The first girl I ever loved (more like one-sided devotion in the beginning, cherry popping for both in the middle, ‘We’d live happily ever after’ near the end and ‘goodbye and thanks for all the amazing mind-boggling sex’ eventually) is getting married next year to her boyfriend of three years. I didn’t get the news straight from the horse’s mouth (oh and what a heavenly horse she was), but from the horse’s chuddy-buddy (who has finally blossomed in her 20s, Seabiscuit indeed). Melancholy is hiding somewhere in the deep recesses of my heart waiting to ambush the I-don’t-care-I’ll-get-someone-better-than-her bravado which lurks in my mind.
The affair started at a time when the first sign of manhood was sprouting all over my face and slowly morphing into a thick dark stubble. O what a stubble! I never wanted to shave, just wanted to grow really old and have a long flowing white beard in which bread-crumbs would get stuck. I wanted to be like Gandalf the Grey – chasing dragons and working with dwarfs to find a hidden treasure.
This was a time when I had never heard of the word humility. I was arrogant as hell and drunk on my intellectual prowess. I was ambitious and aggressive and a complete orifice in the posterior.
She changed all that – changed me for the better. And I changed her. It was like ‘Taming of the Shrew’ where we each took turns playing Katherine. Two years it lasted and then fizzled away. I finally understood what Eliot meant in The Hollow Men –
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper
The news of her getting hitched made me take a long hard look at all my affairs (of the heart and of the skin). And boy there are a lot of them! I realised that she was the only one ever who truly anchored me to reality. With a fertile mind like mine I had always preferred the world of my imagination over reality. But she proved to me that there were things even Chubby (her nickname for my mind - the size of a football field) couldn’t imagine. And she was right, as usual. But she left. And Chubby came back to haunt me.
Since then I have been trying to find other anchors. Maybe I found better anchors, but let them slip away as they didn’t live up to my expectations, which thanks to Chubby are very high. I realised that I was suffering from the Archie complex. The Betty Coopers of the world have been around me, but I have been desperately trying to find my Veronica Lodge.
I realised what true love is all about. It’s about mutual co-dependence. When each other’s presence in our lives is as crucial as the air we breathe, then we are in love. As usual the truth dawns, but a little too late.
Ah! Enough mush for a day. Need to go indulge in some bacchanalian revelry. This is a picture some IITian took. Found it in some old folders so decided to put it up.
The affair started at a time when the first sign of manhood was sprouting all over my face and slowly morphing into a thick dark stubble. O what a stubble! I never wanted to shave, just wanted to grow really old and have a long flowing white beard in which bread-crumbs would get stuck. I wanted to be like Gandalf the Grey – chasing dragons and working with dwarfs to find a hidden treasure.
This was a time when I had never heard of the word humility. I was arrogant as hell and drunk on my intellectual prowess. I was ambitious and aggressive and a complete orifice in the posterior.
She changed all that – changed me for the better. And I changed her. It was like ‘Taming of the Shrew’ where we each took turns playing Katherine. Two years it lasted and then fizzled away. I finally understood what Eliot meant in The Hollow Men –
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper
The news of her getting hitched made me take a long hard look at all my affairs (of the heart and of the skin). And boy there are a lot of them! I realised that she was the only one ever who truly anchored me to reality. With a fertile mind like mine I had always preferred the world of my imagination over reality. But she proved to me that there were things even Chubby (her nickname for my mind - the size of a football field) couldn’t imagine. And she was right, as usual. But she left. And Chubby came back to haunt me.
Since then I have been trying to find other anchors. Maybe I found better anchors, but let them slip away as they didn’t live up to my expectations, which thanks to Chubby are very high. I realised that I was suffering from the Archie complex. The Betty Coopers of the world have been around me, but I have been desperately trying to find my Veronica Lodge.
I realised what true love is all about. It’s about mutual co-dependence. When each other’s presence in our lives is as crucial as the air we breathe, then we are in love. As usual the truth dawns, but a little too late.
Ah! Enough mush for a day. Need to go indulge in some bacchanalian revelry. This is a picture some IITian took. Found it in some old folders so decided to put it up.
6 comments:
The monkey is hanging between Sarayu and Sharavati hostels in IIT Madras
OH! That's a monkey! :D
Dude, give upp trying to understand women and their feelings and thought processes and so on. It just doesn't work.
hey anshu!
good of u to drop by. reading this blog reminded me of an essay by jermoe.k.jerome in 'idle thoughts of an idle man'. read it if u haven't already. u'll relate to it:) and hey, thanks for the tip on word verification. and u coming to goa?
maybe your Veronica's here??out of the closet...
Anon - Ha ha Veronica's Closet - Kristie Alley used to be good in that
I hope I don't fall for a Veronica who's coming out of the closet. Watch 'Chasing Amy' and you'll understand what I'm saying.
change in template is unsettling.
Made worse by a grey day where every time zone has been turtled, due to the fact Ive been up for what feels like 37 hours.
Shes getting hitched, mm... aye, as are the rest of the happiest people in the world.
mutual co-dependence.
I could do a few things.
a) go anonymous and spew poetic hogwash abt what it all 'can be'. perhaps a quote from gibran?
b) nod and pat that bony shoulder of yours.
c) ode and sonnetify the joys of being single, only to end with a tear on a cornflake, mumbling about how Im the eggman, we're the eggman, Im the walrus..
d)tell you that this like all else, will pass. Which is why its beautiful.
Instead Im going to ask you if you've read ondaatje's 'coming through slaughter'. And tell you that if you havent, you should.
And aye-- black was better. This is like downing the vodka and being loud and happy so everyone thinks ur annoying and their best friend so they wont see whats in ur eyes...and then not being able to go to sleep.
Too bright, in short.
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