Who, What, Where, When, Why, How

It seems everyone I speak to these days has hit a bit of a wall….not so much a dead-end as an obstacle in the road. On the way to where, though? That’s what is relatively unknown. Why are we doing what we’re doing? Is this really what we’re going to do forever (or at least till retirement beckons)? What else is out there? Is this really all there is to life?

I’ve always found it unbearably pretentious to question the why and how of our existence. Sure, answers would be nice – but we’re here, we’re healthy, we’re loved, we’re happy – we should be grateful. All this “What is the meaning of life” business is best left to philosophers and drunkards at 4 a.m. Of course, they tend to wonder about it on a larger scale. As ever, my musings are more self-involved :)

I’m down with the programme – we’re born, we go to school, we go to college, we get a job, we get married, we have kids, we have grandkids, we shuffle off this mortal coil and people boohoo for a bit until they pop it too, and pretty soon there’s no one left who remembers us. If we’re lucky, we’re memorialized in a family tree some great-great-grandkid will create for a school project, or we’re a name scrawled in a few books handed down in the family. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, because I know that in some small but significant way, there’s a piece of us that gets carried forward in time, and even if it’s not recognized or acknowledged, we definitely lived.

But how did we live? Right now, where I am…I want more. Okay, I’m working, I’m doing an MBA (and I’ll probably do another after this), I have a loving family (touch wood) and an amazing set of friends (thank you). Life is routine – good, but routine. But what am I doing that’s going to leave a mark? Is it egotistical to think I can leave a mark? Is it enough that I attempt to be a good human being (and hopefully, maybe, succeed some of the time)? Is it possible that there’s something more out there? Should I be satisfied with okay when there’s a possibility that amazing is around the corner? What if there’s nothing around the corner?

I think what bothers me more than the status quo is not having any of the answers.

Random Musings on a Sick Day

- Is the world really a better place for beautiful people? Do more doors actually fly open, more red carpets get unfurled, more dollars pour into their bank accounts? Or is it simply that people with a modicum of self-assurance (that may or may not come from beauty) make things happen the way they want, rather than waiting for things to happen to them?

- Ever noticed that the people you love will always be beautiful, no matter what? And the more you get to know them (and the more you learn how amazing they are), the more beautiful they become to you?

- Why so much musing in the beauty vein? I don’t know…I suppose I was indulging in the rather rare occasion where I happened to glance at the mirror for more than 5 minutes, and for the first time since adolescent insecurity faded over a decade ago, I was wondering what people see when they look at me. Is that too self-involved? Um, yeah, actually, it definitely is…but anyway. I had an acquaintance tell me the other day that his friend is in love with me, and my first thought was “Why?” He certainly doesn’t know me well enough to appreciate my completely batty personality, and my looks are nothing to write home about…not bad enough to shatter mirrors, but nowhere near traffic stopping quality. And in a country filled with gorgeous women (most of whom are my friends, and whom I therefore cannot hate, damn my luck and scruples), I sort of pale in comparison…okay face (mouth a bit too broad and lips a bit too pouty and eyes a bit too sleepy), okay figure (leaning far too much towards the curvy end of the spectrum but balanced out, somewhat, by a decent height), okay hair (always mussed now that it’s been hacked from hip-length to shoulder length). I’m no serene belle imbued with grace and elegance (multiple instances of my donkey-laugh, tipped-over chairs – with me in them, involuntary somersaults down stairwells and inexplicable instances of tripping over my own feet have seen to that). I mean, in short, I’m kind of a disaster. So my only conclusion about friend-of-acquaintance is that he’s looking for a quick boink and thinks the L-word will help his cause. Sigh. Fool.

- On a completely unrelated note, my mother’s rather good at darts. I was quite shocked when we went to a nearby pub for lunch and she expressed an interest in the game…and then proceeded to thoroughly kick my ass. Who is this woman?

- I also tried to teach her how to play pool. It is now referred to as The Incident We Will Never Speak Of Ever Ever Again. Ever.

- Skiving off work under the pretence of a sick day is MUCH more fun when you’re not actually sick. Who knew? (Well, I suppose everyone except me…must work at being less conscientious and more…useless? I don’t even know the correct terminology).

- My beloved Bombay beckons once again! In eleven days (264 hours, or 15840 minutes, or 950400 seconds) I’ll be back on putrid B’bay soil, inhaling the toxic fumes and possibly contracting cholera from the disease-riddled water. I actually can.not.WAIT.

- The fact that I’m worrying at all about the pollution and water is just proof that I’ve gotten soft living in this place. The thought would never even have entered my head a few years ago, as I chowed down on sev-puri and frankies at Churchgate station, washed down with mineral water of dubious origin (and purity) at a stall that would most likely be gone in a few hours. Ah, youth.