10 Nov 2016

Marriage is 100::100

Turns out, The Man was right after all. I was deliriously happy on the wedding day, which translated into me being a radiant bride, face packs be damned. Seriously, I just couldn't stop smiling!

The ceremony itself, which in other weddings seemed painfully long, was shorter. I missed out on picture time with few friends who could stay only for a little while because I had to be the bride on the stage, but other than that, it was a blast.

Half a dozen costume changes over a day and I was very glad that we chose not to have a reception. We stood like Ken & Barbie for some time, while people gave their gifts, but mostly, it was avoided because we skipped formalities. There are some great candid shots (I hope), the photos haven't come yet. I'm still impatiently waiting for pics, if only to update my Facebook DP.

But most of all, the moment when he tied the mangalsutra/thaali/sacred thread is forever etched on my mind. Defying traditions, I didn't want to look down demurely while he tied it. Instead, I looked straight into his eyes, choking down the sob that was threatening to come and smiled.
Tears shone in our eyes as we quietly voiced our I love you to each other.

In that moment, he became my family and I became his. In our own little bubble, its just us, no one else.

Post-wedding and a wonderful few weeks in Greece later, everything is largely unchanged. But every now and then, I poke him in his tummy. When he looks up enquiringly, I grin and say "Husband". He grins back and calls me "Wife." Its surreal.

18 Jun 2016

Senti-smug or happy-smug

What makes someone stop in their tracks and choose to go off-path?

When you stop midway and decide you deserve better - a better life, better love, better job, better whatever. You deserve everything that the world has to offer you because you are here. Here. Where your past is behind you and you finally stop re-living the past over and over in the wrong choices that you make for yourself.

Wrong men for you. Wrong job for you. Wrong house for you. Wrong decisions for you.

For every wrong turn, there has been something better that has come my way. I've been okay making all the wrong decisions for me, because none of them have been permanent. I have found myself out of the situation, just by reminding myself that I deserve happiness.

I've made some dick moves and all of them have been averaged out. Cuz life's a normal distribution (those are not my words, I would never reduce life to a math equation). Its The Man's belief that everything averages out. The high-highs don't remain that way and the low-lows go back up again. And that's the kind of belief I can rest my faith on.

What's constant is you. I believe in strong foundations and ours is rock-steady. You are my personal miracle, because I chose you...you are my genuine shot at happiness.

I can't wait to marry you. 

24 Mar 2016

Love-shuv and besan-paste

I was religiously preparing a paste of besan, turmeric and green gram on my face when my phone indicated a familiar ringtone of a Skype call. The Man was impatient, he didn’t wait the half hour I had told him it would take to finish my “beauty ritual.”

“What were you doing?” he asked, pinching my imaginary nose in the air in front of him.
“If you must know, I was making besan-haldi-maavu paste to put on my face. It’s a new effort I’m taking to make sure I’m flawlessly radiant on wedding day.” I smiled, waiting to see a similar smile on his face. Any reference to the impending wedding and we grin like we are the only two to ever get married. Instead, he appeared puzzled.

“Why? What flaws are you correcting?”

I’d have gone on an immediate tirade, starting with my dark circles and ending with the unsightly love handles (why only they are called love handles. Nobody loves it on themselves); but I paused because I knew he wouldn’t buy my feeble attempts about dark circles.

“I don’t want to appear tired and dull.”
There. That was vague enough that he’d move on to other topics and let me prepare my concoction in peace.

“We have to wake up at 5 am for the Muhurtham. We will be tired anyway. Won’t you have makeup so you won’t look dull?” 
Why is he not letting up!

“I don’t particularly like the blemishes and marks and flaws okay? I need my paste and my dance routines to make me feel I’m getting to a goal!”

“Do your dance baby, put on your paste, but don’t mask it under ‘flaw correction’ or ‘reaching a goal’. Do it because you want to be healthy by exercising and rejecting chemicals by using organic. Because you are beautiful as you are.”

I’ve heard it before. To be loved as you are is a wondrous thing and the people in my life affirm the one thing I haven’t been able to tell myself at all – I love you as you are. There are no flaws. There is just you.

I’ve tried the diets, exercises and everything that goes with it. Rujuta was a favourite for a long time because she spoke a lot of sense, but I haven’t been able to stick with anything for too long. And not being comfortable in your skin also meant that you end up being okay when you regress into old habits.

We ended up talking about it for a long time…he admitted he had insecurities too, but for the most part, he’d shrug them off because fundamentally, he loved who he was, however he was. I admit it would take me some time to reach the zen he exudes while he says that he is absolutely comfortable in his skin (I still try to inconspicuously cover bits of myself at times), but I’m learning to love my body as much as I love my mind, my spirit and my ability to love with absolute conviction.

I’m trying again with renewed vigour and the knowledge safe in my soul – I’m me, however I am. I’m flawed, that’s okay. I’m loved, that’s a blessing beyond anything else.

I’ve no goals this time, not really. Just to be healthy to live out the many lives with The Man in parallel universes I had demanded from the creator in my last post.

20 Feb 2016

Nervous! Who, me?

The first month of this year has whizzed past very quickly and only you come into sharp focus amidst  all the blurred images and people. The two sets of parents are meeting soon to talk about inane details like venue, caterers, guest list, customs and so on. That we don't belong to the same "caste" would probably be a white elephant in the room. Maybe. I don't know how these things work. At nearly 30, my only tryst with getting close to the 'M' word is with you.

As it goes, I can't remember when I mentally transitioned you from crush to boyfriend to fiance to husband to the nucleus of my universe; but time lapses around you have been so frequent, that I don't pause recollect any of the moments...I'm as much in the now as I am in our future.

A wedding is merely means of celebrating the vows we've already taken. A certificate from the Government is means of confirming the commitment we already honor. A traditional exchange of rings, unnecessary and a ceremonial mangalsutra, redundant.

I'm constantly amazed by how I already feel married to you. When you hold me close and call me your wife, I can only feel warmth till the tip of my toes. Being around you, talking to you about mundane things, falling in a rhythm of the everyday is a glorious experience for me. If it wasn't you, the very word would have sent me propelling backwards in a spiral of terrified thoughts in frozen feet. But your presence fills me up with faith that no hesitation nor uncertainty has dared to cross.

It is easy to take off your clothes and have sex. But to be open, letting a person in to your hopes, dreams and future - baring your soul - being completely naked, is singularly rare and cherished. I can be utterly helpless and absolutely strong around you - the paradox is not lost on me. I like knowing that you are unabashedly guileless and remarkably worldly around me. I want to inspire the same underlying foundation of trust that you have inspired in me.

In the metaphorical bubble of life, with you, a lifetime isn't enough. I demand more from the universe. Several lifetimes in parallel universes ought to do the trick.