August

Nine days after I wrote the last post - asking the universe to change something, anything - I got laid off. I think 'fired' is more accurate, given everything that we found out later, but I cannot grasp that. I do not know how I survived June. I slept a lot, I read a lot, I watched a lot of TV. I didn't cry a lot, which initially worried me but eventually that sort of merged with all of my other worries. 

You hear this so often. People get laid off in the media all the time, but for some reason I didn't think it would happen to me. And yet. I have no idea how to even articulate everything that went through my mind in the last two months. I don't even want to think about it too much. 

But things are changing. Big things are happening, things I have wanted for a while. So I have crossed all my fingers and toes that this transition is as smooth as can be, and that I can land on my feet on the other end of it all. 

I need to make a lot of to-do lists and do a lot of things over the next two weeks, so I'm hoping that it'll take up so much of my time that I will not have much of it left to freak out. But, I mean, I am freaking out anyway. Though I feel like that's okay? For a while this summer I felt broken. Not emotionally, but in a way where I stopped giving a shit about some important stuff. At least now I'm worrying so that must mean I'm healing. Right?

Ennui

I completed a year of my second innings in Delhi on Thursday. I had a fairly demoralizing meeting with my boss that day, so I forgot. I don’t usually forget milestones. The next day, when they got a cake for me for completing a year at work, I realized, ‘oh.’ Oh, it’s been a year. The person who returned to Delhi was happy, confident, radiant, and thin. The person cutting this cake is sad, jaded, fading, and fat. How can a year make such a difference, people often wonder. I think if you stop trying, that makes all the difference. In 2015, I stopped trying to hold on to my dream job that had become a nightmare, so I rose from the dead. In 2016, I stopped trying to keep myself happy, so I became unrecognizable. I just wish someone would tell me why.

No one I know blogs often now, at least not the people because of whom I used to be so motivated to blog. I started blogging eight years ago, at 18. Then, it seemed like my life will always be worth writing about. Now, there’s hardly anything that makes sense on paper (or on the screen). But I still think about my (old) blog often. Why can’t I let go? Delete this shell of a blog and just give up entirely? Why is it so hard for me to shake off the past?

People around me are in the process of Figuring It Out. Most people I know are in the bracket of 25-30, so this is a pretty stressful time for all of us. And while I know everyone has issues, I can also see everyone sorting things out one by one. Someone just landed a dream job, someone just married their long-time lover, someone just had a baby and can barely stop smiling. I don’t even know what my dream job is, marriage is just something my parents obsess over, and I don’t even want to babysit. What does that say about me?

My ex got married last week. Can I call him my ex? I don’t know. My on and off boyfriend of five years. How else do I refer to him now? I thought five years entitled me to a phone call. Not a WhatsApp picture from one of our mutual contacts. I’m not going to lie. It stung. I’m not suddenly in love with him because he’s married now, but I am freaked out. We broke up in April and he married some girl in November. How does that work? And why is everyone placing so much importance on marriage?

This blog was supposed to be a new start, me shaking off all that baggage. But I’m never changing, am I? I think they call it ennui.

365

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure - measure a year?

Today, in the middle of the afternoon, while I was staring at my hall's curtains and trying to figure out how to get rid of the lizard hanging there, I realized that it's been a year. A year since I quit my last job. A year since the most melodramatic, humiliating, liberating month of my life culminated into freedom from a job that I loved for two years and hated for the next two.

Today, I'd like to say that I'm in a much better place, that I'm happier, healthier, and on my way to becoming even more happier and healthier. I'd like to say that, but I can't. I don't regret my decision one bit, even though sometimes I miss parts of it, now more so because I'm back in Delhi.

My new job is fine, not great, and sometimes downright intolerable. My new house is nice, but lonely, because everyone just keeps getting busier. I'm disappointing my parents more than ever, and I've failed at all the personal goals I set (and managed to meet last year) for myself.

If anything, instead of progressing, I feel like I'm degenerating into a horrible version of myself, something I vaguely recognize from 2013. This blog was supposed to be about a different version of me, but it's safe to say that that plan has been an epic failure. Does that mean that I can only be a decent, responsible, sane person when I'm not working and living with my parents? That is the question that haunts me.

Hitting that kind of rock bottom again will be the ultimate failure, and it's because of my anger about that, more than anything else, that I seem to be stuck in this rut.

Snippets - I

“Do you think all bosses are crazy, or do I just have rotten luck?”
“Both.”

“I just thought, after what happened last year with the quitting, the sabbatical, the new job, that I wouldn’t have to make any more decisions for a while.”
“But you’ll always have to make decisions now. Personal or professional. That’s adult life.”

“What am I supposed to say?”
“You know, random shit.”
“What random shit? How do I ignore the elephant in the room? Am I supposed to bring up that he’s my potential husband? Chosen by my parents?”
“Um, I don’t think so.”


“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Um…”
“Um…”
“Sorry I couldn’t talk earlier, I was on a deadline.”
“No problem. Are you home now?”
“No, I’m still at work.”
“SO LATE?!!!”
“Um, it’s 8.15.”


“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Um…”
“Um…”
“Had dinner?”


“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Um…”
“Um…”
“What's up?”
“I’m out with friends. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Oh, great. Out where?”
“Social.”
“What’s Social?”

“I can’t marry him, mumma. I don’t even want to meet him.”
“Why? He seems nice.”
“He doesn’t know what Social is! How is that possible?”


“Will you help me buy baby clothes for someone?”
“Of course!”
“And also something for the mother, to say sorry for being such a crappy friend to you for the last six months.”


“I’m sorry I’ve been such a crappy friend. I’m sorry I’m seeing your baby for the first time when she’s almost a year old.”
“I thought that you didn’t want to talk to me, because I have a baby and all. Because I’m practically another generation now.”
“Don’t be silly. If anything, you’ll think my problems are lame, now that you’ve given birth to another human being.”


“When was the last time you saw A?”
“I don’t know, last month? We went out for dinner with a couple of other people from journalism school.”
“Was R there?”
“No, he didn’t come because he and I were fighting.”
“I have this weird feeling, like how are other people still breaking up and patching up when I’m up all night changing diapers.”

“Did he really say that?”
“Yes.”
“He used the word defective? He said if you’re not married by 27 people will think you’re defective?”
“Yes.”
“What an asshole. I’m so angry your friend is married to him.”


“Do you think I’m defective?”
“Of course not!”
“Yeah, of course not.”

“I don’t want to meet him, Papa. There’s nothing impressive about him.”
“Okay, don’t worry. Let me call you back.”

“Don’t meet him. Say no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you have to marry him. If you don’t want to meet him, don’t.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Are you crazy? Of course not. Nobody is going to force you to meet anyone.”
“Oh.”
“Are you crying?”

“I’m so homesick. I’m so upset. I’m so cranky.”
“Do you wanna go home?”
“God, no.”

For the first time in my life, I had a weekend off from work. It’s technically the third time, but the first time I took a trip to the hills, and the second time I went home for a friend’s wedding, so this is the first time I was in Delhi to enjoy a weekend off from work. I spent Saturday mostly cleaning my house because I was hosting a small party later that evening. It was a lot more fun than I’d expected it to be, and on several occasions I was worried that some neighbour would ring the bell and ask us to keep the voice down.

Today, I mostly slept and ate the leftover pizza, fought with my mother on Mother’s Day, refused to call her back to apologize, and watched NH10 for the first time. I am scared of that movie. I have nothing else to say for it at the moment.

I don’t want to go to work tomorrow. This sentiment came at least 18 months into my first job. Here, it took five months. I’m really hoping this is temporary because of what’s happening in office, otherwise I’m screwed.

I’ve joined dance classes. I don’t know what I was thinking. Actually, I do. I needed something, other than work, to focus on. And apparently panting during the first 10 minutes of a dance class while college students hop around me was it.

Cried for the first time in the new office today. First time in five months. That’s certainly an improvement from my previous job, but I didn’t expect it to happen here. I’ve been wondering for a few days. Is it me, or them? Does everyone suck, or do I fall into the same sucky patterns everywhere?

Is lasagna code for something?

My best friend from school left the country this morning to live her (hopefully) happy married life. I’d known this was going to happen for years, but when she called this morning, half an hour before her flight was taking off, I wanted to cry. It could be because I’d just woken up from a night of 10-hour sleep after two sleepless nights, or because I hadn’t been able to talk to her properly for the last one week, but I think the real reason was that she was, simply, going so far away. Now when I go home I won’t be able to see her.

***

Speaking of home, I’m going to Jaipur day after tomorrow for the weekend for a friend’s wedding. It’s nothing to do with my stand on marriage anymore, but I think I’ve started to hate friends’ weddings because they’re taking away all my vacation days. I’m also a little worried about the parents’ reaction to a few things that I don’t want to think about right now, but won’t be able to escape there.

***

Work was, simply put, hell last week. It gave me flashbacks from my old job, and that is never a good thing. I spent some time trying to understand if it’s me, if I give out the doormat vibe sometimes, but I don’t think so. I will have to figure this out if I see a repeat of last week happening again, because there is a reason I quit my last job. And, as predicted, on a regular basis my work has tripled because I got a promotion. Can someone please give me tips on how to run a team and how to be a boss of, like, three people? I don’t feel equipped to handle this kind of responsibility.

***

I went out with my journalism school friends last week, and it was a nice chill dinner with a lot of grown-up talk, like marriage (duh) and grocery shopping. Two years ago we’d have laughed if one of us had suggested going to The Big Chill instead of having a low-key house party. Now, some of us are trying to quit cigarettes and some of us are trying to quit each other.

My best friend from back home was in town last weekend and stayed with me for a bit. Not only did we have an insane amount of fun, but she also cooked enough food for me to last three days. Which basically means that I am sorted till I go home, then when I go home my mother will send food, and I don’t have to cook anything for at least 10 days now. This is a blessing.

***

The way my day started, I’m not surprised I ended it by crying on the sofa while watching One Day on TV. If someone ever asks me to describe my 20s, I’d ask them to read this book. Please read it if you haven’t already.

***

The line in the title of this post was said in the context of The Boy, but what do I say about him that I haven’t already said in the last few years? I really, really hate being this cliché. 

February updates

I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without blogging since I started nine years ago. But I guess a new job will do that to you. My responsibilities are increasing, and yesterday I felt like I was in an episode of Suits, because I didn’t expect this workplace to be so cut-throat or stressful. Turns out, every single workplace is stressful, so we’re all doomed. I have to do something before the 15th, failing which, I’m in deep shit at work. But let’s not think about that right now.

The reason I could find the time, and inclination, to blog today is because I came home this morning. This is the first time I’ve come back to Jaipur after moving out again, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but I wasn’t hit by any overwhelming emotions while coming home from the airport. Sitting at this desk, where I spent almost all my time on this laptop planning my escape, I only feel a dull sense of something, not loss exactly, but that could be because I haven’t slept well all week. After I reached home, I was in bed and out for four hours. I guess that says something about home, even if I try to dismiss that concept these days.

The updates are far too many, so subheads it shall be.

Work

Is fine. Like I said, I don’t know why I expected it to be easier this time around. It’s definitely easier than my previous job in some ways, but it still drains me. And this deadline till the 15th is pissing me off, more than anything else, because it’s not very fair. Other than that, I think I’m doing okay, the people are nice, the place is nice, but it’s still work, and I’ve come to understand that it’s very rarely fulfilling. Some friends tell me it’s a dream job when I write on something particular, but I think I’ve established that that term is an illusion.

House

Continues to challenge me. I’d be going around thinking everything is fine and then suddenly something will stop working. Living alone is great, but sometimes I really want a flatmate around just to get shit fixed. I bought a few things for the house, hung up some fairy lights and made a Tumblr collage on a wall to make it feel like home. It does, on some days. But on some days, it’s still just a house.

Friends

Are assholes. I’m not even kidding. I guess this is payback for being a horrible friend during my last couple of years in my previous job, but my friends have disappointed me so much in the last few weeks. That makes it sound like I need to get off my high horse, and maybe I do, but I swear I’m not overreacting. I know everybody has problems, I know you can’t always talk about them even with your closest friends, but please be an adult and BE THERE. You’re not the only one who’s feeling lost. A friend told me the other day that I need to give up on such friends, understand that someone might be my oldest friend and still ditch me. That made me so sad. Adult friendship is a bitch.

Social life

Is thriving. I’ve taken my oath to not let this job take over my social life very seriously, which might explain why I go out so much and spend an insane amount of money on cabs and extra-sweet mocktails. But at least friends have fewer complaints that way and I am not completely cut off from everyone, just going to work and coming back the next day. But I need to go to more events, like festivals and stuff. I feel like I need to somehow see more of Delhi.

Parents

Are aggressively looking for a groom for me. I don’t even know how to explain this. I’ve had so many conversations with so many people about why and how I am okay with arranged marriage. I am not, but I don’t hate the idea either. Or so I thought. Plus I needed them to stop worrying, so I said 'fine, start looking'. I don’t think I’ve been part of a more dehumanizing process before. It’s a market, and you really, truly understand it when it starts happening to you. An older cousin, who’s been going through the same thing for years, has been telling me to not react to everything, to pick my battles. But it’s so difficult to do that when all I want to do is scream every time my father calls.

I didn’t even want to come home today, because I was worried shaadi is all we would talk about. My mother mentioned a rishta within 30 minutes of me walking into the house. I think my face stopped her from mentioning more. But I was so homesick in Delhi, and it’s one of my best friends’ wedding, so I couldn’t not come to Jaipur.

That’s the other thing. I know everyone thinks that all of their friends are getting married right now, but mine literally are. I’ve attended two weddings in the last three months, I’m here for this one, and then I’m invited to two more in the next two months. And these are all close friends. So perhaps that freaks out my parents even more? Twenty-six is not the end. Fifty-six is not the end either. I know we keep talking about how to teach our children about feminism, but sometimes I feel like we need to give a few lessons to our parents as well.

Adulting

Is a myth. Or is it? I wouldn't know because I have been failing at it for almost a month now. The first couple of months were okay, but in February, I really let myself go. I stopped cooking, I started eating out a lot, which then affected my weight and skin and everything I had worked very hard for during my sabbatical. I haven’t slept for more than four hours every night in two weeks, and that’s because I can’t seem to go to sleep before 3 or 4, and then I’m running late in the morning and I can’t concentrate at work and it’s all just downhill from there. The other day I had to get a massage for two thousand bucks because my body was killing me. I really, really need to step it up. I just don’t know how.

TV

Keeps me sane. The discovery of the year so far has been Veep. Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ face after every disaster in Veep gives me life. Now I kinda understand why she kept beating Amy Poehler at the Emmy awards every year, but I still wanted Leslie Knope to win at least once. Also, I’ve come to understand that I love shows where people screw up repeatedly at work, or even in general. It gives me hope about my life.

Another revelation was Friday Night Lights. I think I watched four seasons in a week (which accounts for why I stayed up till 4am on some days), and there are just so many emotions in that show. If you like soapy shows, like Parenthood or Grey’s, you should watch it.

I’ve also started watching Crazy Ex-Girlfriend on TV. I think I’m in love with Rachel Bloom.

Books

Are the major reason I can live alone and be okay with it. But – and I feel like I’ve been saying this a lot – I NEED a book that will change my life. Like One Day did, or The Sky is Everywhere, or We Need to Talk About Kevin. You by Caroline Kepnes did that for a while last month (you should read it and get freaked out, too), and I was haunted by it for weeks afterwards. Its sequel is out so that should carry me through this month. But I still need more. I’m reading The Palace of Illusions right now, and it’s not as engaging as everyone told me it would be.

Life

Is okay. It could have been much worse, and I’m definitely not depressed like I was towards the end of my previous job. But sometimes I really regret taking up this job so soon. I think my sabbatical ended too quickly and I could have still been chilling at home. Or maybe that’s just my laziness talking? Because if I were still at home, this shaadi stuff would have been that much more irritating. So, I guess it all worked out? 

But I really feel like I need to do something crazy. Not hooking up with the wrong person crazy or yelling at the boss crazy. Something that gives me a rush. Like bungee jumping. Um, I don't know where that came from.

I don’t want to stop blogging, because the other day I read a year’s worth of my old posts at 2am and then messaged some questionable things to someone. You need that kind of wake-up call sometimes. You need to see how far you’ve come, and how far you still have to go.

Birthday week

In between going out every five days and worrying about my parents getting old after I heard some distressing news from friends, I got a tattoo. It’s one thing off my bucket list, possibly the hardest after ‘kiss a stranger’, and I still wake up every morning checking to make sure it’s still there.

It’s my birthday gift to myself, because I haven’t forgotten that I’m turning 26 in five days. 

In other news, I’m officially in the marriage market and work is about to get super stressful. Ah, birthday week. 

30 days of Delhi

I spent my weekend watching three movies that I always avoid because they make me cry. Which is my way of saying that I spent my weekend crying. I seem to be some kind of a specialized masochist.

I’m finally settling down in the new routine of my new life, but I still miss my sabbatical immensely. The new house is very grown-up, and has almost everything. But that’s a reflection of how thoughtful my parents are. They were here the weekend I moved, and helped set up everything. Since then, I’ve been trying not to turn this into a pigsty, but there are days when it starts to resemble one. Every now and then, some or the other issue comes up, and I spend my days waiting for the repairmen to come and fix things. It’s not even a surprise anymore when they say that they’ll come at 11 and turn up at 4. I’m trying to say yes to most social invitations I receive, because I’m worried about going back to my old ways. But because of this, today is the first holiday where I didn’t have to go out or meet someone or do something. So far, I’ve met friends, went for dinners, watched movies and gone on one pub crawl. I also threw a little party at my place for friends from journalism school. It’s was fun, mostly. At least until I was left alone with just one of them and things went from bad to worse. I also met a blog friend recently, and it continues to amaze me how such great friendships started online because of my weird alter ego.

The most exceptional part of this entire month, however, has been the fact that I’m cooking. Or at least I’m trying to. Most days I am either too tired to cook, or too frustrated from my failed attempts to try again, so I order in. I now know a great place to order every kind of cuisine around my house. This is worrisome, and has to change. The other worrisome thing is how much money I seem to have spent in the last one month. I’m afraid to look at my bank statement because the number might give me a heart attack. I guess the scenes we thought were exaggerated for comic relief in chick flicks have some basis in reality, then. What am I spending all this money on, you ask. Oh, I don’t know. Dinners, birthday presents for colleagues, Secret Santa presents and Body Shop.

Work has been… interesting. I got my first scolding yesterday, but I shouldn’t have. Other than that, I’m still trying to find my place there. I spend all the time I’m awake in front of my laptop, so I’m getting very worried about my eyes. I may miss some things about my old job, but I don’t really miss it.

There’s still so much to do, so much of Delhi left to rediscover, but something’s amiss. I can’t figure out what it is. So until I can, I will continue to sit at home, and not change the channel when One Day, The Time Traveller’s Wife or Marley and Me comes on.

Delhi 2.0

I don’t think my brain has reset its settings to Delhi yet, because I feel like I’m doing everything in a bit of a daze. But that’s probably because I’m still living with relatives, and a friend almost always accompanies me to work in the morning. My parents are going to be here in six days for a couple of days, so homesickness hasn’t kicked in either.

The new workplace is interesting. The setup is very different from my old job, and that will take some serious getting used to, but the people seem nice and it seems like if I can learn how to write well while being pelted with entertaining but often unnecessary information from all sides, I’ll do well here. I’m still mostly quiet at work, because I haven't figured out who I'm supposed to be here. I haven’t been the new girl anywhere in ages, and I was so used to being the baby, the mean girl, the fantastic untouchable over-achieving genius at my old workplace that I don’t know how to be okay with being the person who doesn’t know anything. But of course I don’t know anything and I don’t have much time to learn the ropes, so gotta pull up my socks.

And then, of course, if I can just get my writing mojo back, everything will be fine. But there’s no way of knowing how soon, if at all, that will happen.

I watched Tamasha last night and it was okay. It was beautifully shot and I wanted to go to Corsica, but I don’t understand or agree with all these raving reviews about how it’s such a realistic portrayal of a modern-day love story. Maybe I don’t know what love looks like anymore?

I need to see my friends. Soon. Maybe then I’ll feel like I’m back.