Myself, Preeti

Truth

I spent 20  minutes trying to copy an image that perfectly captures my feelings and in my quest to get that picture right, I lost sight that I needed to write.  There was a reason I am at an unholy hour on a Sunday night.  A need to get it out all out.  But the truth is, I am avoiding writing because this year will perhaps be the culmination of something I hadn’t dared to think about in years: Marriage.

In a way, I am already married, and the vision of being with the one I love for the rest of my life not at all daunting, in fact even exciting.  Yet I do not want to cross this path alone, and I do not want to do it in darkness.  No more hiding.  No more lying.  The truth will set us free, but more importantly allow us to live.

Lately, I have become superstitious that what my beautiful love is going through can be cleansed by the truth.  I no longer want to lie to anyone about anything.  Yes, to answer the ones wronged, I am trying to be AN ANGEL because I am willing to do whatever it takes to start a life partnership on a path of clarity, reality but best of all honesty.

It’s not easy as it looks.  Recently, I told a dear friend about her fiancée (who also happens to be a good friend of mine) who I felt cheated on her (a mere two weeks after he proposed to her) based on what he told me.  Yes, I broke the man rules because the truth is that I am not one of the boys, and I can no longer keep quiet on what is wrong.  As someone pointed out, as long as your know you will lose one friend, then go for it.  And I did, and the only thing I really have to show for it is that my conscience is clear, I am less one friend and discovering that the person I thought to be “saved” has decided to go back to the friend. So now I am less two friend, full of the feeling that determined people will hurt themselves no matter what anyone does, and perhaps nothing will change in life except me.

And then there is Preeti’s cousin who lives 15 miles away but has not bothered to call, or even stop by even though she’s fighting for her life and future.  Sure, he can go see his girlfriend but heaven forbid he actually check on a supposed close family member.  And then I caught myself.  I could do this all day long.  I could begin to stop talking to everyone that I think has done me or Preeti wrong but then there wouldn’t be many friends left.  The reality is, people are selfish, dishonest, indifferent but they also happen to be dearest to someone in our lives.  What do you do then?  Quit friends?  Quit life?  Quit the truth?  No, I realize.  You move on.  You forget.  The ones that mean something stick around, and the ones that do not, vanish.  The truth makes certain of that.

photo

Brownness, My Past, Myself, Writing

Swirling Thoughts

i hope they serve beer in hell
Image by kangarootone via Flickr

1) Remember grabbing KFC in Iran as a weekly ritual and going to the park (5ys)
2) first day in boarding school in India, I had peed the bed and was ashamed (8yrs old)
3) arriving in london to stay with relatives with my oldest sister (10 years old)
4) driving from the airport towards my parents after not seeing them (12 years old)
5) Being humiliated in my 7th grade english class because the teacher felt my English speaking skills werent up to par, and her being unsure if I would pass the class.
6) Getting on the volleyball team and realizing I was a bench player, getting subbed in and my only shot was tipping the ball in and scoring for the team (14 years old)
7) remembering that I followed Sumita (my middle sister) into almost everything she signed up for writing class, student congress, human relations camp, india boarding school
8) Returning to india after receiving green card, and seeing my grandfather for the last time before he passed away (18 years)
9) my first published story “Rain Fire” edited by a dear family friend who recently passed
10) Winning the National Conference of Teachers of English award (included a recommendation from the English teacher who didn’t think I would pass.

I remember being empty. Time ticking away, coffee getting cold and me just empty. It’s as if I had no memories, no past. And then I remembered the no. Mrs. Maruna didn’t think I would ever pass 8th grade English class. I looked up into her unsmiling face, looking for understanding. Nothing. The redness of my shame circled around my cheeks but hidden by the browness of my skin, it just squeezed my heart and soul.

I was single, young, and horny. We chatted online for a few minutes, and after a few sexual innuendos, decided to take our activities offline and meet up. I am ashamed now at my sluttiness, and willingness to meet a complete stranger just to satisfy myself but really not that ashamed to be zooming down on the freeway to meet her at 3am. She had left the door open as we had discussed. In hindsight, it made sense why she did. I shoved the door open, immediately banged my leg on the bed, and to hide the pain told her I needed to take a shower. Perhaps my only concern for safety was to be hygienic. She was already in bed when I walked out. I climbed right in, but couldn’t quite get comfortable. I kept moving around until she asked if her leg was bothering me? Huh? “I said, is my leg bothering you?” removing the blanket to reveal a steel leg. Holy shit, I was about to fuck the terminator. My penis tried to hide inside of me. The meanness in me proved my immaturity and explained why I never again tried to hook up online.

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max

That was the inspiration for my post about my online adventure gone wrong, and while I wasnt as bad as Tucker is in his many “misadventures” with women in college, I think I came quite close to being Tucker with my comment that I was about to fuck the terminator. The sad part is that I had done a much longer graphic post mocking the girl and myself, and really made it my “Zinger” story. I usually told it to a group of new people, and usually it would draw huge laughter, but then I realized it didn’t make me look very good to my girlfriend to be. In fact, she was disgusted not at the fact that the girl had 1 leg, but the fact that others laughed so hard. That was probably the first time I realized what an asshole I came off to be. Sure, once people got to know me, they knew different. However, my choice to share this story as a starting off point really just made me another Max Tucker. And that’s not something I wished my legacy to be standing on. Especially on one leg. Yea, I havent matured much.

Myself

Lucky Sanjay

What is it about a night spent with great friends, awesome food, and a 80s style arcade game that can make one feel that life just isnt that bad?  And it isnt.  It really isnt.  Thats the thought I carried when I drove over to the gym, and then for the next 35 minutes, life just suddenly felt doable, no actually just great! 

I dontk know why it took so long for me to get into a rhythm where I just ask myself, what the hell was I so reluctant for?  Why did I wait so long to just be happy with myself?  Why did I resist going to the gym or even really just reaching out?  And for a second there, I was blank (hard to imagine, I know), but then I realized, I was afraid.  Afraid of letting down Preeti because we couldnt go the gym, afraid of admitting to friends that today just wasnt that great of a day. To even admit to myself, that I should a lot happier, I have all the toys and the money in the world.

And yet somehow, it just didnt seem like much or perhaps enough.

It hit me then that I wasnt allowing myself to feel rewarded because somewhere in the back of my mind, there was feeling I should still be paying for my past sins, my ego or a mixture of both. 

I stopped  promising and rewarding myself a long time ago.  Instead, I just wandered through a haze of alcohol, gambling, and fighting, never asking myseldf: why the hell was I doing to myself.

But friendship and love didnt give up on me.  Together, they decided that this Sanjay isnt the one that they know. 

They are right.  Thank you friends.  And ofcourse and always, Preeti.

I love you both deeply.