He said, “You’re addicted to pain.”
My friend said, “You’re getting obsessed with tragedy.”
Another said, “Stop with the unhappy endings.”
It was only when a close little friend sitting in a big crazy city messaged me that something stirred up within me, “You’re like the Meena Kumari of this generation.”
Immediately, I threw away all my work and decided that I must find out more. So online I went, and Google I searched. There it was:
Kumari gained a reputation for playing grief-stricken and tragic roles.
Her life and prosperous career were marred by heavy drinking, troubled relationships.
I didn’t know why, but I was smiling. I think I had had found the solution to a question that I was simply not asking.
I have always believed in signs, at times, I plead guilty to searching for them in dark cloudy skies, but there are days, such as the ones I’m living today when the air is electric, and the smile on my face contagious. It comes in the form of an old song filled with memories on my Shower shuffle playlist, or when two pigeons sit and peck at each other lovingly on my sunny balcony, or sometimes even a little more pronounced, a message.
Just when I was giving up on the words of Coelho, and his belief in the Universe, I decided to make one last wish to the Universe, and see if this one comes true. Three hours later, there it was… My sign.
Yup, I am the Queen of Tragedy. And this is my role in the world. Modern Juliet, with thoughts of her lover(s) till the sun sets. A romantic who believes that soulmates and significant others are tied by the ankle with a single red thread, who spend their entire lives searching for the other. This is who I am.
I’ve always believed that words heal; or at least take away the pain, if only for a moment. But as I go back and read my past blogs and old letters, I’ve come to realize very important facts about me and my writing.
1) I’m a hopeless romantic.
2) I love tragedy.
3) Music does not do me good.
4) Memories written do not do me good.
5) Cupid hit me in the face many times, all the time with a brick.
6) I hated romantic endings.
7) Romeo and Juliet CANNOT be together.
This is Me.
I thrive on love stories that have agony, thirst, passion, infidelity, tears, burning hope, fiery kisses, hurried love-making, angry outbursts, violent sex, letters filled with salty tears, lyrics that painfully strum the chords of the heart, the mind that can never forget, or forgive, hurt, the urge and longing to touch, secrets and betrayal…. So on and so forth goes my list… If I continue, I am sure the adrenaline rush will leave me sleepless and tingling…
I’m a dreamer, a writer, a lover and a believer.
I run away from people, cities and love. My recent wanderlust moment has come from nothing other than the fact that I was suffocated, I forgot how to breathe, and I wanted to find a place I could drink a glass of wine with the lights off, maybe a candle glowing somewhere, Calvin Harris & Alesso feat Hurts – Under Control on repeat, surrounded by old sunny pictures of Goa and an endless stream of tears.
And that is exactly what I did, sans wine (dry-less state – pun intended), and half way through my sexy outburst (for I was clothed in black satin) I started laughing; the tears of sorrow soon became tears of absolute madness. I laughed and laughed till my stomach hurt and the song reached its end. I got up, switched all the lights on and shut the music.
Meena Kumari, I told myself, it’s time to grow up. It’s time to laugh. It’s time to forget about Romeo climbing up the window (8 stories is waaaay too high) and watch movies, travel the world and love thyself.
Bombay – Seattle. 14th December 2013.
It’s time to fly, with that absolutely gorgeous smile of mine.