"So they can say you are high maintainence but it's okay because.. I like maintaining you"
- Chandler to Monica, Friends, Season 6

Of all the love stories in Friends, I have always thought the Monica-Chandler pairing was the most adorable. It's low key, especially compared to Rachel and Ross. It is not a high-pressure, meant-to-be thing, but just flows so naturally, after Season 5, it is difficult to picture them apart. I think it's beautifully developed, not rushed, and just fits. The little things they do for each other, the compromises they make and how the bond between them deepens makes me go 'aaw' every time.

A long-standing tradition in my law school life around this time of the academic year/trimester has been to impulsively decide, 2-3 days before exams begin, to go to town for dinner. I would dress up hastily and prettily, we'd decide on a dinner place and run off. My roommates would watch, initially bewildered, later resigned, and even later expecting this random pre-exam ritual of mine. Everyone I'd run into on the way would throw me quizzical looks, ask me scathing questions or roll eyes when I told them I was off to town because I was bored, and no, I hadn't started studying.

Today is one of those days again, when I have a paper in 3 days, and when I really feel like jumping out of bed, donning pretty clothes, shedding all worries and whizzing off to town for a nice meal and conversation, where everything about exams is forgotten; a trip that refreshes you entirely and is thoroughly enjoyable (not like I would come back and study, but it just made me feel very happy and comfortable). The thrill is not just of looking pretty and eating good food, but of being so nonchalant and uncaring with respect to exams; the sheer freedom to do what I want, when I want, of spending time, no matter how dangerously close to a deadline or an exam, with who I want and however I want to. Ah well...

Breaking up, one can handle. It's losing the friend that really gets to you.

Thank You (For lack of a more innovative title)

Having friends does not necessarily mean that those people are your well-wishers. Friends come in different packages, and I have had the good fortune (I guess) to have been associated with both varieties of friends- those who wish me well constantly, and those who have a slightly more competitive edge and are not purely routing for me. I would like to thank most deeply and pay a tribute to the former category of people, who have made more of a difference in my life than I think even they are aware of.

While I might come across to most as an extremely self-assured person, like most people (again, a guess) I have significant moments of self-doubt. Something people who know me (ever slightly) are very aware of is that I am an extremely anxious and tense person, especially with respect to results/outcomes/end-products of my attempts. In a place like law school, where we are constantly exposed to ups and downs, I think this trait in me has been enhanced and exhibited more frequently than ever before. I sincerely want to thank all those people who have stood by me and supported me in situations where I had very little faith in myself. In particular, I want to thank some special, who from as far as I can think back, has always been there for me. And by being there for me, I don’t just mean it in a sense where his emotional support has backed me through all my pursuits. He has physically been present through some of the most trying moments in law school. He has listened to me whine endlessly about how stressed I am about something, sometimes offering advice, sometimes just suggesting I calm down, and most of the times, just silently listening to me vent. He has held my hand through the declaration of results, calmed me down when I have failed and cheered me on with pure goodwill and absolutely no envy or tinge of competitiveness when I have succeeded. Something which might not seem like such a big deal, but has meant the most out of all these things he has done to me is the fact that whenever I have tackled any of these difficult situations, it has always been with the arrangement that I will meet him immediately after it. After the most disastrous moot oral round that I have had, he was waiting for me and we were to go for dinner. For a job interview which I was mortified about and right before which, my self-confidence had been torn to shreds, he chose to accompany me, which was completely unexpected. It means the world to me that during the oral round, I had the comforting thought that I just had to get through those messy twenty minutes, and I would be with him and could pour my heart to him about it. During my job interview, the fact that he was just outside the door and I would be able to tell him all about it in a matter of minutes after the interview was something that filled me with a sense of security. I don’t really know how to describe it, but his mere physical presence in the vicinity, or the assurance that he would be with me right after I got over with the ordeal and it was just in a matter of minutes that I would be in his comforting presence is something that has gotten me through what I would describe as my toughest moments in life so far. The thought that I could forget about all that had happened and just be in his company soon has often been what gave me the energy to go through with whatever it was that I was facing.

I know this post sounds sappy, and I know it is very different in terms of style with the other stuff I have written on my blog, given that it’s very straightforward and barely twisted in with many words (yeah, I know I do that). But I want this to be just what I said it was- a thank you note and a tribute. I haven’t achieved anything particularly significant in life so far, but whatever little I have in the past four years, I owe to a very large extent to you.

Love Part II

Love was as subtly caught, as a disease; But being got it is a treasure sweet, which to defend is harder than to get: And ought not be profaned on either part, for though 'Tis got by chance, 'Tis kept by art.

-John Donne

The rare injection of poetry in my blog. Some of the truest words ever said.

My Post on Love- Part 1

You know, along with all the really great things people say love is, love is also a lot of simple things. Love is not only sacrifice, understanding and compassion; it is not only giving the unspoken things the other person may need or covet which you, through your care and concern understand s/he needs- it is also giving what is asked for.

Love is giving that toy your child is crying for; and no, that is not pampering him, that is not buying his affection or giving him the wrong lessons in life- that is love. Love is giving your parents that little extra care that they might demand in their old age- that isn't fulfilling your obligations, that is love. Love is giving your dog that extra chicken biscuit when he looks at it longingly from the foot of the cupboard, despite knowing that you might be ruining his training, and that he won't have much of an appetite left for his meal, only out of love for him. Love is meeting that girl you love when she asks you to, whatever be the hour, not because you want to demonstrate how giving your love is, or how selfless you are or even because you also want to meet, but simply because she asks you to, simply because you want to give her what she wants.

Call me materialistic, or demanding. But I think love is not just giving the unspoken, but giving what is asked for, no matter how ridiculous, or difficult or easy to give, or inconsequential or monumental, simple because it is asked for and desired.

The Month Theory

I was propounding a relationship theory to a friend of mine today, who has the acute misfortune of being the victim of most of my theories these days. Don’t know to how many people it’s applicable, but it’s a general trend I have observed… In any case, it’s something like this:

Month 1 and 2: In the first and second month of your relationship, things seem like they just couldn’t get any better. And they probably won’t (only it doesn’t seem like a bad thing just then). Life is this cotton candy, which is fluffed up with sweetness that it doesn’t feel like you’ll ever reach the stick. You can’t find any flaws with the other person; in fact, you spend large parts of your time wondering just how you could get this lucky. It’s the holding hands, being-clingy-and-it’s-allowed phase, when you think any minute spent apart is a minute wasted. In any case, pass sixty days and well…

Month 3: Shit begins to happen, slowly but unmistakably. The little things you used to adore become a little nagging (why does he keep doing this, anyway..it was cute at first…). The glow of perfection seems to reduce in wattage just a little bit. The cute little fights become somewhat tiring. You’ll probably start wondering just a teeny-weeny bit what you were thinking when you were swept off your feet. But then you work hard, make your peace with it and recall desperately the great love that you used to have. The strength of the memory (which is still fairly considerable at this point) drives you on with renewed determination.

Month 4: You’re probably working on your relationship full time to keep it going. It’s a little bit of guilt, little bit of love, little bit of boredom, and (almost always, for us unlucky conscientious folks) guilt about the boredom you feel that’s driving you on. You reinvent yourself, the other person and your relationship, try new things (and the old ones that you once upon a time found cute). You try romantic getaways, gifts of varying sizes and price-tags, and several tactics ranging from concentrating full-time on the relationship to taking the occasional time-off to figure things out. God forbid one of you is still in the Month 1 and 2 phase though... this is when the clinginess really bites.

Month 5: Full-time fighting on now. It’s war, because anger is just about all you can feel now. All the bitchy stories from the past 4 months (yes, including the two month honeymoon, which doesn’t seem all that blemish-free anymore) are brought up, rewound, thrown at each other for good measure, buried only to be brought up once again. Accusations are piled, compromises are made half-heartedly, but you haven’t reached the indifference point yet…

Month 6 and 7: This is the phase of indifference, and from here, there is rarely any rescuing possible. Let's face it, you just don't care enough anymore. You're drained of energy and are begging for respite, in whatever form it comes in most easily. Whether it gets dragged to Month 7 or limits itself to Month 6 is purely chance, and depends on how clingy the two of you are. If you’re on the same footing in having reached a point of no-return irritability, you’ll end it by Month 6. Else, it drags on, much to the despair of both parties. Month 6 break-ups allow some semblance of a friendship to remain, Month 7 ones usually destroy any tolerance possible.
It might end on a good note, it might get awfully bitter. I have a policy of not keeping in touch with ex-es, and don’t relax it for at least a year after the relationship. I think the ideal time to break-up is around the middle of Month 4. Romantic relationships are always obviously different with different people, but in every case, those first two months probably make the whole thing worth it.

And if you pull beyond Month 7, and dare to venture into Month 8, it’s probably a keeper :)

Fairytales and so on

Fairytales are a funny thing. We can probably hold them responsible for most the hare-brained notions of Prince Charming in whites which haunt young ladies world over. But, even so, I cannot help but believe that we live in the hope of that fairytale we’ve held on to for a long time turning into reality. If it doesn’t happen, well, we quickly dismiss it as being something we never really (in actuality) ever hoped for. But that isn’t true. And such cynical points of view are adopted in the eventuality that it doesn’t happen. What I am looking at today is, what when it does? Despite it being something we look for all our lives, do we recognize and give it its due?

It is ever so rarely that you stumble upon something so precious and cherished that it makes everything worth its while. Life presents the most beautiful gifts it has on offer in the funniest packages. You find them when you least expect them, and you probably even start with ignoring or avoiding them.

She met someone. The meeting didn’t register as anything particularly important for either of them. Eventually, they discovered a distant familial tie, but that wasn’t what gave rise to the spark. Speaking of which, for over a year she did not even agree they had a spark. When they met for the first time, they were both very different people (from each other and from what they’ve become today). Quite story-book like in that she was enthusiastic and showering her affections everywhere, basking in the attention paid from several other quarters, while he was quite, intriguing, cynical and had his own following of charmed or interested people. They rarely spoke in the first few months of their acquaintance, and whatever little they did was due to his initiative. For her, it was like the half-serious, light-hearted friendships she had with almost everyone else. For him, well, it was soon discovered that it was love. Hot and cold followed. When they spoke, they spoke for hours, about everything under the sun, about things which were ever-so mundane, yet could be discussed at great length. And when they did not speak, the gap could last months. But he did not give up on the feeling, and she, well, she wasn’t even really thinking about it. A phase of turbulence in her life made her jolt out of her merry little teenage soap. Relationships became serious, some died. He started assuming more and more importance, little by little. Before she even knew it, she was more dependent on him than on anyone else around. And vice versa, I think. A fortunate or unfortunate distancing made her sit up and take notice of how much he had started to mean to her. Steps were taken to remedy the distance. Maybe unfairly so, but it seemed important then. And it worked out well. Another messy affair followed. He survived, and so did she. And then love grew. Not from his end (that was already ‘there’, so to speak), but hers. Although it would be much prettier if I described it to simply have ‘happened’ one fine day, with her waking up in the morning and feeling in love. It wasn’t quite that simple. It developed in stages, grew over the tribulations they wrestled with, found life in the many tears shed by both of them over various things, strengthened when they faced negativity together, blossomed over beautiful conversations and summer-evening walks. She did not feel love overnight. It was a feeling which was moulded by several factors. It was an attraction developed not in a hurry, but through a series of irresistible meetings. The chemistry was not in a spark but in a slow fire that they both had to feed richly, for a long time, with expensive items like their own emotions. A lot of things followed from that point on- significant events, which for some reason seem insignificant in the context of this initial progressive realization of their own individual dreams.


It is important for us to keep our eyes and ears open and pay attention to when a dream of ours is taking shape, for it happens ever so quietly, unexpectedly, and noone from heaven sends you a signal that this one is the one. It is important to take note and work on the dream, for dreams are only vague outlines. It’s the reality that you pour into it which makes it the fairytale. If you make a mistake, think that this one is the one, and turn out to be wrong, or even if you’re right, and things simply don’t work; well, then, I suppose you can shrug your shoulders and move on. But at least you’ve tried. Without leaving scope for ‘if only’ type whinings. If you’re really brave, you’ll probably muster up the courage to dream again. Most of us will then be ready to make the compromise and do what we’re told to.


I cannot say for sure when the fairy tale began. To tell you the truth, she realized much, much, much later that this was that dream. It required much more effort than the dream had said it would. The fairytale sort of just happened, this, it needed to be made to happen. But somewhere, the line between fairytale and reality blurs, in that one forgets which picture is more beautiful, more perfect.

And this, for now, is all that is important.

"Okay"

OK 1 or o·kay (ō-kā') n. pl. OK's or o·kays Approval; agreement.adj. Agreeable; acceptable: Was everything OK with your stay? Satisfactory; good. In proper or satisfactory operational or working order.Correct.Uninjured; safe. Fairly healthy; well. adv. Fine; well enough; adequately.interj. Used to express approval or agreement.


"frightful letters ... significant of the birth-place of Martin Van Buren, old Kinderhook, as also the rallying word of the Democracy of the late election, 'all correct' .... Those who wear them should bear in mind that it will require their most strenuous exertions ... to make all things O.K."

Okay is universally applicable, universally approved. Something that is okay can't be wrong. It cannot, by any subjective standards, be not okay. It's better than everything else. It’s simply right.

‘Just one more time, Jenny, please.’
‘I called him. I told him. He said okay, in English, because as I told you and you don’t seem to want to believe, he doesn’t know a goddamn word of Italian except a few curses.’‘But what does ‘okay’ mean?’
‘Are you implying that Harvard Law School has accepted a man who can’t even define ‘okay’?’‘It’s not a legal term, Jenny.’
She touched my arm. Thank God, I understood that. I still needed clarification, though. I had to know what I was in for.
‘‘Okay’ could also mean I’ll suffer through it.’
She found the charity in her heart to repeat for the nth time the details of her conversation with her father. He was happy. He was.



‘He’s okay,’ said Phil Cavilleri to his daughter.What did that mean?I didn’t need to have ‘okay defined. I merely wished to know what of my few and circumspect actions had earned for me that cherished epithet.Did I have the right cookies? Was my handshake strong enough? What?
‘I told you he was okay, Phil,’ said Mr.Cavilleri’s daughter.
‘Well, okay’, said her father, ‘I still had to see for myself. Now I saw. Oliver?’He was now addressing me.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Phil.’
‘Yes, Phil, sir?’
‘You’re okay.’
‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. Really I do. And you know how I feel about your daughter, sir. And you, sir.’
‘Oliver,’ Jenny interrupted, ‘will you stop babbling like a stupid goddamn preppie, and-‘‘Jennifer,’ Mr. Cavilleri interrupted, ‘can you avoid the profanity? The sonovabitch is a guest!’

Ta da

Crumbs spilled off the plate.
It marked something- progressive realization of something. And the end. Of I don't know what. Or was it the beginning of that? I don't know.
But something changed. Not in anything perceptible, in anything which can be seen. You wouldn't notice I suppose, if you looked at us. I think something changed within us, without leaving a mark outside of us. A realization of the never-ever-possible. Of a dead end, yet a blissful path to it. Of poetry, of beauty, of conversation and brilliance. But without practicality or compatibility. Of a beautiful picture which lacks in balance within and a frame without. Of perfection and its flaws.

If this doesn't make sense from the first sentence on, don't bother trying. It isn't meant for you then.

Book Blues

There are some points in literature which make me want to strangle the author.
They make me desperately hope and pray that what I read was a mistake, that there is some way to alter that particular episode in a book. I feel like I could do anything in the world to change that bit of the story, beg and plead with the author to change that bit. It hurts me, the way things turn out. Actually makes me clench my teeth, sometimes cry angry tears of disappointment and betrayal, throw the book and wish away the fact that I've read it.

Jo turning down Laurie's proposal is one of them. It made me near suicidal. I felt like the world had come to an end. And then, when he got married to Amy, I realized that the end had actually come now. Poof..I can't describe how I felt. I wanted to murder the Amy in the book and set the world all right by getting Jo and Lauri married. I read till the end of all the sequels, hoping for some miracle, some chance by which they'd get together. Sigh..none came.

Rhett turning down Scarlett in the end is another. Though they get together in the sequel, it isn't the same thing.

Jenny dying. Sigh. Kept praying for a miracle, though the first line of the book extinguishes the chance of any happening.


Though, I do admit, that these books wouldn't have had the impact they did on me had they been any different.

Except the first, maybe.
Jo and Laurie were meant to be!!!! Come on..

A Note on Someone

I suppose it's once in a lifetime that you meet someone who understands you. In 20 years (yes, this is also to draw attention to the fact that I turned 20 recently), I've met just one person who understands me almost completely. Unfortunately though, like I keep telling him, I don't think he can ever appreciate me.

Friends are weird creatures. They come in all kinds of packages, sustain all sorts of temperaments and contribute in their own significant or not-so-significant way to life. But something I believe is common to all friends anyone will have will be that that friend should have a minimal understanding of the person concerned. If anything, that's probably the foundation. I've been lucky in that respect. I've had a bunch of friends who've all understood me pretty well, more often than not. But like I said, it's ever so rarely that there is that one person who knows you through and through, can almost always correctly predict what you'll feel. They say that when you meet such a person, with whom you have such a cherished equation, you should grab him with both hands.

But you know, sometimes it's this perfection that ruins the picture. It is this kind of complete understanding that slowly wears down fragments of the relationship. Something similar has happened in my case. Things happened too late. Understanding notwithstanding, acting on that understanding happened too late. There is too much criticism and inherent dislike for whatever is understood. A strange concoction of love and abhorrence. Leaving me afraid all the time as to which one will prevail on a given occasion, on a given day. Probably understanding too much is the natural precursor to contempt. One of life's little ironies, I suppose, to use the overused phrase.

That being the introduction, I really don't know how to get to actually describing this person. An entry on him has been pending for a while, and since this is my first entry on an individual, I assume that this person is flattered. Whenever I think of him, the first word that comes to my mind is supportive. For the time that I've known him, I can't think of a single incident when he has let me down. When I've needed to talk or cry or 'analyze' things when he hasn't been there. All right, there have been stray occassions, but they've cost us both and our relationship severely, and those aren't the prevalent memories. He always listents, always advices. It may not be a practicable or empathetic solution, but the fact that he offers a solution after a genuinely interested round of listening is enough. I think this is his greatest gift. He can actually make a problem seem simpler, a situation seem so much lighter. He has recently taken to doing small special things, being very thoughtful. I don't think it comes very naturally to him, but he's doing it for me now. Which is really touching.


Naturally, there are downsides. What hurts the most is the utter lack of the ability to relate or appreciate. That apart, shades of insecurity and very, very violent tempers sparsely hidden cast dark clouds. The funnt thing is, though there have been so, so many occassions when we've been together, I can't think of a single time which is either all happy or all sad. It's all...grey, in a way. Which isn't a bad thing, the way I mean it. All I'm saying is it's complicated..nothing seems simple anymore. And neither of us are helping that.

Sometimes I think I'll probably end up marrying him. For the simple reason that I know I'll never meet another person who understands me this way. Don't ask me how I know; it's just an instinct. But I think we'll drive each other crazy after a point. We differ on too many basics, as he had once said. Either way, I wanna make this a little dramatic, and thank him for every time he has unquestioningly been there for me, has patiently listened to me whining about the same things again and again. There's a lot more to him, there's a lot more to us. Both good and bad. But this is all I'll say for now.