I am not quite sure about the amount of hate I may generate with this post – but let me get it out anyway.
I am not a fan of babies. I have never been a baby person. I have never gone “Awww… So cute” when I saw a baby except a few that I really thought were cute (Those few I can count on the fingers of one hand and still have fingers to dip in the jar of Nutella to lick). I am that person who can simply ignore when a baby is being too cute and vying for attention.
I am also not mean or cruel or cold. It’s just that the attraction of a baby never reached me fully. I am more likely to be attracted by a GIF of a chocolate fondant cake than the hundred pictures of a baby. I am in that age-group where some people have started having babies or the baby-talk has entered their life. At this point, I am not sure what I can add to the talk. Neither do I know much about babies, or am interested in their activities or have any inclination to have one in the near future. (Near… Far… That will take another 10000 words to express)
My friend took it upon herself to melt my heart and bombarded me with the cutest baby photographs and GIFs. I admit, there were some really adorable ones that did squirm into the corner of my heart. But the one that caught my eye had a puppy in it and then I was lost. I spent the next one hour looking up videos of puppies playing with babies then progressed to puppies playing with other puppies and finally to puppies playing with kittens.
When I meet a baby, I cannot fawn over him or her! I just cannot. I will play (those feet are so cuddly!) and smile (those gurgling noises are cute!) and make faces (those laughs and shiny eyes!). But they don’t really become a part of my universe. It just does not happen.
I think it is fine. I know I make a cool aunt… the babies who became pre-schoolers and young adults will vouch for it. I have also been awarded the favourite aunt by three of them. Not too bad eh, for someone who is not a baby fan?
Late afternoons often found her sitting alone, still and straight. Her mind would travel years back in time, when the house was full of children’s laughs and echoing footfalls. In a flash, hours and days had molded into long years of cooking dinners, attending PTA meetings and finishing yet another load of laundry.
Now the house sat quiet, reminiscing of a din long gone. The children had moved out and her husband was indulging yet another hobby. One evening, a sliver of sunshine happened to escape the curtain’s stern guard. Through the dance of dust mites, she happened upon her reflection. Her eyes and her face told stories of the years gone by and the errands they had seen through.
There were no stories of her own. There was not even a hint of the flame that once shone bright in her eyes; it was extinguished long ago.
A muted glint from a hidden corner caught her attention – somehow her old ghungru* had managed to dapple in the last light of the setting sun. It had been so long she had seen them – she had almost forgotten how they felt tied at her ankles. With trembling fingers she handled them delicately, more precious than any gem in the world.
What if….? Dare she even dream…?
The next afternoon saw her tentatively clearing a space and dusting out her old dancing clothes. As her feet slowly became accustomed to the once-familiar weight of her ghungru, the years melted away and she fell into a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. On days when she was not at dance school, the curtains were firmly drawn back as she conducted personal concerts under the sunny spotlight.
She was not a daughter, a wife or a mother then. She was a dancer. She was an artist. She was her chosen form. She was blowing at the cool embers, re-kindling a fire that had almost blown out. It was never too late to spark it back!
I don’t remember the last time I really looked at my reflection in the mirror – not even on my wedding day. Typically I spend a few minutes required each morning to ensure that I pass off as a reasonable human specimen at work. Otherwise, I simply avoid looking at myself and examining what or who is really looking back at me.
It has been a whirlwind few months for me… Physically, I have taken some time off to rejuvenate. Mentally? It’s a blank slate. It was a riot outside of me while inside there resided a long silence. It is still quiet – I do have thoughts that flicker like a match – aflame and powerful for a moment then quickly burning out into smoke and ash *my drafts folder nods enthusiastically*
It feels like I was living in a dream while dreams feel like reality! My life gets a … life… at night as I am dreaming away to Pluto; I feel more alive then instead of the waking hours as a clockwork human where I am just checking off my present and losing the sense of time. Looking into the mirror and trying to talk to myself was difficult as we were both working on different surreal platforms. What if I don’t recognize the person in the mirror? Or what if we get into a fight? They are both me right?
I know there is no permanence to this phase of feeling “out of it” as I am already getting back in it! It’s just a slow evolution which is work in progress – that should explain the limbo stage of life.
Every day I tell myself – tomorrow I will look at myself really hard in the mirror and stay longer than the time taken to apply my eye-liner. I want to talk it out – bring closure to our incomplete conversations.
Til then, I will just sleep it out – that works, right?
How do you talk to yourself, if you do? Written for JustJoJan – today’s prompt was “Incomplete” as given by Cyn of That Cynking Feeling.
I started this blog 2.5 years back in the wee hours of the night, when I was going through one of my many “What am I doing with my life?” rant. In the middle of my existential crisis, this blog was born and over a period of time it transformed from acquaintance to therapist to finally becoming a friend. When I am writing, I write like I would talk to my best friend and it is never an effort.
Writing was never an effort. Blogging was a different game. Blogging introduced different minds and communities who are ever willing to teach, provided you take the time and effort to learn. That really tested me and so often I thought, let me take a break from blogging.
But… you don’t take a break from friends, do you? Maybe you meet less often and more selectively – but when you get together, it feels like no time has passed. You pick up where you left off. So yeah! I stumbled and raced through 161 blog posts and here I am…
…. I have crossed 1000 followers. This was something I never imagined would happen to my little blog. But it did.
So biggest and humblest thanks to all of you! This blog becomes a person with 6 senses because of you. Thank you for giving this place such a colourful life 🙂
In the million parallel universes inside my head, each features a version of me exactly as this plus one superpower or an incredible skill that I have practiced the necessary 10000 hours. A trigger on that one cell in my body which transforms me into a cross between Hermione Granger and Lara Croft.
I am so unsure of what super-power I want, I just pick from a random list. Time travel comes a close second. I desperately want to go back in time and just see the world as a mute and invisible spectator. It’ll be fascinating to learn and find the answer to how did we evolve into such an awesome and messed up race.
I wouldn’t mind experiencing life as Matilda either – one of my favourite characters in literature 🙂 Having her gift will make life infinitely more colorful! Or maybe, I would want to be exceptionally hypnotic and be able to read people’s minds/emotions. But I assume it will get very noisy. Keeping track of what goes on in my mind is bad enough, let alone what is happening in others’.
I have no idea what is first on my list. I think incredible fitness, where I am bendy and strong like those warrior princess… yet so smoking hot that I have extremely able and handsome men vying for my hand. Even if there aren’t any men, I would love to have the stealth and cunning to get myself out of the trapped room in a matter of seconds without an eyelid out of place. But… Waffles and Nutella are extremely close to my heart along with lazing with a dog to sustain THAT life.
ORRRR …. Maybe the ability to listen to what the animals and trees and birds are talking about! And be able to talk back. Yup… That is nice. I wouldn’t mind that one. Works fine with Nutella.
I am keeping that as my desired superpower till I cook up another one. As of now, thinking about potential superpowers seems to be my existing superpower.