Good Enough

I used to dream that we’d be a family,

Once again, But then I was faced with reality

You weren’t there by my side,

and my life ain’t nothing but a tragedy.

 

I used to dream that I’d be whole again

But how can that happen in this world of pain,

How can I rise above it all?

When I ain’t got the strength to even break my fall?

 

I go to bed every night, feeling the same way

I’m tired with myself and just how I behave

When there ain’t no spark, how can I rage a fire?

Everytime I look in the mirror, I see a liar

 

I used to think nothing could ever touch me,

That your protection would always cushion me

But my naivete came at a price,

Coz life made me pay a fee.

 

Every promise said that, “you got me”

And Every hug meant that we’ll always be

Together, that makes us strong

But twin you just pushed me back and broke free

 

What do I gotta do to get your love?

I keep trying but you always shove

Me away and I know I should learn

But all you ever do is watch me burn

 

I’ve paid all my dues, gave away all my stuff

Moved across the world for a chance to earn your love

We were born together, heart, body & soul

How do I get you back? How can I be good enough?

 

Sibling rivalry and fallouts are a serious problem in this day & age. I recently witnessed one of the worst sibling fallouts I could have ever imagine and my heart goes out to the twins who were born together but now their life choices have pulled them apart. I’m praying for them and their situation brought my words to life. I hope they reconcile soon.

 

xx

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The secret ingredient

When I was 15, I never imagined living away from my parents. I wanted to, but I didn’t think it would ever happen. When I turned 17 my parents sent me away to university and I couldn’t have been more greatful. It was freedom the kind I’d craved and it meant making my own decisions and it also meant a ‘HUGE’ bump in pocket money!!!  😮

In university, I learnt to wash my own clothes after I put all my clothes together in the washing machine and all the colors bled onto one another. I learnt how to make my own bed because, the lack of our housekeeper Roopa meant I’d come back to my dorm after classes to be greeted with a messy bed and a wet towel on top of my comforter. Also, learnt that I need to put my towel out on the line to dry if I didn’t want it to be smelly & gross & eventually grow mould. I learnt how to share a bathroom and keep all of my junk together in little bags as opposed to my dressing table back home, which if I have to be really honest with you, was my dumping ground for the wet towel I mentioned earlier.

But, the most important thing I learnt in University (besides the extremely expensive education my parents paid for) was how to cook. I mean I always knew how to cook, I mean who doesn’t? It’s easy to learn the technicalities, follow recipes available in books and online but you’re never quite sure if it turned out exactly like the pictures are you? It took me a while to bridge the gap between following instructions and the food actually tasting good.

Before I came to Uni my mom taught me how to put things together, no doubt about it. She was trying to teach me how to cook but I felt no need or interest in learning. But I soon developed the need to learn how to cook and that eventually became a point of interest, especially when I moved out of my hostel and into a private apartment building. A best friend I made in college taught me nuances, a few things to add or delete from some basic recipes and things started looking up. With every trip back home I took an active interest in what my mom was cooking, and she always made it a point to cook my favourite things. I’d go back to college & my shared apartment and always try out what I learnt, and if I must say so myself things I made turned out to be so great. Everybody loved it, but every morsel I put in my mouth tasted so so different from what my mom made. Why? How? I always seemed so confused about it. I’d cook the same things for my mom and she couldn’t find anything wrong with them either but I could.

I continued my cooking journey even after college and kept dazzling my friends (they were quite surprised that I knew how to turn on the gas, let alone cook) and my mother but I knew in my heart it was always missing something. Some years later when I got married I learnt some great things from my mother- in- law (also a great cook). I recreated those in her absence and for her approval as well and although she gave me a A+ it just wasn’t…

When Mukul & I got a place of our own I couldn’t get a cook for sometime so I took it upon myself to cook and with every vegetable I chopped, every pot I stirred, every dish I prepared, every time I plated it and served it I knew what I’d missed. Every bite Mukul would take and every time he’d open his eyes wider and say “mmmmm”, I’d take a step closer to acknowledging what gave my mother’s cooking that extra taste. Every time I cook his favourite meal and when he clears the dishes, he makes it a point to give me an extra few kisses and it always makes me smile and I finally know the secret ingredient..Love

If you cook, then you’ll know that when you’re in a good mood, the food that you make is always tasty, however small or large a portion it is. But when you’re in a foul mood things never tend to work out. My mother once told me that the key to making sure I cook good food is to remember to dump all of my stress, my sorrow & my grief before entering the kitchen. She told me that the food that I make (or anybody who cooks for more than themselves actually) not only feeds me but somebody else as well and I have to make sure I always add that extra ingredient: Love. Because that’s what I want in the bellies of my family & friends instead of all my life’s worries.

I have stood by this thought and I strongly endorse it too. Whenever Mukul & I fight we get take out or we pause the fight and go out. Another great idea for all you couples out there but that is another story for another time. For now I leave you with a little something on love: ” The only thing we never get enough of is love; and the only thing we never give enough of is love.” – Henry Miller

xoxo

 

Return of the Queen

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To start off I have to thank the girl (you know who you are!) who had a sizeable role in me actually writing and posting today. Thank you girl! This one is just to brighten up your evening and hopefully make you laugh, and if you don’t, just guffaw a bit to make me happy 🙂

Writing is my passion- love it and I do it all the time, in some way or the other. I started this blog because I wanted to provide an outlet to this passion, and also coz as conceited as I am, I genuinely believe I have lots to talk about and tell you (I mean you– the reader) and I assume that you want to read what I write. But, with my professional life being so busy and full that I just can’t get the time to sit down and articulate my thoughts on so many various topics that are worth talking/writing about. So, my blog suffers and with the lack of regular content I lose a percentage of my readership. I hate it but sometimes it’s so difficult to juggle so many roles.

I wake up as me- the individual, then I transition to the wife, then to the boss at work. I talk to my mom and mom-in-law and I’m the daughter & daughter-in-law; I come home to being the wife and almost everyday I go to bed feeling like a Queen- having achieved everything that I have in the day. The flow of praises from my husband helps a lot in making me feel that way too. It’s amazing how much of a difference it makes- those few words of praise and appreciation, and trust me! My husband is very generous with his praise. I love it and they make me feel like a queen. 🙂

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Anyhow, before I get side tracked and turn the post around and start talking about my husband and my marriage, let us move on. As I was saying I love writing and I think it is an integral part of my life. You can most naturally ask if I love it so much and I don’t write my blog regularly what do I do to fill the void? I write an unnecessary number of emails at work. This is comical but for the sake of writing- I actually once wrote an email that said, “ love the design”, to a colleague who was sitting next to me staring at my computer screen and she said “I’M RIGHT HERE!” I literally had nothing to say! Was actually a first for me.

Besides writing several unnecessary emails I also write several long ones. Situations that don’t require the usage of as many words, sentences and paragraphs. This one time I took 2 hours to write an email because I wanted to make sure I wrote it ‘perfectly’. I wrote & re-wrote and re-wrote and after a few thousand iterations, I arrived at the perfect version of the email. I’m sure you’re wondering what could possibly be the nature of an email that requires being re-written so many times?

It was an email to my boss requesting for 10 days off from work for my sister-in-law’s wedding. Let me give you a brief background. I have the sweetest most amazing boss you could ever ask for. I love her to bits. She has all this amazing world experience and we work together on making our fashion house bigger and better. She has never known me to have a filter in the things I say (not that I have one), or my timing to say those things. So keeping all that in mind you can imagine how bizarre it was for her, my husband (and after this, I’m pretty sure, for you as well) that I worked on this email so much. For your amusement here it is below:

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Hey Boss! (*name replaced*)

I know this is a little odd but I had something really important to discuss with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if your first question is why didn’t I just discuss this with you 3 minutes ago when we were talking on the phone, but I was hesitating to the point of actually stammering. Anyway, I have a wedding in my family and I’m going to need to take off from work from *from date* – *to date*. I’ll be travelling to Delhi for the weeklong festivities. I’ll obviously be available on calls, emails and texts and that goes without saying. I hope it’s ok! I appreciate your support.

Thanks,

*My name*

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That was my email. That really was! What do you have to say now? I told my husband about the whole thing and as I opened my mac and put in the password to show him the e-mail, he kept wondering what I might have actually written. He thought I was probably nonsense-ing about having re-done the email a “ghazzillion” times (in my own words). When I showed him my email, he was like “Really? And you spent 2 hours on that? And you couldn’t have just called?” He couldn’t stop laughing. He gave me that I-wish-I’d-asked-her-parents-to-show-me-a-medical-checkup-certificate-to-confirm-that-she-was-sane-before they-married-her-off-to-me look. I kind of feel sorry for him at times.

Do you want to know my boss’s reply?

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Hey Divya!

Thank you so much for the heads up.

Hope you enjoy the wedding

X

*Boss’s Name*

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My husband asked me the next day why I wrote her an email, and I said because I needed to convey the message and at the time I was feeling super inspired to write, but I didn’t have a topic to write about, so the “not-so-fancy” email was born. I bet she was rolling her eyes while reading the email. I wouldn’t blame her. L

All this stupidity combined with a lovely message from an acquaintance asking me why I stopped writing really brought me back. So here I am…. & this time, I’m here to stay!

It’s the return of the Queen b*****s
!