Where are you all

In my opinion, blogging isn’t for everyone. When it comes to someone like me, for whom writing is a means of de-cluttering my head, I tend to miss the line between what stays in my head and what must go public. I’ve always struggled to stay within the confines of that damn line. Fine, so now that I’ve made everyone happy by exposing my weakness, its best if I just let that huge head of mine do its thing.

I’m a bit crazy. People may find me a challenge to figure out. But I’m proud: proud of my integrity, that I’m not a victim of fashion trends and “what’s-in” and I wear boyish rbk sandals with a salwaar-kameez. I’m happy that I have the will to help, but sometimes it fizzles out, leaving me guilt-ridden. I’m happy that when I think about me 10 years from now, I never associate my success with a large bank balance or a huge house. I’m happy that I can still cry when I think about my late thatha and the good man that he always was. Wow, even as I write all this I feel like smiling. I feel like Amelie after she helps the blind man “see” in the market place. Putting this down makes me feel like a loser as I remember the times when my integrity has failed me and I have buckled under the pressure of “people”- in quotes because, well, they aren’t people in the first place. They’re people who are not accountable for their actions, who don’t care for the environment or their house-helps. Wondering why you should even care who smoothens the sheets of your crinkled bed once you’ve left home? Humility is the key, people. There’s nothing like doing your own work - cleaning your own mess. Whether it’s throwing a wrapper in the bin or saying “sorry” in a messed-up relationship. I wish I could travel time and be a 21 year old in the ‘80s. Things were simple and friendship went beyond money, looks and status. Love was exciting and people wrote letters. Where are all the real people ?!