The only thing I didn't like about my very first massage (my first ever, can you believe it?) was having to wear that stupid disposable underwear they give you. Being one of those one-size-fits-all things and considering I'm not the largest size that can fit into them, it had me looking like a baby in diapers. I'd rather have worn nothing. And the guy Bipin was a lot stronger than he looked. Had me in a fair bit of pain he did, but at the end of 60 minutes it felt bludy great. I still don't know why he started off by kneading my bum cheeks for a good ten minutes, but considering it is the single largest muscle in the body I reckoned he knew what he was doing. Good stuff this Swedish massage, thinking I'll get one every month. Oh and Bipin did compliment me on how strong my back and shoulders were, so he's my man.

Many people said it's too expensive (1,700 bucks for a Swedish massage at the Four Fountains) but the way I see it, it's a lot more value for money than pigging out in some restaurant just to shit it all away the next day.

***

We've become a generation that loves to eat, shop and holiday. Most conversations tend to center around one of the three. Which is why I find myself quite alienated from most of my colleagues and friends -- because I can't bludy eat all the time, don't have the patience to shop even if it's online, and can't afford to go on holiday to all those fancy damn places where you get ripped off clean or otherwise have to spend two months researching the best deals in order not to. It's tiring, it's a pain.

So I prefer being home. And just doing my thing. I love my one hour in the gym every morning and my swim on Sundays, my Scotch before dinner (no more desi daaru), the weekend motorcycle rides, hanging out with the boys (or the occasional girl), the quiet life. But this evening I got a call from a friend who is in the music business asking if I'd like to get back into that. I was hesitant at first but then I thought what the hell, if nothing else at least I have an excuse to start playing/practicing again.

Peace, love, and a rub the right way!

Guy at work had this to say about the 'gender diversity' so many companies are promoting like there's no tomorrow: Women who work full time will either have fertility issues or give birth to unhealthy babies who will grow up to be sick children and weak adults. They, like their parents before them, will also either be infertile or have kids who are even more unhealthy than they were, finally resulting in the end of the human race. And so women should stay at home and have healthy babies and perfect their culinary skills so that said babies grow up well fed, rough and tough and the human race can flourish for another ten thousand years.

There's just one problem I told him: What about the men?

***

Gender diversity or no gender diversity, one thing is for sure - our lifestyle is killing us. Killing us softly with no bludy song! And all that talk about work-life balance is humbug. You must work till you have no life left is what it is.

And with that I call it a night. Or a day. Whatever, it hardly makes a difference.

Over the years I have become this sponge that has absorbed so much of other people's life experiences that I have created very few of my own. Which is not to say it has been a completely futile exercise, but a sponge sometime or the other must release what it has absorbed. That is its purpose.   

But the experiences I create must be my own. The though of replicating what I have seen in others is depressing and quite pointless. I cannot be one of those people who fit themselves into a mould: nice house, car, husband/wife, kids, job, life. The perks of the rat race. The perks that are such a great and blinding attraction, people forget how much they have to give up to earn them.         

Which is why I find myself such a misfit. Which is why I need to get out. And go somewhere else.

***

What is it like to have nothing? What is it like to be no one? In a time when everybody wants to be somebody and have it all, this is the question I ask. You never really know until you hit rock bottom. And there I think comes the greatest learning of who you really are. Which is something the rest of us couldn't be bothered with because we have quite happily let others decide that for us. 

***

And so begins a new journey of sorts. Where it will lead me I do not know. But what I do know is that I have very little time. I tried so hard and so long to get on the bus that I didn't see it was the wrong one in the first place.   

Peace, love and late realizations.   

For my brother J

this life is but a dream
until death wakes you up

The Lunchbox is no cinematic masterpiece, but it does get you thinking. About having nothing vs. seemingly having it all. And about support systems. And what it means to have one. And about what happens when that support system disappears one day, or simply comes crashing down. Like when Ila smells another woman's perfume on her husband's shirt as she does the laundry one afternoon. The husband she is so completely devoted to.

And yet you have to make yourself vulnerable sometimes. You have to take that chance. But that will leave you exposed. Which is why a defence mechanism or a survival tactic is just as important as a support system.

***

I don't believe there is anybody who has life all figured out. They may have it all worked out, which is not the same and can lead to confusion sometimes. And disappointment. And frustration. And worry. When things don't quite work out.

Too many ands.   

***

We all have our past. And things we are not proud of. But is it worth even thinking about it? It there any point analysing what went wrong and wondering if there was indeed something you could have done to make it right? Because life doesn't allow us any edits. Start a new chapter and move on. Whoever has to read will read.

For R. Nothing is lost till you stop looking.

If you must knock
on my door, Love,
make sure you have
the right house first.

You can go
out of your mind.
Just don't be seen leaving.

I think the first step towards coming to terms with your life and finding that peace that is all so necessary in these wretchedly crazy times we live in, is realizing it's not about you. Odd as it may sound to some people, nothing is about you. And you are nothing.

Is it the loneliness
or more the longing?

Heyy, is this a good time to talk?

Hmmm, yeah I guess.

Listen, I am sorry about last night. I was just being stupid. It's just ... I am so confused. You know how it is na?

Yeah.

Anyway, I was thinking we should continue where we left off. I love you Dudu and I want this to work.

Well...

Well, what? I thought we were on the same page here. Oh God, why do you do this? I can't go through all of this again. We've talked about this!

Yeah.

And why are you talking in monosyllables?

I ... I think

Ok forget it, I know what you're going to say. Are we meeting for lunch? My phone is out of charge, I'm calling from Sakshi's.

Umm...

Dude, what's the matter with you?

Listen I'm sorry but I think you have the...

Shit!! I called a wrong number? Bastard!!

***

Sigh! Could have been the start of a beautiful friendship. But seriously, what guy wants to be called Dudu? Dump him I say. Or maybe he should dump her. If he hasn't already after last night!

Joss Sone - Right to be wrong. Happy Sunday.