Snigger at the title of the post all you have to, but when I feel it, I say it. That’s just how I am. And although I don’t have to justify this post, I would just like to say a few things that came to my mind, before I actually move on to the post.
…..that I have written about the women who matter to me, more than once. Paid my dues at the right quarters from time to time, and reveled in being a woman.
…..but also that, being a woman doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the other half that makes the circle complete. And that, is something I have not done in a long time, to be very true.
…..that, having come across some exceptional “stronzo“s (pardon my Italian, but I specially love this one..!) specially in the last couple of months, has made me appreciate those few people in my life who still make me believe in “man”kind.
…..that, men, in general, don’t EVER ever write about how good other men are to them (imagine the horror!), and that just means that all the “good” in them remain unsaid.
Now, thank God I am a woman (see, am back to the reveling…!) which means I can be sentimental to the point of nausea, and still be forgiven. And I can write pages and pages about how all the women in my life make it so enriching, and I can write it any given day, any given moment. But seriously, do we really think we could do without the m”e”n in our lives?
My point. So. Here goes.
I wouldn’t want to waste space in stating the obvious. So firstly here’s to my Ta (my father), my Ji (my brother-in-law) and my R (okay, just go ahead and do the method of elimination, won’t you?). No amount of words would do justice to how much these men mean to me in my life. So I wouldn’t try the impossible.
The kid brother: I don’t have one. Biologically, I mean. But maybe life more than made up for it by making my Bhai the way he is. I have known him since he went to school in half pants (please oh please oh please don’t kill me..!) and was naive enough to be fooled by threats about “if you’ve got white spots on your nails it means the cranes have cursed you with them because you’ve committed some sin” (his Doctor father assured the devastated kid that the spots were nothing out of the ordinary). But when I really got to know him, he was this tall lanky guy who’d just got into engineering, and kept waiting for me to introduce myself to him (mokkell!). Heaven knows now just how much things have changed since then. Four years younger, I tell you, and he knows more about what I should do with my life than I do..! And I shamelessly turn to him for, well, everything. When I should have been the one dispensing advice, I seek his. We goof about like I am his age. Sometimes even younger. I have doubts when it comes to him really getting serious enough about his own self, and worried at times about him getting too serious (amazing, his ability to swing between both at a ridiculous pace), but all I know is that he is one of the sanest person his age, or for that matter, any age, I have known. And here’s to embarrass you further… I luuuuuuurve you. Officially!
The twin: I fell in love with him the first day I read what he’d scribbled on his “scribble book” (that’s what I call his notebook). Because that day I identified someone who thought exactly like me. And my Dodo (that’s what I call him) must have been my twin from some previous birth. There’s no other explanation I can come up with for the cosmic connection that still exists between us. Heard of two people falling sick at the same point of time? And each knowing the other must be sick too without even having talked to each other? Well, that’s how we are. People keep asking me why he is the way he is. Ah, to elaborate, he’s simply “teenage” enough to want to remain an enigma to others. That I could read him in first “read” is a different story altogether. Speaking of which, ah… the stories we share! I could talk to him for hours on end and not be tired. I could call him an asshole and tell him I hate him, and he could call me a bitch, and even go ahead to justify it to me, but what remains is the fact that we make everything fun for the other. And think there’s nothing much else life is all about. We hate the same people. We love the same songs. I really don’t think there’s anything more I can ask from anyone. Dodo, you mean the whole world to me. And I love you. That you love French and foreign swears as much as I do just makes me sure I will love you for the rest of my life.
The mentor: Now this person has made a fairly recent entry in my life, and that he features in this post is proof enough to just how much he has affected me in this short period. I was told I could fly, by a lot of people, but nobody had given me the wings, until he’d come to my life. And to think it all started with a Facebook message that I had initially not given much importance to, and then after knowing its significance had almost gone out of my way to respond to…! To put it in a nutshell. This man. Makes me write. Big time. And not as someone who patronizes me, but as someone who acknowledges the “professional” in me (Note the quotes, mark the skepticism). I used to write before, but never with so much focus. And never before with the feeling that it is something I would want to do my whole life, and infact make a livelihood out of. To make things better for me, he is sweet enough to make it sound like I, am the one, doing a favor to him. What more could a girl ask for? Thanks Borko (oh yeah, that’s what I call him) for showing that blind faith in me. Because you taught me to have faith in myself. Something I had been struggling with for a long time before I met you. And oh, the fact that we have never even met is something I don’t even find significant anymore, because whenever I do meet you, I am sure it will be like I have known you forever, and we would be picking up threads from the last conversation.
The friend: The “nothing more, nothing less, just friends” friend, I should say really. Because before him, I had not really known there could be someone to fall in that category. And what I find really amazing is that he is kind of like that music playing in the background you don’t really notice, until it has stopped, and then you realize that it made for good listening. We are classmates. Which means partners in misery for the last two and a half years, and if anything we share a common hatred for lameness. We don’t read the same books, we don’t watch the same movies, and nor do we listen to the same music (for the latter two I guess it should be more about quantity than quality… he is the movie buff, I am the music maniac). But well, we do get the urge for each other’s company from time to time, in regular intervals; and so we spend hours at a time together, and then promptly forget about each other. Until next time. And when we do meet we talk about movies (ones he’d watched and I hadn’t) and music (stuff I’d heard and he hadn’t). And crib about everything in general. So here’s to us DeD. Just so you know, you make me feel good. Always.
The BIL: Finally, in this public place today, I acknowledge my brother-in-law (who’s actually a would-be, but I try not to get too technical) who, in my eyes, is the best there can be (not that I have many BILs so I can compare… but well, call me biased). You know how every woman dreams to have a friend in her BIL? Well, mine just made my dream come true. He is older than me, but younger than my would-be, so that makes things a little complicated relation-wise. But we came up with the best thing there could be. We are friends first. And well, I guess, nothing makes him more endearing to me than the fact that he provides me with a cure to everything. Not just doctor-doctor cure (which he really is, by the way) to my physical ailments, but also to the more emotional ones. Like when I am furious at his brother for being so far away for me. Or like when I am really really sad and missing his brother, yeah, for being so far away from me. He’s like this chilled out dude who has the same mantra for everything “Leave it all to me….!”. Which I do, really. And unbelievable though it is, things do tend to fix themselves up when left to him. And believe me when I say that he has the ability to elicit a spontaneous “I love you…!” from me, more often than I give him credit for. That just speaks for itself, doesn’t it?
This is all I can come up with right now. And I really have stopped caring (like I did when I started writing) about what people who make out of all of this. But then, isn’t there always a first time? I just hope this would ignite some spark in some other woman, whose life has been enriched by the men in her life, too. And I stress on the plural, no matter how it sounds. Because well, like I said, if I feel it, I say it.
P.S. (just something that came to my mind right at this moment) : Someone (a guy, obviously) once asked me while trying to stress on how he is a better person than I am, “How come all your friends are guys, and I see you with them all the time… and how come I am not even seen with other girls?” I couldn’t reply that day, but now I know what I wanted to say.
“Maybe you should be happy other guys find me like-able enough to be my friends, but I should be worried, because your not being seen with girls means I am the only girl who likes you enough to even be in your company”
Okay. Am finally done now.