On the road to finding myself… and taking wrong turns

Last year someone predicted that I will not write a blog post in next one year. Even though I sneered at him that time, and thought, "Who does he think he is… Paulo Octopus?" (Well I actually did not think of Octopus then, but something to that effect), but I (ashamedly) agree that his words have come true.

Well, I never said I was a serious writer, not even a true blogger. I don’t even write a daily diary, even though Bridget Jones is my all-time favourite heroine. Guess what, I have not even stood on a weight scale for more than three months. But I did eat lots of chocolates (not B&J), drank wine (not chardonnay), and more often than once saw myself embroiled knee-deep in a mess brought down by my own stupidity (not all of them involved men), and I guess… I hope I am guessing right… that my best friend is a gay. And that alone qualifies me as the biggest fan of Ms. Jones. I still occasionally jot down ideas and things I feel need to be spoken which I am sure nobody otherwise will give an attention to had I been speaking in person. So my blog exists…

While I was absconding from my blog (which is more like a sabbatical, I would like to believe) this is what I did. I read lots of chick (read trash)- lit, saw more movies in one year than I did in cumulative 30 years, gained ten lbs, and in between all these managed to do some work too.

After being reclused in my haven for more than a year, this morning, however, I was shaken awake from my reverie. It was one of my friends who came to say Hi to me at my work place, and after some “idhar udhar ki baatein, bageira bageira,” I bade him good-bye and said “good morning” with a curt of my head and a bow. Damn! That BBC drama last night. Who I was thinking I was? Elizabeth Bennett of P&P? I mean who says “good morning” in these days? I am sure my friend has never read a Jane Austen, but I can’t vouch he has not seen Casablanca. He might have recognized the pattern. Well, well… do not panic. Even if he suspects, I will say that was my alter personality. Oh No! Again Bitten By Evil and Anniyan.

So readers (if there are any*)! You might have guessed my problem now. Of late, my life has started resembling like a film, and I the heroine straight out of the page of a book which was accumulating dust in a library. But no more! I am going to pack all Austen novels today. I am just afraid of one fact. If I try to avoid acting like Emma today, I might go out and overdraft on my credit card a la Becky Bloomwood tomorrow, or worse, leave the car at home and take the broom to work. Now I am wondering Jessica Darling might like to include this post to her Do Better Storyteller Project? NO! STOP!

Hence, as a last resort to keep my sanity, I decided to vent out all my pent-up emotions in this blog. I hope, and I pray and hope it works, this will keep me from acting like a book character and help me move on with my life. But not now… that is for some time else. Till then, let me say a few more “Pray, tell me” and “upon my words” and “Oh! My dear, dear Mary Anne” (My friend’s name is Maria. Do you think she will realize that I changed her name?).

* Even if there is no reader, I can still depend on the Soulmate (who will arduously go through this post thrice, just to avoid to be put up with Meena Kumari – esque tears), and my vast in-laws clan (who more out of loyality and less of virtue will vouch this is the cleverest written post they have read in recent one-year past), and few friends and other family (who will click the button just to be shown on the cluster- map and in this way avoid getting nagged for the next 3-4 weeks). To them, whom I love most, I dedicate this post.


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