You want me forever? Bitch please!

      Gone are the days when perfect love stories used to charm me. Word ‘perfect’ in itself is loaded with expectations and polishing. I might sound like a complete idiot but I really mean it, when I say, I like the rustic rawness of imperfection better than the orchestrated neatness of perfection. At some levels clumsiness seems much more attractive to me. Wait, wait, wait I can give you examples from our surroundings. Just think of a well planned garden with geometrical plan, trees stood in perfect circles and flower rows in alternate shades of colors. And compare it with a wild forest where trees overlap one another,  greenery is visible till where your eyes can go and birds singing their relentless songs. Nature at its best! What seems more appealing?

                Likewise, when someone says me, I want you forever, I get this very nauseating feeling. I can’t take on the eternal concept of a perfect man who adores me everyday and who’d rather DIE than not to be with me. I can’t be a perfect one for someone DAILY. Some days I’m good, at the others I’m not. Some days I may love you like maniacs, at the others I may even want you to disappear from my sight for a while. Things on a daily basis trouble me or rather ‘haunt’ me. What is the beauty of a thing if it happens daily?  So what’s the big deal about wanting someone forever and making everything perfect? I mean you may be a commitment phobe and I may be an eccentric one and we may prove to be outstanding together.

I’m not saying perfect love stories aren’t real. I know a man who loved a single woman for straight 70 years and made her feel like a 16 years old girl everyday; my 83 years old grandfather. But it’s rare and more of a thing of past.  Now a days imperfection is more genuine.

             So be real, be imperfect and last but not the least- ‘BE YOURSELF’.

Because even I want you forever, not everyday but forever! ;)

Improper? yes, i am!

         When I was a kid, elders and their maturity used to allure me to the core. I mean, come on, elders were charming and so was everything about them. My greedy eyes were always transfixed on their spectacles, wallets, bags and even on the mask of graveness that covered their face. Their life seemed sublime and royal. They didn't have to go to school or do homework or solve blood sucking maths sums (No offence, but I seriously didn't find any use of Laplace Theorem in my daily life even once; so all of you who are progenies of Ramanujanan-‘ we are good without maths’, okay?)

        Somehow I liked gossip aunties and their endless hours of gossiping too. The subject of their gossiping was always unknown but I assumed that they are adults and they would be talking about something grave and serious.

        I wanted to become an adult as soon as possible. When kids of my age were busy with cartoons, cocoa milk and loud music, I was appreciating news channels, coffee and gazals. My mother never received any complaint about my fighting with other kids because I found fighting ‘juvenile and immature’. I used to look at children of my age with disgust and think, ‘one day I’ll get older and days of my happiness will come’.

        But as it is said, ‘life is dynamic and so are thoughts and desires’.

        Twelve years later, I’m an adult who crossed teenage three years back and surprisingly ( or is it surprising really?) my idea of happiness just got reversed. Now I think there is something seriously wrong with me; like my biological clock is ticking in anticlockwise direction or so. Now I like cocoa milk, cartoons and hip-hops better than coffee, news channels and gazals respectively. I started having silly fights with friends on silly matters like 'ohh-you-made-fun-of-me-you-are-dead-to-me' or 'you-wont-let-me-to-ride-your-bike-go-to-hell'. I mess up with persons easily and then I explain myself to them as- Hey! I’m just 22, how can you expect me to act mature?

       Yeah, I know I’m contradicting statements made by 10-year-old-me, but hey! People change, okay? ( I have every possible excuse for my callousness).

       But strangely since many days I’m hearing gossips aunties’ enchanted gossips even more loudly. What they are talking about? And why they are looking at me?

       Oh my God! Now it’s making sense to me! Since all these years gossip aunties were gossiping about persons like me who don’t follow ideal sequences of biological clock. But then again, who the hell even cares? Keep enjoying aunties I’m gonna provide you so much to gossip about in future. It's my life and life is about change.

     And for present me, what’s next? cartoons? positive! Hallelujah!