Le Divorce

Over the last few weeks, i've had several things to write about. But everytime i came here, thinking i'd put down a post - another memory in the cybervoid - i wondered, "Is it really that important?" It wasn't. But then, nothing in my blog is. So why stop, eh?

The story is about Children. And Parents. And Marriage and Divorce. Coming from a 'broken family' myself, i'm a little sick and tired of the eyes that widen while hearing a story of another fallen apart marriage, another shaken foundation stone of what should have been a long-term relationship. And then there are the hushed voices that say, "But what about the child?" But i have been guilty of the same, though not for the same reasons.

I recently found myself face-to-face with this exact situation. A very close friend of mine - Damien - told me that he was separating from his wife of four years. I know they have been going through their share of ups and downs over the years, but with the arrival of their bundle of joy a year or so ago, most people assumed that things were limping back to normal.

Not. Because if they had been, he would have not cheated on his wife, he said. So, the simple decision was to end it. My immediate reaction was "You have a son. what about that?" to which he replied, "He's too young." I laughed.

Yes, the child does go through his/her share of trauma. If the kid is old enough, then he/she pretty much is certain that the reason why Mommy and Daddy are fighting is him/her. It must be because he/she asked for the cycle, or doesn't like mushrooms or got a 'can do better' remark from the schoolteacher in the last pages of the school diary. The kid vows to be the best kid ever
if the parents will not fight anymore.

If the kid is a little older, then the battle lines are drawn and he/she is forced - subtly or otherwise - to pick sides. Daddy becomes the 'asshole' or Mommy becomes the 'bitch'. There is
rage, not because the child is really upset about the divorce situation but more because the child can't understand how his parents - the people he loves the most - made him/her pick a side, without a thought to how that would tear him up. And that rage forms a big part of who he/she finally becomes.

Damien was certain that the split would not harm the psyche of his too-young son. But the reason i laughed was because Damien, in all his knowledgable naivete, had no idea what the absence of his kid would do to him. And few people actually stop to think about that.

The way i see it, the reason people go through the whole process of loving, marriage, conception, childbirth and child rearing (the last bit goes on till you die) is to have someone in your life who will never stop belonging. You will always be a parent, the child will always be your child, whom you will always worry about and always love, pretty much unconditionally. But that bond only happens over time, over fights and arguments, and laughs. You become a prototype for the child's moral compass, it imbibes your values, and through the child, you propagate all that you think is good and right in your world. It's a rare chance to shape the future.

The Kid? He'll find alternate role models, strangers who have a say simply by virtue of being around when a child's question - "what does fuck mean?" - needed an adult answer.

The divorce won't screw up the kid as much as it will screw up the parent as he helplessly watches his future become someone else's. My Father didn't know this. I hope Damien does.

So Long and Thanks for all the Fish

I think I'm done writing here. I find myself writing for an audience that lately is filled with people i know. They quote me in conversation. They write about me in their blogs. It's all quite flattering. And claustrophobia-inducing.

I find myself writing about nothing... or rather, writing about things that matter, but always considering the most palatable presentation. In the process I lose out on my truth. Instead, i come up with shoddy paragraphs that aren't even cathartic. Completely awful, and doesn't augur well for my career as a novelist.

Oh well, those are the breaks.

I hate making final statements, so i'll leave myself a loophole - This may be my home but i need a vacation. Maybe i'll be back. Maybe not.

Till i know, thanks for writing in. It's been great :-)

The Delhi (dah-lee)

I've always had a love-hate relationship with Delhi... and no, it's not the cliched 'i love to hate' kind of thing either. It's... something else.

I have spent the longest time of my almost-nomadic life in Delhi - a total of 12 years. It's a really long time to spend in a city known for its chauvinistic attitude, unsafe streets, daylight rapes-kidnappings-muggings and where eve-teasing is so rampant as to be almost invisible.

It was when i realised that i was developing a chronic backache from the constant hunching and holding my arms in front of my chest that i decided to run. And oh, i ran. All the way across the country to Pune, the land of black soils and unimaginable freedom (comparitively speaking, ofcourse).

My next tryst with Delhi then began 3-4 years later when i fell in love with a Delhi-boy. It was ironic actually that i had to run away to find someone who was actually already in my friend circle. I hadn't noticed him ever while i was there. Very Alchemist. It was also a reflection of who i would have been had i continued living there - a closed-off person who lived in fear and gave an inch to no-one.

This time however, things were better. Probably because by then public transport was a thing of my past and interaction with the masses was kept to a minimum thanks to boyfriend-bodyguard always being around during the once-in-two-months trips that were undertaken. But what irked was that one needed those separators in place to be comfortable.

Back in Mumbai i would soak up the freedom, the mental space and the comparitive safety, while shaking off the remnants of the Dahlee Dust. When the romantic relationship ended, so did the renewed acquaintance with the city. Good riddance, i felt.

And then recently i found myself back there, now moving mostly between Le Meridien and Karol Bagh. I was there for a work assignment and was quite surprised to see how much Delhi has changed. It's become bigger and populated.. by cars. Coming from a city where one finds people on the streets regardless of the time of day/night, i was a little taken aback at not seeing too many people on the roads even during the day. But i did see a lot of cars. And Cabs.

Maybe it's distance that gives you the kind of objectivity required to reassess a place. Delhi is pretty. Clean air, thanks to stringent controls, lots of greenery and flowers and a comfortable climate. The houses are spacious as are the roads. The lifestyle is laid-back. The food is delicious. But somethings haven't changed. People talk loudly. LOUDLY. Cabbies overcharge and aren't considered safe. And there is a palpable sense of boundaries - of behaviour, clothing, etc - that exists.

The common sentiment is that if all the people from Delhi were vacuumed up and replaced by Bombayites, Delhi would be the most amazing city to live in. But until that happens, Delhi will continue to be the city that makes me glad i call Bombay (potholes, prices not withstanding) home.

The Spark

Why is this concept so hard to understand? Women like men who know how to ignite the spark in them. Simple. Over the last couple of days i've been nanny to a few of my male friends' non-relationship problems. Both of them have decided they want to be with a particular girl (different girl for each of them) and the chosen girl ofcourse treats them like... furniture.

Can't say i blame the girl. While i was trying to tell them what they should do to attract attention of their respective scrumpets, I found myself giving up and saying, "I can't imagine you being sexual." Yeowch!! But there it is - THAT is the problem.

For a woman to be sexually attracted and feel sexual requires a man (or a woman, if she's gay). If you don't believe me, imagine being in a single-sex world. Make up companies would collapse, so would aftershave and perfume, etc etc. At this point, probably all the feminists of the world just turned in their graves, but i'm talking sexuality, not the equal rights in the workplace, man helping change diapers kind of stuff. Sexuality, whether we like it or not, is linked to sex, and the desire to mate. Who would want to mate with furniture?

Boy 1 told me, "i don't give 'bhao' to women. Either they talk to me or they can fuck off." And the result of that admirable stance? He's sipping coffee with a platonic female friend, while the Girl is probably having dinner with someone who went that extra distance and got noticed. Boy 2 asks, "What do you mean get noticed? We're friends already." Uh, yeah.. and that's how she treats you, not as someone she'd want to bonk silly.

Sigh.

And then i started wondering about the solution. What would it take to create the proverbial 'spark'. And the answer is - surprise.

The minute you surprise someone, you get their attention. It makes you stand out from the crowd. It's what all pick-up-lines, flowers in the workplace, whipped cream in bed etc is all about - surprise.

- the shy guy who reveals a sardonic sense of humor
- the funny guy who suddenly goes serious
- the 'fuck you, i'm cool' guy who shows sincere concern
- the ugly guy who keeps getting stunning women as visitors (call your friends or hire them, if you must!)
- the weird stamp collector almost-stalker guy...who's just near-sighted.

Or whatever.

The point i'm trying to make is that we as women love to categorize men. Once we have pigeon-holed you, then we can deal with you. It's the men who refuse to fall in with our definitions and keep us off-kilter that annoy us, irritate us and finally... get us.

Stupid, huh? I know. But the truth is, once you get our attention for a long enough period, then we start desiring your exclusive attention. And thus continues the age-old dance.

PS: Maybe the above is a simplistic explanation. But it's definitely a place to start.

I think.

Rules of Engagement

I felt a single most ecstatic burst of happiness a few days ago. It was while i watched a bunch of strangers - boys, girls, men and kids - throw their arms up in the air and dance to a song. I forget what song it was, i forget the singer - all i remember is that feeling of unadulterated happiness seeing all those people moving together to one common beat, smiling, laughing, moving their bodies, joyful. A simple beat, a simple song, and everyone relates to it in the most primal way. Fabulous.

Not like real life when there is no single beat, no single lyric, no one song. In the cacophony of verbal and non-verbal noise, i'm lost about what the next step should be.

Recently, i met Mark and we had a normal conversation about movies, music, friends and stuff while we sipped on wine and he rubbed my shoulders. It's taken a long many months of coffee breaks, dinners, sporadic dancing evenings out, etc - for us to get to this stage, but before i knew it, he was kissing (!!!) my shoulders and then i was astride him with my tongue down his throat. All very pulse-racingly exciting. But in my head i had a thousand questions firing off - what's going on? Does he like me? Or is this some strange validation thing? Or is this a 'casual' thing, as he said? Will it be casual for me? Do i want him? Or is my desire a function of not being able to have him? Or gratitude that he's in my life again?

So ofcourse, with all these questions going off like firecrackers, i'm obviously distracted, which reflects in my ardor. So things end off there, i go home, hugging myself in bed, awake till 5 o clock the next morning going nowhere in my head. And since then, nothing. No reference to the evening or the moment. We're back to being... friends.

I'm confused. I wish there was a a list of rules - of engagement - when it comes to the two sexes dancing the mating dance. And it's not just Mark. Looking over my recent interactions with Boys, i get a feeling something is out of whack.

First there's Mocha. After a break-up that wasn't really a break up but more a 'let's take a break' situation, we're back to using a plethora of 'baby', 'sweety' and 'darling' terminology. Which by itself doesn't mean anything i know, and considering we've each been through a serious relationship after that (which didn't work out), lots of water has flown under the bridge. So we're friends. Who adore each other. And I know it doesn't really mean anything that just because he called me out of the blue, i flew across to see him and spend one day with him. I know it doesn't mean anything that as we slept, he curled up around me and held me like he wasn't going to let go. I know all that... and yet, i can't help but wonder about the exact nature of the 'friendship.'

Then there's Jackie. Who went a little nuts on me after meeting me twice, and having two aborted conversations on the phone. He wrote well. Had deep profound insights on life and love. Didn't make me laugh much, but then the night was still young. Then, there was silence for a month. Nothing. Not even an email. Suddenly, one day around the time when i'd kind of written him off, he called to say he was getting married but he would call it all off if only I would give him one indication of my feelings. That was scary.

And finally ofcourse there's Mark.

So I tried formatting a few of these rules, but do feel free to add.

1) If you like someone, just tell them that. Let there be no secret about it. This is not a treasure hunt. Life's gonna be plenty interesting without this added tidbit of "what the fuck is going on!?!"

2) If you don't like them, don't kiss them. If you do kiss them, then let it mean that you DO like them. No casual kissing.

3) But if you don't "like them like them" (is it even allowed to say that once you get out of junior school?), then make it clear. Say, "I enjoyed kissing you (or not). But i don't really 'like you like you' (there's that ridiculous term again). So next time you see me, don't assume that i like you. Or fret about it." Make it clear immediately after kissing exercise. Or before. Or during. But make it clear.

4) If you don't make it clear that same time, then it means you DO like them like them (Fine! YOU find another term). Refer to rule 1.

5) None of the rules apply if I am the KISSER. Instead, please refer to Ostrich Rule below.

Ostrich Rule:

Look elsewhere. Look busy. Look uninterested. Laugh everything off, so you can pretend that you don't take anything seriously. All the while, hope nobody asks you to make difficult choices. So that if things go to hell in a teacup, you can't blame yourself. Nobody else can either. After all, you weren't even paying attention.

But please, someone make a decision!

PS: That means you.

Trust Me.

Two simple words. So easy to say. So hard to do.

He's my friend. Or rather he has become my friend over the last few months of hanging out, drinking and laughs. More importantly, he looks out for me. He makes me feel like i belong to something, no matter how tenuously. He makes me feel warm. He's like my brother and an ogre rolled into one. Which makes him fun. It's surprising, considering one of the first times i met him some many lifetimes ago, he came on to me in an unattractive manner. We don't ever talk about that, thank heavens.

But several years, and many waters under the bridge after that, we're laughing. And that's good. But we've rediscovered each other at a point in time when i'm extremely careful about whom i let into my world. I talk and laugh and let anyone believe that they're my friend. That part's easy. But when it comes to really being a part of my life and my affection, it's like pulling teeth out of my mouth. With pliers. I don't like it but that's how it is and it's tough. Not because i want to provide the challenge but because that's the only way i know how to protect myself.

And he speaks of trust. With the caveat - "don't tell me stuff after i'm 2 drinks down." Which pretty much is anytime i meet him. I've been burned once by him, even though we don't agree about whose fault it was. My position is, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter whose fault it was because I got burned, not him. I wonder if Trust works within a narrow boundary like that. I, who can barely count my own drinks when i get down to it, will i be able to censor myself based on someone else's inebriation? And more importantly, is that trust or just a window of providing information?

The other problem - if trust has been given and shattered thoughtlessly, forgiveness is hard to come by.

Unfortunately in my case there are no 'stages' when it comes to friendship and trust. Either I'm in or out. There are no grey areas, no cusps, no transition periods, nothing. It's a leap of faith. Call me lazy but I don't feel like leaping only to land on hard, jagged-edged rock. Done that so often it's almost boring.

To trust or not to trust, that is the question. Always.

Fearing Loss

A funeral. A man eulogising a stranger. The stranger's family sitting with head bowed, tears streaming down their faces. My friend among them. I don't believe in God, reincarnation or any of the other palliatives that one takes to survive the crushing blow of such loss. All i see is my friend sitting there crying renewed tears with every anecdote told about her father.

I wonder if i'll be there when my parents need me to hold their hand. Or will i typically run away, choosing to block out reality, hoping the calvinesque move will restore things to how they were. I will miss my mother's laugh even though she can drive me insane somedays. My father... I worry that all my unresolved things with him will remain so. Mostly because a resolution requires an acceptance of the problem. He doesn't believe there is any problem. I hope my brother is somewhere nearby as we can always laugh, even at the macabre.

I wonder if anyone will grieve for me. More importantly, I wonder if there will be anyone whose hand i shall hold as i breathe my last, tell them i love them and know that it made a difference to them knowing that.

Or shall i be alone, contemplating the loss of a life i never had? Does any of this matter when we are dead?

"Don't they look cute together?"

How many times have i heard that question? And how many more times have i dismissed it with a look of disbelief that says, "How shallow! Two people in love are two people in love." And here i am today, eating my words.

I opened an old deserted folder on my laptop called "xyz". It's a folder which has old photographs and various pieces of literature linked to my last relationship. I haven't junked it yet. Don't know why. Probably because i expected a day like today, when i'll be intrigued about its contents, and double-click on it, as a dare.

Call me stupid. No really, i mean it. Say it aloud. "You are stupid." Said it? Thank you.

I think i'll blame my mother for this. And Simon. Simon who went and had a drink with him last night, and my mom, because she asked me today, "You are over him, right?" Otherwise i haven't thought of him in months.

The thing is, the girl in those pictures, she looks a bit like me, but not really. And that's what i'm having such a hard time comprehending. It's like i have blocked out such a large part of my memory when it comes to that relationship, that i can barely recognise myself in those pictures. In fact, when i look at them, i swear i can almost make out the haze that forms in front of my eyes.

I was plumper then. Longer hair. He was bald. Still is. Fair complexioned. Dark circles around his eyes. Nice smile. And the two of us look like we so weren't made for each other (lol!).. Seriously.

And i took so long to get over it. Sheeesh! What a waste.

(PS: Incidentally, That's why you called me stupid... the amount of time i took to get to this stage.)

Adult Choices

Everyone who knows someone who has cheated on their significant other, raise your hands! Yep, i'm guessing you did. Now, all those who blamed the other woman/man for breaking up a marriage, raise YOUR hands. I'm thinking the number of hands just went up by atleast half. I'm hoping not, though.

Because in today's day and age, you don't have a leg to stand on.

When my parents split, it was an unusual occurence for that time. For the longest time, the rest of the extended family even managed to pretend that it hadn't happened. In the meanwhile, my Dad met and fell in love with another woman. He technically cheated on my mother since they were still married at that time.

When they decided to officially call it quits, it was a shocking revelation for most people. Probably because in the rest of the family, something like this had never happened. Marriages were sacred and 'through thick and thin till death do you 'part' was a literal statement. And yet, here were two people, who had supposedly been madly in love and shared two kids, just calling it off. While my parents went through their share of grief, I believe that what really riled the rest of the family was the incomprehensible choice they made - personal happiness over societal norms.

Personal Happiness. Two words that changed a culture. Or not. My point being, once THAT can of worms is opened, there is no going back. Personal happiness doesn't stop at just relationships anymore, it extends to your job and career path, your possessions, your friends, etc etc. It goes from buying the right toothpaste (because it makes you feel good about yourself) to studying for the MBA (great pay packets!) to backpacking around the world to 'trying out' partners to see who best suits you.

Ofcourse, behaviour like that comes with its own share of value judgements from others. After all, one man's "partner trial" could very well be another man's "cheating partner". We've all heard "Do unto others as you'd like them to do unto you." (An Aside: That argument falls apart in the vicinity of a masochist who would in that case be giving everyone a royal thrashing.) And yes, we've all heard about the repurcussions of inviting 'bad karma'.

But really, whom are we kidding?? Pursuit of happiness is a choice you make every minute of every day. From the mundane - fried or poached? - to the complex - Shall i dump his sorry ass or shall i stay? - once that choice is made, it's YOUR choice. And hence, it's nobody's problem but yours.

So, if a man/ woman strays, it isn't because there was someone to stray towards, but that he/she CHOSE to risk what they had for the promise of something else.

Bottom line - If you single-mindedly chase your happiness (and that's a good thing, incidentally, since no one else will chase it for you), then it's only logical that others are doing it too. The bad news - their choices may not always fit in with your life plan. But those are the breaks of being an adult and taking responsibility for your life. It's not about paying your bills or doing the laundry - it's about accepting that whatever you do (or don't), has repurcussions on your life. That you have the power to choose. And hopefully you're adult enough to deal with that without hiding behind cliches.

Recipe for Love

What you will need:

a) Three glasses of home-made cashew wine, maybe more

b) Russel Crowe on the screen

c) Spicy jalapeno pizza

d) A film set in beautiful Florence

e) Rock ballads with lyrics like -

...."I knew something changed between us,
All the talk we made was small
But what do you say to someone
When they've heard you say it all
It's an awkward conversation,
In a most peculiar way
How did we get from saying "I love you" to "I'll see you around someday"....

or even lyrics like..

"I can never understand
Why when a drink is in my hand
Time accelerates and leaves me still in love with you..."

Or even...

"I’ve been chasing grace.
Grace ain’t so easily found..
One bad hand can devil a man, chase him and carry him down
When you start giving in, where do the promises all go
Will your darkest hour write a blank check on your soul..."

f) A deep baritone

g) Eyes that crinkle in amusement

h) Solitude

i) A sunday

j) A terrace with a view.

Mix all. Let settle. Hope for the best.

"Dear God, please make me as interesting as my blog..."

(There's a danger in writing about fellow bloggers - they're likely to read your post. And then hate you for it. Unless you spare their feelings. Which isn't honest (and isn't that what a blog is?). And before you know it - you've already written for an audience. Damn!)

A few days ago, I bumped into a bunch of bloggers... different venues, but still fun. One of them happened to be the kid sister of a classmate from a lifetime ago. She claimed to have idolized me at some point. How sweet. Totally unlike today when i get hate - scraps from ex-subordinates. But that's another post (i notice lately that i'm shelving many things for later posts, and then never really getting down to it... Not good).

So anyway, back to blogger evening. It technically started at 6 in the PM, when i ended up meeting a fellow blogger for a non-alcoholic 'date' (non-alcoholic because i was heading back to work, and 'date' cuz 'meeting' sounds so... professional). He's a banker, not linked at all to the media world - a big plus. Big minus - he'd googled me and found out some details of my lurid past. Oh well, those are the breaks. Then later that evening, met up with 'kid sister', her friend, and another blogger whom i've known for a while now. I love their writing - they're witty, apparently honest and great storytellers.

But here's the thing - when one blogs, all that is true and honest and real about you is out there in the open. If you want to know anything about any blogger, just go to their page and their life's literally an open book. And then you meet them face-to-face for the first time and it's like meeting an intimate stranger. You know them, there are questions about their lives you want to ask, maybe just say that you're really thrilled about something or just that you feel their pain... and you can't. Because those intimacies are not 'yours'.... It's the oddest space to be in.

So you just watch them, intrigued and fascinated that someone so truly special is sitting within touching distance. You know that what's going on in behind that bemused expression is the real stuff - that as you're watching them, they're watching their world go slowly by, sifting through the chaff and making notes on what calls out to them.... In real life, they look like regular people - smoking, drinking, dancing, working, travelling, etc etc. But in THIS world.... Ah!

Words Words Words!!!

I spent an evening just now surrounded by a babble of words. Famous people, not so famous people, known faces, not so known faces, all talking non-stop while constantly looking over each others shoulders trying to see if there's someone else with whom they can share the same words with. "Hey, how are you? Long time.. i'm really drunk.. whom are you here with.. ok i'll go get me another drink... Did you hear about.. oh my gawd! That was so awful!.. yeah, i got this is South Africa, when i went for a shoot..do you want another drink?.. What's up?.. how did the recording go? The shopping is so great... No, i stopped doing coke ages ago.. gymming 3 hrs everyday................." It didn't stop.

Maybe it's my discomfort around big noisy crowds that's coloring this particular post. Maybe it's my innate inability to 'mingle till i tingle'. Maybe it's the fact that more often than not i find people using words to hide rather than reveal. Maybe it's all of that and none of it.

Oh, for that one quiet moment of satisfaction spent with someone who, with one touch, drowned out the noises and made everything else fade.

"Use it or Lose it"

It's a common philosophy when it comes to sex - or atleast one's 'mojo' whatever that means. And lately, i've started wondering if, in fact, i may belong to the group that has 'lost' it.

I enjoy sex. I think it's fun. It's got this amazing feel-good factor that most romantic-comedies can't beat. However, lately, i've been quite circumspect when it comes to choosing bed-mates. After a spate of being highly indiscriminate, i just ended it cold turkey (I wish i could do the same with smoking, but that's another post). And since that time, refusing to be swayed by "Oh, i really need to be held right now", i haven't really... you know.. 'been' with anyone.

Then, one day, a conversation came up about the dreaded 'use it or lose it' factor. I admit i got scared. I mean, what if it's true?? So i turned to my age-old acid test - Matt - a man who's always known which buttons to push to get me going. Matt is a man in uniform. He's clean-shaven, tall, dark and lean, kisses like a dream, adores the ground i walk on, and is married. Perfect for a no-strings-attached experiment on mojo-ism. I've known Matt for many years, most of which he spent trying to get into my pants. It was quite flattering, i must admit. But somehow, his inabilty to commit and the fact that he had a long-term girlfriend (now wife) always got in the way of the two of us getting it on. Until a drunken, one-night stand ages ago.

That's history for you.

So a few days ago, after several glasses of wine (and several men who just had not managed to grab my attention over weeks), i thought, "Let me see if i still got it." I called Matt. He surprisingly was in town. Wife wasn't - not for the whole week. This just HAD to be considered as a sign that the Universe wants me to go ahead with the ridiculous plan that had formed in my head. After that, it was just a matter of when i could effectively rationalize my behavior and help my self-control crumble. It didn't take long.

I reached his doorstep, he kissed me hullo, and things got under way. Except - while he was nibbling my neck, and murmuring delicious nothings into my ear, i was thinking of a campaign i had to roll out by the next morning. Yep, I was thinking of work. Maybe it's a step above from thinking of the laundry, but hey! MATT was KISSING me!!! It was Matt! The gorgeous hunk with the big bike and the edgy death wish! Come ON!!

But it was too late... No matter how many glasses of wine i had, how many cigarettes i smoked, how cozy i got with him, somehow - it was over. Kissing him was fun but... cerebral. One constant refrain kept running through my head - Another one bites the dust. The next morning, when i kissed him goodbye, i didn't even feel a pang. It was awful.

In my highly disgruntled state, i bumped into a friend online. She's aware of my highly tumultuous non-relationship with Matt, and rationalized my feelings of 'having lost it' as "You're finally over him! Now you can move on! You haven't lost it - your standards are just not that low anymore." Hmmm..... and this is a friend.

I don't know about moving on. Maybe this is what the Wise Men meant when they talked about attaining nirvana or moksha or whatever. All i know is, i derive greater satisfaction out of watching Johnny Depp wobble his way into Pirate heaven than i do fielding calls from various unknowns.

Maybe i should get a cat named Martha. That's truly complete this picture.

That's what Friends are for...

Something happened. The exact event is commonplace and quite irrelevant. But it has led me to question all my beliefs when it comes to friends and what friendships imply.

I've never put too much stock in 'romantic' relationships - i understand that even if two people adore each other to bits, there are circumstances in which they cannot live with each other. That doesn't reflect badly on the sincerity of the feelings thereof, just that sometimes, shit happens.

But with friendships, the rules are different. More often than not, they're platonic to start with. Immediately, things like sexual tension and jealousy are done away with. And what's brought into sharp focus are the really important things like value systems, integrity and character - archaic words in the world we live in, i know... but i'm old-fashioned.

And in light of recent developments, i've come up with my own definition and list of friendship rules and why they're important.

A friend: Someone you know and like because he/she does the right thing by you and others without compromising his/her own values. Thus, someone whose value-system matches yours to a large extent.

1) Don't fraternize with your friend's ex without permission from the friend. If you do, it means you're ok with people hurting your friend. If the ex is the hurt party, and you want to be nice to him/her, without your friend being ok with it, then it means you're making a choice between your need to do the right thing, and your friend's need not to. If he/she isn't keen about doing the right thing, value systems are obviously out of whack.

2) Keep your friend's secrets. Unless ofcourse the friend's secret is hurting him/her - like drug usage, abuse, etc. Chances are, your friend knows that he/she is in trouble, but is terrified of the solution. Your job is to give them support, and perhaps a backbone. Not to spill the beans. They're not your beans to spill.

3) Accept your friend - quirks and all. Mostly because it takes all kinds to make the world, and if you try to change him/her to better fit your idea of what a friend should be, then you're not being much of a friend anyway. And hence, not worth the trouble of changing for.

4) Make time for your friends. Even if it is in the middle of the night. They wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important... to them atleast.

5) Don't take advantage of your friends. Know that some of their most vulnerable parts are known to you, which is a privilege. Don't use them for professional advancement (unless you have their permission), don't use them for personal grand-standing.

I'm sure there are several loopholes to the above few, and several additions that can be made. But what it essentially boils down to is respect and trust, the two cornerstones of any relationship. A friend asked me recently why it was that i couldn't keep a romantic relationship going - what is it that i was doing wrong. And i have to start wondering, am i expecting too much?

A Fairy Tale

About two years ago, one of my closest friends - Samantha - got married to a guy who adored her. Her wedding day was one of the most painful days of my life.

Many years ago, we had made a pact - that we would be true to our hearts, never compromise on love and never settle for less that our due. We'd been 17. And at the age of 28, after being whacked senseless by life and love, when she married a guy because she 'didn't care either ways', i felt betrayed. This girl, dressed in silk and gold, wearing a blank expression on the 'happiest day of her life' wasn't the friend i'd known and cherished all these years.

Months passed, during which phone calls were the usual mode of contact. But everytime i asked how she was doing, her brittle over-bright voice would travel across the phone waves assuring me that "Things are perfect." After a while, even those infrequent calls petered off - after all, it's impossible to have a real conversation when you're trying to ignore the elephant in the room. However, a few months ago, she called me and told me that she had filed for divorce. She sobbed about how horrible her marriage was, how she didn't love him, how her mother was making her life miserable because of the divorce, etc etc.

I was furious. How dare she expect me to just sit here and listen sympathetically when she knew exactly what she was getting into? And if what she was getting into was so anti-code, then how could she agree to it at all? And now, i was supposed to find it in me to understand her playing a victim? While i mouthed the meaningless platitudes that are meant to comfort and support, inside i was screaming, "What have you done to my friend?"

Then, a few days ago, i read a line that jumped out of the page and practically bit me in the ass. It went like this: Everyone, without exception, is leading their fairy tale life. What????

And then i thought about a conversation i had with Samantha, all those years ago. We were drinking coffee at my place one morning, playing hooky from college, and laughing about how it'll be when we grow up. I was going to be a high-powered corporate executive, having a series of highly intense monogamous relationships, while she was going to be an atleast-twice-married sexy Mama, with a string of admirers. Seems we were living our fairy tale lives after all....

Maybe that line was right. Maybe not. I called her anyway and really listened to her. And while doing so, i sensed my friend there, albeit in flashes. We spoke for an hour, and as I hung up, I promised to visit.

And then i sat down to rewrite my fairy tale.