Character sketches

I’ve come up with a man. I mean a plan. To write about my man. Or to write about my need for a man. Or to write about weird men. And women.

Maybe I’ll just write. I could title it ‘Nonsense.’ Here goes Character Sketch #1. (Cuz I can’t sketch.)


IMG_0878
I somehow managed to come up with this. (Click on pic to check out this cool guy when you can)

The first time I laid eyes on Pandu, I was reminded of a really tall, lanky frog. He had bulging eyes and wore round specs. We met at a free seminar on beetles by some renowned entomologist. Pandu sat on the seat next to me and snored loudly. Although it was quite entertaining, after a while I poked him hard in the ribs. He jumped, looked at me, then grinned, winked, rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue, all at the same time. One could see he was quite mad, and I got the sense we would get along just fine.

During break time, I gobbled up 3 sandwiches and was gathering up my bag as I swallowed the last bite, when he appeared at my side, an entire foot taller than me, not counting the crop of curly hair sitting atop his head. I opened my mouth to make up an excuse about having to dash somewhere, when a tomato slice popped out. Solemnly he caught the tomato, and plunked it back into my mouth. Wordlessly he proceeds to sling my bag over his shoulders, and lead me out the door.

Turns out, he had attended the seminar thinking it was on the Volkswagen species (he has a mad fascination for cars). But I thought it was an honest mistake, could happen to anybody.

Pandu didn’t talk much, but when he did, the words came out a little slurred, especially around the ‘R’s, like he was always a little drunk. He cracked dumb jokes, and sometimes whole minutes went by before he realized you aren’t laughing with him. He liked his peace time, and was easily accused of having attitude and being rude. But most often than not, here was a goofy person who was bound to make you laugh.

He really was a crazy one, and yet oddly talented without even trying. He was also a magician of sorts. He would clap on, clap off, like Morgan Freeman in Bruce Almighty, and the lights would come on. He could moonwalk and break dance like he was Michael freaking Jackson, and sometimes it was like he had no bones. He could eat with his hands tied behind his back. He’d look at the food, and a long tongue would shoot out and gobble up the food.

His hair was altogether a magician’s mystery. Few people have dared to put their hand in his hair, not knowing what to expect. Things camped in there, and I have pulled out lice, rabbits, and pigeons from in there. One day I even got my hand stuck, we had to call emergency to get my hand un-entangled.

Fascinating creature, Pandu.

Advertisements

Lost dimensions

21st November.

It’s an important date. It used to mark anniversaries of a past love. Year after year of gifts and romance, cards and special surprises, then absence, distance, bitter fights to coming back stronger with a sweeter love. The aging date stole time from under our young, naive eyes, only to throw them back at me as memories of a lost dimension.

5 anniversaries later, I started resenting the lost years of stumbling through life unquestioning, unaware of who I was and where I was headed. I was restless, and I knew this time the upheaval was far too big to be subdued under compromise. I knew then, that I would always be restless in love. I would always be certain only of what I don’t want, and always seeking what I want.

On 21st November last year, I bade goodbye to my first love, scared of letting go and guilty of having hurt him. But my instincts told me I’m doing the right thing. A year later, and nothing has changed; but nothing’s the same any more.

Who knew so much could happen in a year, especially so much of what would ultimately be remembered with either sadness, guilt or regret? I believed I was still the same person inside, just doing things I didn’t usually do. It’s just a phase, and I’m living someone else’s borrowed lifestyle of excessive partying, drinking and occasional screwups, I kept telling myself. Well, not anymore. This girl is sobering down, it’s done and resolved.

NewYearsEve

The date is still significant. This year the clock struck 12 and time passed by a drunk me in a stranger’s arms. It gave me a good hard much-needed slap on the face. It left me wringing my hands in despair, and the more I thought of what I’m doing the more I fell into depression, terrified of confessing to anyone for fear of being judged, and completely clueless of how to get out of this mess.

So I wrote this post and decided that if there’s one thing I knew about myself, it was that I’m not a coward. I told myself to take a deep breath and start by being completely honest, without fearing who I might lose in this process. Once again, this date seems to have woken me up from a deep stupor.

I guess now the date marks my years of stumbling down an unknown path, stubbornly alone, just as unaware of who I am, and just as sure of what I don’t want.