Of the winding up and starting anew - Update 1
I'm back (sooner than i promised) from my self-imposed blog-ban, into the familiar old territory of online journals, pictures sites, wikipedia and all that the lovely Internet has to offer.
It's been crazy past two month but i have absolutely enjoyed every bit of it. Never before have I experienced so many changes in such rapid succession. There are in fact distinct phases or chapters, all over the last 60 days. I quit my job, shopped like crazy, got married, had a 10 day celebration with 2 poojas, 2 receptions, and many many other events, visited 5 cities in 10 days, left Bombay for good, and settled down in Hyderabad (Hyd, from now on). All of this, is what I’m going to write about today… not with the intent of writing an entertaining/ informative/ philosophical post, but merely as a record of events and emotions I have experienced in the course of this wild ride.
So this promises to be a long post, and a boring one really, unless if you would for some reason like to read a detailed report of a fantastic girl's trip from miss-cool-professional to mrs-efficient-housewife...
It's been crazy past two month but i have absolutely enjoyed every bit of it. Never before have I experienced so many changes in such rapid succession. There are in fact distinct phases or chapters, all over the last 60 days. I quit my job, shopped like crazy, got married, had a 10 day celebration with 2 poojas, 2 receptions, and many many other events, visited 5 cities in 10 days, left Bombay for good, and settled down in Hyderabad (Hyd, from now on). All of this, is what I’m going to write about today… not with the intent of writing an entertaining/ informative/ philosophical post, but merely as a record of events and emotions I have experienced in the course of this wild ride.
So this promises to be a long post, and a boring one really, unless if you would for some reason like to read a detailed report of a fantastic girl's trip from miss-cool-professional to mrs-efficient-housewife...
There, I’m done with the disclaimers. If you’re still reading, thank you. For your convenience, and in an attempt to give some structure to my own thoughts, I’m dividing the whole epic into chapters. And maybe, I will only write about 1 or 2 chapters today. Maybe I’ll write chapter 3 and 4 soon. Maybe you’ll come back. Hopefully you will. If not, I will still write. Here we go:
Chapter 1: From one all-consuming phase to another. From work, to marriage.
There are jobs and there are jobs and there is qualitative research. And there are people and there are people and then there is me. I'm not quite sure which of the two were responsible for the madness that was my work and work-style for half a decade, but regardless of that, the fact was that as long as I had that job, there was no chance of fitting anything else into my schedule or mind-space. And so one thing I had known for years was that when it came to the getting married, without a doubt I would have to (want to) quit the job; regardless of whether the marriage needed me to change cities or not.
And so when time came to bite the bullet, it was easy. Anyway, how hard could quitting one's job be, after all? Isn't it what we all dream about...flinging the resig letter in the boss's face, showing the finger to the system, getting out before getting burnt out? Yes, maybe, but then again, remember I told you – this is quali research we’re talking about, and me. I was the quintessential sucker for punishment. I felt responsible for the place and the work. I loved the work. I loved the people i worked with (most, not all) and worked for. Not the quantum of work (and surely not Quantum. Lol...inside joke - please ignore), but the work definitely. I... was as good as married to the job. So there.
The smart thing I did however… one of the smartest I have ever done in fact, was to quit when i did – a month before the wedding - giving myself enough time to get over the withdrawal symptoms of work, and to prepare mentally and otherwise (whatever you may imagine 'otherwise' be) for the wedding. Gave me the chance to spend some quality time with mom and dad (and of course with my precious li'll Tasha), and to generally get a feel of what it feels like to be unemployed.
Unaccustomed to having any free time, let aside so much, I cannot express in words how much I relished the change, loving the chores that would seem mundane, even terribly boring to the average person…like driving mom around in the car, buying myself coffee and sipping on it with the window rolled down and my elbow jutting out of it, while waiting for her to finish buying/ ordering whatever she had to. For all my love for my work, I hardly missed it. The people yes, the work no. The tension and pressure and stress – most definitely not.
The gym dream took form and though i couldn't achieve my target of getting the most fab beach body for the HM, what with a little bit of chubby around the waist refusing to tone up, it was still very satisfying to work out as much as i did, and be in the shape that i was in at the time of the wedding. (I say 'was' because already i see that shape going and the little double chin coming back...oh noo!!!). Anyway, i believe boys like their girls a little chubby... more cuddly and all that. So..
The best part of it was that nothing really got left for the last minute... the preparations happened pretty much in time, and by the time it was time for the celebrations to begin, i was done with all that was expected of me, and there was no scurrying around, as i have seen happen with some of my friends.
Chapter 1: From one all-consuming phase to another. From work, to marriage.
There are jobs and there are jobs and there is qualitative research. And there are people and there are people and then there is me. I'm not quite sure which of the two were responsible for the madness that was my work and work-style for half a decade, but regardless of that, the fact was that as long as I had that job, there was no chance of fitting anything else into my schedule or mind-space. And so one thing I had known for years was that when it came to the getting married, without a doubt I would have to (want to) quit the job; regardless of whether the marriage needed me to change cities or not.
And so when time came to bite the bullet, it was easy. Anyway, how hard could quitting one's job be, after all? Isn't it what we all dream about...flinging the resig letter in the boss's face, showing the finger to the system, getting out before getting burnt out? Yes, maybe, but then again, remember I told you – this is quali research we’re talking about, and me. I was the quintessential sucker for punishment. I felt responsible for the place and the work. I loved the work. I loved the people i worked with (most, not all) and worked for. Not the quantum of work (and surely not Quantum. Lol...inside joke - please ignore), but the work definitely. I... was as good as married to the job. So there.
The smart thing I did however… one of the smartest I have ever done in fact, was to quit when i did – a month before the wedding - giving myself enough time to get over the withdrawal symptoms of work, and to prepare mentally and otherwise (whatever you may imagine 'otherwise' be) for the wedding. Gave me the chance to spend some quality time with mom and dad (and of course with my precious li'll Tasha), and to generally get a feel of what it feels like to be unemployed.
Unaccustomed to having any free time, let aside so much, I cannot express in words how much I relished the change, loving the chores that would seem mundane, even terribly boring to the average person…like driving mom around in the car, buying myself coffee and sipping on it with the window rolled down and my elbow jutting out of it, while waiting for her to finish buying/ ordering whatever she had to. For all my love for my work, I hardly missed it. The people yes, the work no. The tension and pressure and stress – most definitely not.
The gym dream took form and though i couldn't achieve my target of getting the most fab beach body for the HM, what with a little bit of chubby around the waist refusing to tone up, it was still very satisfying to work out as much as i did, and be in the shape that i was in at the time of the wedding. (I say 'was' because already i see that shape going and the little double chin coming back...oh noo!!!). Anyway, i believe boys like their girls a little chubby... more cuddly and all that. So..
The best part of it was that nothing really got left for the last minute... the preparations happened pretty much in time, and by the time it was time for the celebrations to begin, i was done with all that was expected of me, and there was no scurrying around, as i have seen happen with some of my friends.
In case you got the impression that all i did was sit at home and get pretty, you couldn't be more wrong. I really worked hard. There was an amazing amount of shopping. Don't believe me? We bought clothes for me, sis, bro, mom, dad, hubby, his parents, rest-of-the-family, my aunts, uncles, cousins; linen, presents, decorations, shoes, accessories, gold stuff, and never ending blah blah blah. Visiting the decorator, the caterers, wedding invite-makers, tailors (ohh....soooo many trips to the tailor!!!), photographer, dentist, sweet-makers, beauty-parlour, hair-stylists, etc etc etc. So you see, i put my feet up and rested when i could, but i also worked hard for my wedding, and that i think went a long way in making the experience as sweet as it turned out eventually.
Chapter 2a: Getting used to the idea of getting married - The general stuff
Now, i don't know how it is with everyone else, but i'm not one of those women who, as hindi movies make us believe, have spent a good deal of their childhood and teenage 'fantasizing' about their wedding day...about a fairytale event with all the necessary ingredients - the princess bride, a princely groom, picture-perfect settings etc etc. I mean, do such women exist? I really don't believe so, but like i said, if so many hindi movies harp on endlessly about them, then perhaps they're a sizeable population. Well, with all due respect to them, i'm most definitely not one of them.
I had never given a thought to what my wedding would be like, let aside build an entire mountain of expectations about how it ought to be. Having said that, i confess that as the day got closer, i did get anxious and even excited...and spent a lot of time thinking about how I would like it to be. There – I was wishing for all the same stuff – a lovely wedding... nice decorations, me looking ravishing, hub looking hot, family and guests all looking grand, feeling really happy, the music, the lights, the dancing and singing, the presents, the photos, hugs, kisses and tears...the works.
More than anything else, I wanted my wedding to be great fun, for me and hubby, and for everyone else. My nightmare would’ve been for my wedding to turn into one of those (and so many seem to be that kind) where the groom and bride hardly have any fun (while everyone else does), the parents look and are haggard with exhaustion and frenzy, and the guests care not half as much for the wedding as for the free booze and food.
When I thought about such negative stuff, I made myself sick with worry. When I thought positive, I felt sick with anxiety that i was gonna jinx it. You know, the whole 'buri nazar' thingie. Evil eye...etc etc. Or that i'd build up my expectations so high they couldn't...wouldn't be met, and then i'd feel dejected. That is how I’d nip my daydreaming in the bud, and get me crashing back on to the hard ground, feeling sheepish, almost stupid about my excitement. And that is how it went... like a roller coaster, i went from dreamy, heady high, to practical, pretentious pious, to mopey miserable.
Chapter 2b: Getting used to the idea of getting married – About leaving Bombay
Having to leave Bombay hadn't seemed like a big deal initially...in fact i don't think i had really given it a serious thought when i agreed to the marriage.
But slowly as it started sinking in, it started to scare me, and how. This was Bombay...the only place i really knew, had some roots in, and truly loved. No doubt, the worst city to live in, but heck, that was for other people to say. For me, it meant the world…the best place to have a home in. Little things started becoming the big things... the view of the sea (dirty shirty no problem), the humid air (good for the skin and hair, really), the ease and comfort of the familiarity with the place, people and its culture, the bindaas, the chilled-out, the devil-may-care, the MOYB, the now-prudish-now-liberal, now-caring-now-apathetic, the safe-as-hell-for-women city. And all those clichéd titles too – the maximum city, the city that never sleeps (though it does actually – from 2 to 4 am), the city of dreams and so on. But to sum it all, if there was one, and only one thing the city meant (means) to me – it was (is) freedom. Bombay is the city…the only city that lets you be. Accepts you as you are.
The late night parties and the worry-free midnight-cab-ride-home, the freedom, the security, the food, the lingo, the one-step-ahead-ness, the everything-available-anytime-anywhere-ness', the sobo-vs-burbs-barbs, the cool quotient, the imagery associations, the pride of being a bombay-girl - it all began to matter so much that it made me cry and that made me angry - as much as fiancé as at myself.
At him, for being the reason i'd to get uprooted, leave my little world and move to a new, unfamiliar, uncool place; and at me - for not thinking it through earlier, for not weighing the pros-n-cons, and also for now being shallow, for refusing to look at the brighter side of leaving bombay, and for being a frog-in-the-well.
It all got pretty bad – with tearful outbursts and ‘don’t-wanna-get-married’ tantrums more than once, with mom getting annoyed, sis getting annoyed, friends getting exasperated, and me myself getting really tired of myself being moody all the time. And then all on its own, it got ok.
I guess, somewhere there was an defeated acceptance of the fact that I was exaggerating. Making a mountain of...well...not a molehill, but say - of a smaller mountain. After all, every ending is the beginning of something else, and things usually happen for the better. Here i was getting married to the man i chose to marry, and there was every reason to be happy. And so I made peace with myself, made it better for me, and I survived the pre-marital blues.
It all got pretty bad – with tearful outbursts and ‘don’t-wanna-get-married’ tantrums more than once, with mom getting annoyed, sis getting annoyed, friends getting exasperated, and me myself getting really tired of myself being moody all the time. And then all on its own, it got ok.
I guess, somewhere there was an defeated acceptance of the fact that I was exaggerating. Making a mountain of...well...not a molehill, but say - of a smaller mountain. After all, every ending is the beginning of something else, and things usually happen for the better. Here i was getting married to the man i chose to marry, and there was every reason to be happy. And so I made peace with myself, made it better for me, and I survived the pre-marital blues.
With a little help from my friends.
In the next post : The wedding day arrives and along with it a whole troop of relatives. The ceremonies begin and so do the daily song and dance. A bride who's running late, a groom who's a stikler for punctuality, an assortment of friends, a dance challenge, the almost ruined decorations at the venue, and lots more.
In the next post : The wedding day arrives and along with it a whole troop of relatives. The ceremonies begin and so do the daily song and dance. A bride who's running late, a groom who's a stikler for punctuality, an assortment of friends, a dance challenge, the almost ruined decorations at the venue, and lots more.
Posted by Pixychik at 1:28 AM
8 Reasons to smile
