The Other Side

Yeah! The other side is too bright occasionally!

I feel like throwing things at people at times. Or anything in front of me. I am not partial.

This big question “Why!!” keeps popping. Why did I work so hard at school? Why did I decide to be all independent? Why am I still in the same city after two years? Why am I so boring? Why is everything normal? Why am I missing the breathlessness? Why????

I feel like I have lost all enthusiasm in life. There was this intense drive inside me – always! Something to look forward to. Something to work for. And now, it is snoring. There is no fight! Weirdly, just a minute back I got a text from a friend going through the exact same thing about how he likes “my enthu” towards life. WHAT??

Which leads to these moments of weaknesses to turn my back on responsibility and sensibility. To everything robotic and pointless! I don’t get goosebumps and butterflies when I look into the mirror. I see a typical corporate slave, a struggling health freak and a writer without a muse (and time). And slave for what? Some figures in the bank and a chance at a good mortgage? Yeah… Definitely something to tell my grandchildren – not!

My life from far (and up close), is actually sorted. In spite of not playing by the book, I do have the ideal checklist that society has laid out ticked off.

  • Family – check!
  • Guy – check!
  • Job – check!
  • Health – check!
  • Friends – check!
  • Fun, laughs, impulsive moments – check!

Nothing wrong in this picture – this rant is just me wistfully looking at the “greener” side. People jet-packing around the world with their fat wallets and divine wardrobes. A lifestyle straight from glossy magazines. Somehow the normal scars of getting a degree, working ten hours a day, worrying about health and bank balance eludes them. Did I do something wrong? Or is it plain self-victimization? (I know it is the latter – shush!)

I crave. To taste the air I am breathing in, to listen to the winds burning my eyes and to see the gush of life flying right by my ears. Empty-handed, I have nothing to show for my time. I feel suffocated. I want to get out. Meander. I want to jump off the cliff again! To feel again.

Walk the thin rope. Straddle the line. The bird inside flutters.

But I can still grow wings, whisper a prayer and jump off with the assurance I can pick myself up.  I worked hard and I believe in those efforts. And on most days I appreciate them. Maybe it is slower and even harder. But I don’t want to lose sight of the magical sunrise of my backyard just because I am yearning for the lost wild. I want to jump on that train and venture into the unknown as long as I know how to find my way back.

The grass is greener on the other side because it has been watered! So I hope my seeds are just waiting to sprout.

I think.

Which is your side? Or are you buried somewhere deep down? Or is your place up in the clouds? Or you are the one who oscillates like me?

 This rant about my moody enthusiasm in life was a result of the prompt “enthuse” at Stream of Consciousness Saturday hosted by the lovely and charming Linda G Hill. Come over – you may find cookies!!


We Women, I swear!

We love. We hate. We talk. We ignore. We hug. We sulk. We support. We bitch.

We are the best of friends. We are the worst of enemies.

We are the biggest fans. We are the sharpest critics.

We give it our all. We take everything back.

We are women.

With the brain and heart not really working in tandem, I have been a giant dessert salad bowl of feelings, emotions, practicality and logic. It’s a crust of impudence, a fudge of flirtatiousness, a ganache of sensitivity, a sprinkling of caution all blended together in a fascinating sauce of womanly seasonings.

I was never a girly girl. It was never about pink frocks and beaded jewelry. Yes, I came up with disasters when I played with mom’s make up and made dad an essential part of Barbie tea parties… but at the end of the day, being a girl was never really my distinctive quality. And then came the thriving, terrifying teens and life was topsy-turvy! A nerdy introverted kid, I had a small group of close friends. I was a part of those girl gangs but never really in with my heart and soul. I was a spectator, a witness, an objective third party. And what I saw…

Why is it that it is our girlie gang behind many of those lurking misgivings, tiny hurtful sentiments and moments of self-doubt? Why are there unspoken words behind tags of partners-in-crime, female solidarity and sisterhood? We compete for the chic dress and funky hairdo. We compare our bodies and draw satisfaction when the scales tilt towards the other’s heavier side. We gossip like crazy about the sexual escapades of our fellow women and go mad over stalking the exes of our boyfriends to be assured “Oh! You are better! She is no competition at all”. We have a bunch of fake friends and a photo album full of groupies you couldn’t care less of! We dislike this one girl on sight and label her with every bad name we can think of (Okay fine! At times, she really is a cow… female intuition works here!) We subtly criticize when one of our own has an outstanding achievement. We have double standards – we demand liberalisation and unlocking the shackles but do not shy away from slut-shaming a promiscuous woman.

Nothing and no one is spared… boyfriends, wardrobes, jobs, paychecks, relationships with our moms, our cooking repertoire! I have been guilty of quite a few and have no doubt that I ain’t changing overnight. Why do we do this to ourselves? These crossed wires mazing around! Yes, I am doing some major generalizing. It doesn’t happen every time with everyone… but at one point, at one moment, it has happened.

Yet, it is impossible to live without our daily dose of female camaraderie. I love my girlfriends! I love exchanging clothes, gossiping over drinks, bonding over our mutual hatred of the period gods (I may dislike her, but it will never stop me from lending a tampon to my girl in need), comparing first times, swapping love tips, sorting family issues and be insanely crazy. At times, a comforting shoulder and a nice cuddle with our mates is our sustenance. We will be lost without each other and these quirks which are so uniquely female!

SATC quote nails it – “Maybe our girlfriends are our soulmates and guys are just people to have fun with”


Photo Challenge #25 “The Other Woman”

Photo Credit: Tom Bagshaw
Photo Credit: Tom Bagshaw

Every waking moment Coline spent, her thoughts would stray to HER! She struggled to keep from being drawn to the door across the hall and failed. She shook her head and started dressing for work. Her style reflected her personality – plain and discreet which easily melted in the crowd. As she brushed her straight hair, her thoughts flashed to how SHE would do her hair this morning. Tied back with a colorful scarf or half open with the riot of curls spilling down her back? Whatever she did, it would turn heads!

As she sipped her chocolate milk, she saw the discarded green tea SHE had left on the counter. “Nicole!” she sighed. For the millionth time, she wondered what she had been thinking when she had taken HER as a flat mate! She fought this incessant perceptual war that brewed self-doubts and jealousy inside her. Nicole was everything that she wasn’t. Smart, funny and witty – the cynosure of all eyes!  She had the perfect life, a sassy job and attractive friends. Her clothes fit her like a glove and her boyfriend looked like he had come straight from romance novels. Spitefully, she reached out and knocked over the health supplements Nicole had arranged on the counter and stalked out to catch the bus. No luxury cars for her, unlike her dear flat mate!

Nicole’s face fell when she saw the mess Coline had made yet again. With a grimace, she set the place in order. She read the resentment in Coline’s eyes every time she came back late from parties. No matter how hard she tried, Coline never understood how much she admired her. A steady job, a sensible boyfriend and a secure future! It looked so promising than the superficial gloss she led. She made up her mind, “I will talk to her. I can’t take this anymore!

Cranky and nursing her favourite poison from the bar, Coline stumbled into the house. As she spied Nicole’s reflection in the mirror, her mind registered two things – she owned the dress and yet it looked better on Nicole! A red film descended on her and she lashed out, tearing the dress from her. As her vision cleared, she saw a bloody disfigured face staring accusingly at her. Horrified, she rushed to the hospital and frantically explained what had happened between Nicole and her. She tried to resist the sedative being administered but finally relented, the anguished whisper “Coline” dying on her lips.

A week later, the nurse walked in to check on her. The room was empty with the patient tag left behind. The patient file was torn and someone had systematically rearranged the name COLINE to form NICOLE and remarked – “The Ugly Coline is gone. Forever

The slashed tag read: “Coline: Suspected DID”


DID: Dissociative Identity Disorder (also known as Multiple Personality Disorder)

As per Merriam Webster, Anagram (noun): a word or phrase made by transposing the letters of another word or phrase

My second venture into fiction writing. This was in response to an awesome Photo Challenge over at mindlovemisery’s prompts. I love feedback 🙂