Re-Toxing

Like the popular DETOX one also sometimes needs RETOX.

It is quite healthy – eat Cheeseburst Pizzas, don’t sleep and read Stephen King, work like maniac and drink.

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Raping your wife is not criminal, but having consensual sex with person of same sex is..

Yup, folks, in the hinterland called India, men are allowed to rape their wives as much as they please. Marriage as an institution will fall apart if there is a law recognizing and criminalizing marital rape, SC says. Indian marriages do strive on a bit of rape here and there, you know. That is why the filthy west has so much of divorce while our own spiritual Bharat keeps the marital tradition strong. Because keeping the marriage alive is faaaaar more important than married women’s human rights.

However, when it comes to two adults of same sex who have consensual sex with each other, it is criminal, says SC. If they are men, they should get married and rape their wives as much as they want. SC is fine with it. If they are women, god save us from the ungodly lesbians, they can act in porno movies for the pleasure of straight men or, be dragged to the marital bliss forcefully.

Shoo with gay people wanting to love and live peacefully!! Hurrah for raping your spouse as much as you want!!

So be it.

So it is raining like it can only in Mumbai all this week.

And for the first time in a decade I have been sitting the WHOLE WEEK in the balcony, reading a jaw droppingly amazing author I stumbled upon, dog busy tearing a cardboard carton to strips at my feet, rain absolutely bazooking the hills, neon green that makes me feel like grazing like a cow, tea spiked very lightly with whiskey, sleep just in the corners of my eyes but knowing fully well not to knock till this great book is over and then the next and then the next..

And for the first time in my life, I feel with my skin that I have earned this. This is mine and I am enjoying it and I will do it till I have had my stomach full.

I have earned this solitude. This not having to earn your salary everyday, this having to pretend to be interested in making one more million for the company, this not bothering to think what will my family think of my career suicide, this not wanting to go backpacking to another remote corner, this not worrying if our retirement plans might have been awry, this not feeling teeny bit guilty about enjoying it too much as the world toils, not feeling this shame of being privileged enough to sit on a weekday and drink spiked tea. All days. All weeks. All months.

It might sound stupid, but for someone who has moved around in life with an arrow like restlessness and constant stabs of boredom at this company, that job, this destination, this phase, these people.. this contentment is like a sharp pain in the heart, in a good way.

I am fully savouring my escapist tendency of obsessively day dreaming, waving stories of parallel lives and wanting to live the lives of characters instead of the so called ‘real’ life.I did consider it a luxury, a weekend pursuit. I was wavering like a loose grass blade in reality and I constantly chided myself for being too flaky/ too indulgent/ too childish/ too immature for doing what I want without labeling it.

My split halves, one of the permanent escapee and one whipped in reality, are slowly closing together. I felt this week as I heard and felt the rain with my skin that finally I am getting a handle on doing what I want unapologetically.

This so called escapism is my version of reality , this is where I want to spend my time.

At the back of my mind I know I will need to go back. Someday. I will need to book that car service. Invite friends who have shifted to Mumbai. Finish filing tax returns. Every day, a minute or an hour or an evening or a morning is spent in doing things I have to do. Eventually, maybe weeks filled toiling and waiting for the magical pay cheque.

And I knew from the day I started this break that I will need to go back, if only to earn money. And not for what the whole world is telling me constantly, that I will get bored sitting at home, that I will miss the work I was so passionate about, I will panick for my identity, I will long the buzz , the excitement and the growth.

I have stopped thinking what and how and when I go back to this so called reality. This reality – right here and right now is too satisfying.

I guess all that new age self help about ‘being in the moment’ is what this is. I don’t really care what it is. I am just glad to be in a position where I don’t have to compulsively label pure pleasure.

I asked Patijaan this morning, what if this is what I am good at? My life’s calling so to speak. Reading books, living in fiction land and occasionally writing them? Like a character from a movie we both remembered vaguely, at the same time. An old man who plays chess all day. All his life, this is what he does. Gets up in the morning, packs his chess set and sit in the cafe all day.

Patijaan proved his mettle by saying ,maybe this is what you want from life and so be it.

So be it then. So be it.