Chugging along

The dry patch that I’ve run into writing wise, seems to be much bigger than a patch. But on a hot summer Madras afternoon, sitting alone with only my thoughts I started reflecting upon my life as it is now, how it was a few years ago, how the life of people around me is and where I fit in. Change. A simple six letter word, uncomplicated to pronounce. I say the word out loud and marvel at the ease at which it rolls off the tongue..but the huge implications of it all. My first post of the year was this nasty cynical rant, written at a time of high levels of work related frustration, fatigue thanks to over work, yet another bout of low BP induced giddyness. Im sitting here now in a vastly different situation. Got myself a transfer to another team, where the quality of work is way better, the hours much shorter. I was so scared to even ask for this move as I really didnt want to hear a no, but it happened so seamlessly, in a matter of less than a week and my life changed.

Sometimes I feel the facets of my life move like the rails on a track. Parallel. The good and the shit happens. At the same time. I don’t think there has ever been a point in time where I’ve known only happiness or I’ve known only sorrow. All I know is that my happiness has always been guilt tinged, because of the bad that happens parallely and indeed that the bad has been a little more acceptable thanks to the good. Loosely I’d say that the good essentially has been my reasonably seamless academic record and subsequently work, and of course being with KT and the bad is the situation involving my dad and how much I feel for my mother, the helplessness that you can’t do much with the situation.

My mother seems to have absorbed all the bad luck or vibes, call it what you will with respect to marriage and only the good seems to have filtered out to me. She seems to have infinite patience in dealing with the scene, something that infuriates me and my brother, who is now going through what I did some years back. He left home post school and has returned after a four year period..during which time the issues hit the ceiling and drove us insane. The darkest times of my life was when was studying for my CA Finals, sitting at home, with no respite from a drunk – in a gambling induced stupour dad. I was driven to  a point when I was a nervous wreck, unable to read, when I actually abused my dad’s gambling buddies on the phone, pummelled my dad..I can see my brother go through that now and it depresses me. I am away from the actual scene and can afford to be more rational and tolerant about him now, saying things like he’s terribly mentally ill and that he is in need of help etc. But its tough to be all of that when you are the actual recipient of mental abuse and when you see your mother targetted as well. You wonder what the end is to all of this. Things like divorce or a separation are not practical so late in life. Abandoning is more the term. Its dark and depressing.

And I play the chameleon. Cheerful, confident, full of opinions on every subject under the sun to the outside world. When a part of me is dead, numb. KT is a darling, throws me little surprises every now and then. Spoils me rotten, says thank you when I try and help out his weight loss efforts, when I make a small extra effort round the house when he is sick. And I react badly sometimes to the kindness he shows.  I cry and rant when he gets me a little gift. I am not sure if I can even explain the complex thoughts in my head, that I actually feel guilty for having a happy married life, I almost feel like asking for some off the happiness taken away and directed towards my mother if there has to be an equilibrium to these matters.

I try constantly to put things in perspective, not look at myself in isolation. To look at other people and their happiness and their sorrow. My uncle lost his mother, brother and a little nephew in a span of three months. The nephew, a cancer patient died in an accident. Life can get so bizarre, surely mine isnt as bizarre. Strangely that thought gives me comfort.

We  got ourselves a treadmill and I am getting a nice pair of shoes. Going to work out for 20 minutes everyday and the thought makes me happy. We’re eating healthier and it feels good. A short holiday has been planned in June and that’s something to look forward to. The IPL is here again and is grating on my nerves! So much for being a cricket lover! Lalit Modi is simply annoying, with close competition from Shilpa Shetty and of course the commentators (Mandira Bedi and Co). The only saving grace of the even is Mr Fake IPL Player..he is absolutely hilarious and I’m a huge fan of his!

I need to get my passport renewed and will hopefully get rid of that terrible picture from the teenage days, where I look gawky, insolent and totally badly dressed. I am yet to take my new picture..so wish me luck (I am in the middle of a terrible haircut though)!

Someone reading this post will probably think I have bi polar depression or something…wait is that my rails of a track theory. I know I’m lucid though!

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