happening too fast. She looked at him, at the earnestness in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice, and broke down crying. Yes, she would marry him.
The next morning, she found out it had been a false alarm. She informed him about it at breakfast, embarrassed and unwilling to meet his eye. He kept silent for a moment and then he said “Will you marry me anyway?” She looked into his face, bewildered. He grinned. She knew what her answer would be. She had often wondered later if they had been swept away in a moment of high emotional vulnerability. Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe it was just meant to be. Who knows?
They got married that summer. She found a job where he lived and their life started a new chapter. In the beginning it really was perfect. They had such perfect understanding. He made her laugh. She gave him that certain necessary stability in his life. They complemented each other beautifully.
And then slowly they started to change. She would get irritable every time he was charming to another girl. He would sulk every time she stopped him from spending on a whim. Neither knew when they started fighting more than laughing. Their once treasured friendship was now in tatters. Soon enough apathy set in and each got busy in their careers putting their work before their marriage. They worked hard and so they did well for themselves, but were slowly slipping away from each other.
“Let’s get back home”, he said and she snapped back to the present. “Okay”, she replied, picking up her bag and bowling shoes, following him to the car park. Last month he had left for a weekend alone at a friend’s cabin in the hills, to “get some air”. That’s when she knew they were really at the edge and as soon as he returned she had convinced him to try and save their marriage by getting counseling. This was their first “homework”. And, although he had gone along with all of it so far, she had to admit, this evening hadn’t gone too well.
That night, as he turned off the lights and came into bed, she asked “You remember that first weekend in training, when all of us went dancing? Why did you come up to our table and ask us to join your friends?”
He turned towards her and frowned.
“Why are you asking me this again now? What do you really want me to say?” he asked.
“Nothing. It was just a thought. Forget I asked”.
They were silent for a moment. And then in the darkness he said –
“I’m sorry. I know you’ve asked me this often in the past and I always gave you a lame reply. The truth is it was nothing romantic. I asked everyone in class to come. But, the scary part is I don’t know what made me call you the next day and offer you a ride. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
She smiled at his honesty. They hadn’t been this candid without screaming at each other in ages. She decided to push her luck a little further.
“When did you first fall in love with me?”
He grinned and said “Ok! Now I know that is a trick question. You want me to say the first moment I saw you, right?”
She laughed and playfully punched him.
“I’m serious. I really want to know!”
“Well, if you must know, it was that morning in the hotel room, when you tried getting out of bed and tripped. You were scurrying, your hair in tangles, face flushed. It was such a comical sight and I don’t know why but at that moment I just knew.”
She exclaimed, indignant, then laughed softly, remembering that morning.
“Do you still love me? At all?” she asked after a moment, hesitant, afraid of what he would say next.
He was silent for a long while. She thought he hadn’t heard, or maybe he’d drifted to sleep. She sighed. Sleep seemed to have vanished so she thought she’d sit out in the balcony and look at the stars, her favorite solution for her insomnia. Just as she was getting into the easy chair on the balcony he followed her out and came to kneel before her, taking her hands in his and resting his face in them. The moonlight seemed to take away the years from his face, and his eyes twinkled with star light.
“You know why I agreed to the counseling after I came back from the cabin? It’s because no matter how much we fight we never sleep apart from each other and alone in that cabin I missed you. I couldn’t sleep without you fighting me for the blanket and complaining about the room temperature. It was too silent, too empty. Much too peaceful for someone of my temperament, I’d say. You said we need to save our marriage and I agreed. But when you asked me if I still love you, I wondered if I really love you or I am just habituated to living with you. And I thought that I didn’t know the answer any more. And then you get up and walk out here, leaving me alone and I get a vision of our room, and our home, without you. I don’t like it one bit. If not wanting to be without you is any indication, then yes, I do love you deeply. Ok?”
By now she was crying openly, for all the time they had lost, for all their doubts, for all their bitterness. She bent and kissed him, her friend, her love, her husband. And she knew then that they would make it. It wouldn’t be easy but he loved her. She didn’t need anything more.
They walked back in, and went to sleep, holding each other, for the first time in a year.
Lucky breaksLessons shmessons! Let’s get to the fun stuff now!
So I spent the four days of the Christmas weekend at a friend’s place in San Jose. Wait a minute did I say four days? You bet I did! After those impossible six weeks of pure slavery, we got 24th and 31st December off!!! So it was that I spent four days, with 7-8 friends in a 3 bedroom apartment, drinking and watching movies all night, and of course sleeping all day! I can't really remember what we did for food though. Hmmm! Maybe that's because I don't remember getting up from my corner on the couch and even looking towards the kitchen! Yes, yes, I know, everyone wants my friends. You can try being really nice to me. Else, get in line!
The trip was actually in honor of one of my friends’ birthday. On the eve of the birthday, we did up the living room as if for a children's birthday party, which some might consider appropriate given our collective mental ages. Later that day his colleagues joined the party, with two sets of cakes. Yes, one to eat, and the other, sigh! It was all over him, all over the place, and thankfully not anywhere near me! And it was not just cake. There was champagne, there were eggs, and stuff I have no idea about! Of course, four batches of vodka gol gappas made everything so much better for everyone. Trust me - they're nasty, but they get the job done!
Sadly, there was also a hiccup or two. The flu decided to join the party and soon enough scratchy throats, watery eyes and body aches were knocking down our door. Time to head back home!
I got back just in time to host one of my best friend’s brother with his 6 month pregnant wife and 3 year old son. I vacuumed, mopped and polished the apartment all night, only to see their son make a bee line for my shot glasses! I can tell you, the boy is definitely on the right track! All the same, I woke up with a horrible migraine the next day. Yes migraine, not hang over! And promptly took the next two days off, saying I had the flu as well. I stayed home, detox'd, slept and cooked for my guests. In the middle of one such cooking session, when I was cutting some onions, my boss called to ask after me. Now I usually don't have anything nice to say about onions because they seem real intent on making me cry more than any ex-boyfriend ever could. But in this case, I shall make an exception. I was all teary eyed, with a scratchy throat and runny nose on the phone, and my boss was so concerned (and convinced)! Wow! How about that for luck?!
Recharged and refreshed after my four day party and two day sick leave, I was ready for my next 5 day vacation on the opposite coast. I flew out to NJ on Friday night, met up with an old friend on Saturday, spent all day catching up, hung out in a mall that evening, helping him buy his girl friend lingerie from Victoria’s Secret, and went out for some serious binge drinking that night. Yes, yes, I know everyone wants to be my friend too. What can I say, sigh!
I spent Sunday with my cousin planning New Years Eve and had dinner at some relatives’ place where I politely declined the wine and opted for orange juice instead. When I couldn't make up my mind if I wanted pulp or no pulp, our host very kindly took out a third carton with "Medium Pulp" and poured me a glass. Unbelievable! Dinner was delicious, by the way. Unfortunately, they had ice cream for dessert. I was one of those weird children who never liked ice cream and sadly I still don't. (I remember saying this at work once and my colleague responded “.... and so you grew up to be a weird adult who doesn't like ice cream"! How rude!).
Anyway, the evening was not too bad. My cousins were working the next day, so I spent the day with my "guitar playing friend" in NY. We found a quaint little cafe near NYU that served "Darjeeling Estate tea (Indian)" in a little ceramic teapot. It was just perfect! New Years Eve was as most New Years Eve's usually are. I was with my cousins till midnight, did the champagne toast etc, got leered at by lecherous drunk men, one of whom came up to me and said "Find me at midnight and I just might favor you with a dance"!!!! I mean, seriously?! Damn it was funny! After that, I have a vague recollection of sitting on the side walk, waiting for my "guitar playing friend" (I really need a shorter nickname for him) to show up while my cousins tried to hail a cab. A big Afro-American guy came up to me and said something (I'm not quite sure what) and I remember replying to him in my best American accent ever - "I'm sorry, I don't speak English". I really was thinking in Punjabi but the words came out in English and the instant I heard them, I knew what an idiot I’d been! Thankfully, the guy just cracked up and walked away, my cousins got their cab and I managed to spend the rest of the night with two very drunk guys (guitar hero and his friend) who spent the better part of an hour finding a place to go while my heels killed my feet. The rest of the night was spent at a bar whose name none of us remember and events I really shouldn't recount here.
After that I just had to spend two days sleeping and then none too soon, the holidays were over. I'm back in my room now, enjoying the LA winter under a blanket, glad to have left the NYC cold behind, resolving to have no more New Years Eve parties.
Phew! That was fun, eh?!
