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.

How long would you wait for someone you love?

I’ve stayed away from this blog for close to four months now, so I’m banking on no one reading this, which is why I’m trying to revive it with this very telling tag.

1. If your lover betrayed you what would your reaction be?
When I was 17, my then boyfriend did cheat on me. It took me a really long time to get over the incident, but not so much the person. I think that was when I internalized that I will be heavily penalized for all my mistakes, because I’d technically ‘stolen’ that boyfriend from another girl. It’s an old, complicated story.

2. If you could have one dream come true which one would it be?
To be able to write and novel and get it published. It needs to do decently well, too. If it’s forgotten or dismissed, I don’t know how I’d deal with that.

3. Whose butt would you like to kick?
At this point, probably my own.

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
Give half of it to my parents, and Eat Pray Love the shit out of the other half.

5. Will you fall in love with your best friend?
No

6. Which is more blessed: loving someone or being loved by someone?
Being loved. I sincerely hope that the phase of loving and pining is now behind me.

7. How long would you wait for someone you love?
Not very long

8. If the person you like is secretly attached, what would you do?
Get over him. I don’t do unavailable anymore.

9. If you could root for one social cause which one would it be?
Feminism

10. What takes you down the fastest?
Nostalgia and some of my old blog posts.

11. Where do you see yourself in 10 years' time?
Writing my second book and/or not whining about my job.

12. What's your fear?
That I will keep repeating the same mistakes.

13. What kind of person(s) do you think the person who tagged you is/are?
I tagged myself, so I guess... narcissistic?

14. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
Single and rich

15. What is the first thing you do when you wake up?
Check my phone

16. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously who would you pick?
I’d like to say I’ll pick the more sorted guy, but I think I’ll choose the more dramatic relationship. For reference, see the Derek-Meredith-Finn triangle from Grey’s.

17. Would you give all in a relationship?
I’m not a fan of giving all in any relationship, so no.

18. What's eating you now?
My seeming directionless career and my health issues.

19. Do you prefer being single or in a relationship?
This is a dumb question.

20. Tag 6 people...
If you’re reading this and you want to take it up, please go for it. If not, I wouldn’t be surprised.

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.”

I can’t believe this is happening again. I’ve only been in Delhi for five months, and already everything that I’d tried so hard to fix in the few months before that, is crumbling around me. Is this a Delhi thing? Is this a me thing? Why don’t I ever learn? Why don’t things change, even when I try so hard? Why does everything suck so much right now?

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.

Five years (and not counting anymore)

Exactly three nights ago, I ended a five-year-long relationship in the worst possible way. I almost opened my laptop to blog about it then, but decided I was too tired and went to sleep instead. I think that bothers me. Not the break-up, if I can even call it that, but the fact that I didn’t even flinch when I did it. “It’s over. I’m done. This has gone on long enough.” Who says that? When an ex said something similar to me six years ago, I was livid. My friends were furious. How dare he? Where is the compassion? He could have said a thousand different things, why this? So, yes, why this? Because I am a little freaked out by what my parents are planning. Because I really am done, tired, a little irritated. Because we were really stretching it, at this point we had nothing significant to say to each other. I don’t know, they sound like excuses. They probably are. Even today, my friends, even the ones who disapproved from the beginning, say, “But are you sure? You could have given it a shot. How do you know it’s not love?” I just do. It’s not love. It’s not compatibility. It won’t hold up for the rest of our lives. So then what’s the point? I’m a cynic, a pessimist through and through, but even I have to ask that question.