Breathing and Living in the not-so-yet-so- urbane way

I am not a starfish anymore.

I remind myself every night relentlessly as the moonlight seeps in through the cement stained windows. Fighting back the stupor crawling involuntarily into my body, I shift and fidget about until that "Ouch!" strikes. 

Sleeping on a bunker is more or less like sleeping in an elevated crib. But the steel bars end up bruising you (at least me) apart from fulfilling their conventional purpose of guarding you against a miserable fall. 

“Freaking shit, its 7 already!”, I croak every morning( except that I don’t say freaking) clutching the damned steel rods as I descend down my bed, simultaneously trying to get hold of my glasses, hairband, cellphone, water bottle, blinds and million other things that  nap with me indolently.

Jo walks in through the door, with her flip flops flapping against the floor, the bucket trailing behind. Akansha’s phone keeps ringing wildly and mind is battling against the deep urge to throw at her, the heaviest thing that my hands can get a hold of..Probably Jo’s bucket, if she would let me do the honour . But seeing akrati didi sprawled up in her sheets sleeping like a little baby in a “Bhag Milkha bhag” pose , the feeling vanishes..I wake Aishu up, practically drag her out of the bed, and march down for breakfast. Finally, after getting ready, while walking beneath the blazing hot “Chennai” sun( as I call it) having the power to ruin the 17 years of sweat and cash my mom spent on lotions, facemasks and homeopathy, I search for reasons..

A million reasons to hate Chennai.. To despise the very chunk of earth I was standing on..But in vain.,

I knew I was loving every bit of it, relishing the scorching heat, the musky scents, the dust pollution and even the tiny beads of perspiration gliding smoothly down my back. And then the question pops up…

Why?

I have never lived in Chennai. I missed my mom..Her oil smeared dosais with onion-tomato chutney and molagaipodi, the perfume of her medimix soap followed by fair & lovely and the way she keenly listened to my long screeching concerts, the old spb and ilayaraja songs playing in the kitchen, her bhajanais and the murungakais in her vattakozhambu..I missed all that..Yet, I didn’t hate Chennai.

Did I miss Tarapur? Though I badly wanted to, I couldn’t. It was the place where I scribbled my first alphabets,sang my first song, played my first game,got my first bruise, and had my last success. I remember my childhood, trudging in mud, playing with Barbie, plucking berries from trees, dancing on gulmohar’s flower beds, those  empty lanes flanked with ashoka trees ,singing and freaking out the snoozing watchmen and listening to the random melodious tunes in which the birds chirped. I just remembered…I couldn’t yet miss it..

What is so special about Chennai, you ask?

Everything. This is where my father was born, my mamas got married, my cousins studied, and everything. But what connection do I have with Chennai? After all, it was Trichy’s air that I had first inhaled as a baby to burst into tears. Where did Chennai come into the picture?

I love everything about Chennai. I am inadvertently drawn to every single element of this suburb. From the climate, the bustling crowd, the random cinema posters parked across lanes, the way winds drummed against my cheeks, the refreshing fragrance of “malligai poo”, to the most significant aspect of it, the people who speak this beautiful “Tamizh” language. They freak out seeing me speak in Tamizh, a pale faced girl sporting a western outfit, which makes it even more amusing. Ahh,the wonderful feeling of being one of a kind, feels somewhat plausible..

So yaa, I pause amidst the crowd walking under the blazing Chennai sun, laugh at Soundie cloaked in a Talibani attire and Shuchu trying to protect her umbrella against the winds and throw my arms open bellowing “Come on ! Make me as ugly as you can.” Soundie gives her dimpled grin, Shuchu nods her head to and fro and we burst out laughing. The blithesome laughter echoes in my head every time I search for more reasons. I don’t mind at all. I would gladly suppress the desire to fling stuff at annoying people, to sew few mouths that speak bitter words and to jeer at the noses always lying high in the air.

Because.. I am in Chennai. This is where I now belong/always belonged.. Ahh, the wonderful feeling of being as snug as a bug in a rug… I get it here…

One million candy cables

Relationship.. When I was little, I used to feel that this word conveyed something very profound. Something that had to be rigorously maintained and kept to word like some sort of a pinky promise. Something related to blood-and-kin. It was only later that I realized that a relationship is nothing but a bond. A bond between two hearts. Dim-witted as the statement sounds, most of us are oblivious of the fact that bonds are not that easily formed.

How do you know you are actually connected to someone? When you close your eyes and realize that you actually "give a damn" as to what they do, when your heart glows in their jubilance and aches in their woes, when a prayer touches your lips whenever you think of the hard time they are going through and when you feel unhappy as they seek disappointment in their endeavors. That's when you know that you are connected. But still, we tend to cloak our genuine affection in a false garb of kinship. In that way, loving your chacha-chachi-foofa-foofi becomes a duty. Which reduces a relationship to a mere duty, which it certainly isn't.

There's a dialogue from the show "The Big Bang Theory" that I find really humorous. It is a conversation between Penny and Leonard. 

Penny: How did Raj and Howard become friends with Sheldon?

Leonard: I don't know! How do carbon atoms form a benzene ring? Proximity and valence electrons.

Listening to it makes me giggle and wish relationships were that simple. In my life, every relationship is unique and nourishing  in its own way. From my baby cousin who asks me earnestly, "Does a shark eat an octopus or does an octopus eat a shark?" to the biggies who ask with concern, "What do you plan to pursue in your life?", everyone means a lot to me and I can't even imagine my life without them.

                                                        Life is topsy-turvy. Some people enter your life like a tornado and surprisingly end up pacifying and stabilizing it instead. They teach you to deal with rejection and encourage you to brush the dust off and begin afresh. People who have "been there and done that", stand by your side, making sure you take up the right track. Some choose to be brutally honest and some prefer not to demoralize you. You always have a shoulder to cry on, a hand to tickle you to laughter, a finger to wipe your tears, a shadow that walks side by side and a voice that says "I will love you no matter what". 

So, what is a relationship actually? It is something that stands unbattered against the blows of time, distance and misunderstandings. A relationship is fabric knitted with love and embroidered with experiences, good and bad. Pulling out a single thread has the potential to dismantle the entire fabric but it can always be woven back as long as the love remains. 

Always give your relationships the highest priority, never prioritize them. Whether it's your disobedient puppy or an annoying aunt or some Parnani-ki-bhanji-ka-pota, cherish every relationship that has made you feel blessed. 

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