So, I finally realised why I actually began with this blog in the first place. To write, and hopefully inspire my readers to take on a journey of self discovery, and run away- not literally. “Run Away” can actually imply several different things. For starters, let me just make it very clear, that
A) I have not Run Away from home.
B) I have no intentions of doing so either.
C) No, I do not stay in my hometown, but Yes, my parents know, and approve of this.
Now that that’s all cleared up. This blog was meant to take ‘Run Away’ in a well, not so literal sense- it could be just the few minutes you spend alone for yourself, it could be the longer road you take home just to enjoy a song alone, it could be the half an hour extra you and your loved one decide to cuddle longer, or the impromptu holiday you and your mom decide to finally take. For me, it was a change of city- Yes, very drastic, but yes, also very much needed.
It was more than a year ago, and I shall not delve on this long, because there is another story eagerly waiting to show itself. And besides, all that talk about 2015 do not look into the past…etc… so not more than a year ago, as the train reached Ahmedabad station, I tried not to let the tears fall down my cheeks as I wondered if this was not just an impulsively HUGE mistake that I had made. 365 days later, I am proudly and comfortably sitting on my sisters bed in Bombay and grinning. It was NOT a huge mistake, (or a HUGE mistake). It was wonderful. Yes, you read correctly. It was a wonderful, and much needed change in my life and it got me to think of myself as a different person; a more real person- and it gave me the chance to meet and work with some fantastic minds. But as all good things must come to an end, that journey ended on a bittersweet note and before you know it, life and it’s games, here I am- lo and behold.
The City of Dreams.
So here you have it folks, as I like to fondly called it, here’s presenting the Run Away Writer’s ‘Modern Musings of the New Girl’ (wow, that’s going to be one large title to publish 😉 )
Modern Musings of The New Girl
For someone whose been shifting cities, and countries for years now- I’m honestly amazed at my social awkwardness that hits me every time I enter a new space. Whether it was me entering my summer school classroom in Paris, my Theory and Criticism discussion group in Exeter, my first official job space in Ahmedabad, or my current- I would like to say ‘dream job’ in the City of Dreams- Bombay.
Easier said then done by Jess (official New Girl); on second thought she was surrounded by three uniquely hilarious men.
Being an assistant editor to not one, but three publications: travel, lifestyle and fashion seems nothing less than a stepping stone- more like free fall from a cliff- for a 25 year old with a history of MA and a night full of rum and air-kissing.
To say the least, I am more than excited. Until I walked in.
A red and black plaid shirt, tucked neatly into deep blue jeans and shoes I bought from my recent trip to Spain, with enough blessings and kisses from my mom and aunt, I was ready.
Not expected. Not prepared. Not nothing-
Whichever you want to use.
All set to hit the ground running, I ended up falling flat on my face (thankfully, not literally.) After several failed attempts (Read here: Lack of courage) to “meet” people, I decided to give up and eat standing- alone. Well, nearby the ‘popular girls’ have now outlined and decided to venture towards them one at a time.
For my first day, I would not say #epicfail – until it was time to go home. Instead of venting with a walk by the sea, I ended up walking amongst a throng of hot, sweaty Mumbaikars with Save Tonight blasting on repeat.
Weirdly, there’s a hopeful smile on my face.
Oh and by the way, that girl, she’s still waiting for that Phone Call.
What was I saying about not calling my day #epicfail ? Well, here you go-
Day 2: #EPICFAIL
As I spent the better half of my day staring at glossy magazine cover girls, finding new shoes I would like to add to my wishlist, and of course, not speaking to anyone, I decided to take fifteen minutes off and take a walk along one of my favourite lanes in Bombay.
Fondly known as, Colaba Causeway. Dressed in a brown knee-length dress, with beige ballerinas, ivory pearls to match, and my hair tied high, I set off walking slowly between the vendors and customers. As some bargained, others screaming for attention to their jewellery and cheap prices, I had a smile on my face, my woos of the past disastrous day slowly escaping me.
As I walked back to my office with a newly purchased necklace in hand, I was slowly realising, there’s nothing a walk on causeway can’t cure…
You thought right.
I spoke too soon.
Here comes, the #EPICFAIL
… there’s nothing a walk on causeway can’t cure; unless of course you almost sit on someone.
Yes, you read that right.
My defence: This girl was so tiny, so so enviously minuscule, that I didn’t even notice her sitting on my chair as I swivelled it, my ass promptly facing her, (as my face was in my phone) and I screamed only when she yelped as she soon realised what was going to happen.
After recounting this to my best friend, she sadly replied:
Sigh. Not making any friends bro. Come back home.
I can’t even write anymore. The hopefulness is now just a flutter in my heart. The only great part of my day was a three hour Skype call where I recounted the story of That Girl, with That Boy to my best friend, and smiled as she told me the Universe has always been kind to those who are patient.
So this is me, patient, smiling, and hopeful. Here’s to a better tomorrow.
Being a hopelessly romantic writer, whose desperately in the process of forgetting someone who may have been The One- but for reasons I yet do not understand, we are on strict radio silence- I’m drifting.
Where was I?
Yes. Hopeless Romantic Writer.
This reminds me of a time when someone who was more then fascinated with me casually mentioned,
Ah, I feel sorry for anyone who falls in love with a writer. You think too much; and then you’ll write about it. Poor fellow.
I promptly threw a piece of ravioli on his grinning face.
Coming back, it’s my third day, I already had that glow worm tingly feeling in the morning as I winked at myself in the mirror.
My huge smile, perfectly washed and dancing hair went brilliantly with my polka dot crop top, black palazzo pants with a black knot for a belt and dainty chappals that showed off my newly done cherry red pedicure. Yes, that with my much adored reflector sunglasses from Barcelona, today, I was ready.
Burn, was blasting in my ears as I reached office and there seemed to be nothing that could take my smile away.
And boy ! Was I right- No, Boy did not call- But ….!
As I sat in the sunlit conference room, I looked around at the eager faces around me; we were all waiting for the editor to come in so that we could discuss the timeline and due dates of various pieces.
“So February- the celebration of Love.” My editor gushes. She’s touching maybe fifty, but her cheeks still turned red, and her eyes were gleaming. She seemed to be more excited about Valentines Day then- I looked around, I guess I was the only one who wasn’t getting excited about a whole month’s work on Love.
From nowhere, thoughts of that boy’s dimples came into my head- the way he smiled, the way he winked at me…
My face turned red.
“So, do you think you would be able to do it on such short notice?” She was talking to me.
“Huh?” Vaguely I remember nodding at the confused, and some disappointed faces around me. I guess I was the only one who was okay to skip this assignment.
“OMG! Shah Rukh Khan!” Someone screeched.
I wanted the ground to split and take me in, because I knew what was coming next-
“Dilwale Dulhania Leh Jayenge!” I whispered, as someone yelped around me. The conference went up in giggles as everyone around me started discussing their favourite songs, moments and dialogues. My mind… I was already somewhere else.
That night, that long heartfelt conversation.
It was probably around the middle of the conversation when in the silence of the night, the iconic theme song of the film filled the night air. It was, beautiful, dare I say romantic. The song now reminded me of his warm laugh, but then slowly, the end of our conversation came to mind too.
Can someone take this keyboard and hit my head?
My editor just asked me why I’m blushing.
I wonder, is the boy getting these signs? Or is the Universe just over compensating with me?
In other news, the best friend has told me not to message The Goat.
In other, other news, Day 3 #QuiteBloodyAwesome
Now I wonder for tomorrow, newly purchased electric blue pants, or something more on the lines of hipster-Indian? Fingers crossed for better days forward; I have also decided to cancel my vacation plans to go home this weekend, the mind has won over the heart; more like the sea has won over the heart and I have decided to stay here and explore this city as much as I can.
Any suggestions ?
City of Dreams, here I come, open arms and all =)