There are days when you feel absolutely fine with your life and there are other times when you couldn’t care less. And it’s not like being torn between a scrumptious looking chocolate parfait and pineapple flavored cheesecake, on a rare trip to your favorite restaurant. I mean, that’s a very difficult choice.
But if on a Friday night, after the neighborhood has cuddled into sleep, you are skimming through pages of an age old book that hasn’t made any sense to you, so far, but you hang on to it anyway, with some Ilayaraja songs playing from youtube and the endorphins haven’t quite come to work yet, strange for a Friday, then something just doesn’t feel right. I have never been an Ilayaraja-person. And if a book doesn’t engage me after 20 pages, to heck with it, I am done. For over a couple of seasons, I have been arguing with my own abilities to think right, find what I want. If it’s change that’s at the door, buzz off, I am not ready yet. And if it’s age, excuse me, can you not see that I am trying to make something out of my twenties before they become just rustic pieces of a photo album?
I guess some things don’t really care for your opinion. Age, for instance. But maybe, you can play around with the choices, like deciding to embark on a scavenger hunt, looking for your dreams. Some things utterly confuse me. For example, me. Why would I still want to run away from the idea of becoming a mother, after almost four freaking years of dwelling in holy matrimony? That’s weird, if you are brought up in a society that equates being thin to underprivileged financial standing. My friend's mother stared at me in disgust, followed by faint pity, like she just discovered that I had been undergoing treatment for mental impairment, when I told her I hadn’t thought about babies, yet. Is it entirely my fault that all my cousins and friends (well, almost) just came back pregnant after about two months of being married? I mean, that’s just not fair on me!
But under such scenarios, what I think works, is just sigh your agreement. Sometimes, in utter honesty. Like the song ‘ tendril vanthu ennai thodu’ that is making some kind of magic out of my speakers, right now. It belonged to the eighties, probably seventies. It’s Ilayaraja. It’s from a movie I haven’t seen. But what the hell? It’s just a brilliant piece of art. And it makes perfect sense during these random after-dark hours on a Friday. There’s no arguing with that!