Urgh. What the hell. I don’t need a fucking homogenous fruit of derbyshire man. All I need is the fucking trip. THE TRIP! HA! For the someone loney do we forget the stakes that are at play on the wheels of life wherein the families of all the big granaries will partake in their own happiness as well as others to make peace with the cause of the various hedge theives and harlots that roam the land looking for my penis and its irresistable charm.
A little bit more on the engagement ceremony before I move on. The one person that I quite wanted to talk to was left unattended by me. She didn’t dance either, I’d noticed. Mildly interesting, I suppose. If at all.
Have i mentioned that i rather enjoy being an adult? There are just so many rules of etiquette protecting you from any kind of real interaction with people, it’s absolutely wonderful most of the time, except those times where you feel pretty empty inside, when it does nothing but exacerbate that feeling. All in all though i most definitely enjoy adulthood more than adolescence. Sweet fucking sixteen my hairy gonad-skin. Glad to done and over with it. Now i can actually enjoy myself a little bit. i don’t mean this in the way that it normally is, in the sense of an exploration as a consequence of newfound freedom. I enjoy it a lot more because there is just so much more to think about, so much to ponder, to care about, so many complications and consequences, and there aren’t a lot of things i enjoy doing more than pondering. Everything right from the minutiae of social interaction to career choices, the meaning of life, choice of clothing manufacturing sources, religion, the relevance of fiction in everyday life, your mind is just allowed to simply explode in terms of possibilities of what concepts to apply where. And i find this absolutely wonderful. And what’s all the more satisfying is that this is the way it’s going to be for as long as i live. I will always be accountable for the actions I undertake, and gives me immense satisfaction. Like what i do really matters. And what more does anyone really want than to matter, in whatever way that might be? Noone can take that away from me either, the unbreakable link between my sense of self and the things that I do, which just makes it sweeter. I do suppose that at this point I ought to be thankful for the opportunity to actually be able to take actions that make any difference in any tangent of existence whatsoever. What would I be able to do as a starving 8 year old with marasmus? Or even as a starving 22 year old? Responsibility. I do cherish it. I never thought I would when I was younger, but i really have developed an appreciation for it.
It’s great feeling to be invested in something, anything, caring about it, and aligning it’s purpose with your sense of your own. That opportunity to escape from your self and all the anchors that it brings, is simply irreplaceable as an experience. It’s almost like stepping into someone else’s nicer car, except that you have a stake here, and you’re still as fired up about whatever it is that you have that stake in. I highly recommend it.
This utter utter sty of Delhi. I hate being here. I really do. Is it hostel I hate, is it the fucking money I have to pay to get to anywhere pleasant or is it the goddamn weather, I really can’t tell which. In other news, I’m going to Bangalore. Yay! I love Bangalore. Cousin’s engagement. Hmm. I’m required to take stuff like a shirt which I will be duly forced to wear, and formal shoes.
So yeah. The engagement ceremony is OVAH. As far as social gatherings go, I thought I acquitted myself rather well. I had, erm, ‘smooth’ conversations with a lot of people, and moved to and from conversations with a reasonable level of proficiency.
But then there was dancing. And everything went to shit. Well, not really. But my self esteem took a real beating and i felt close to pretty horrible for the remainder of the function. It distinctly reminds me of Class X when I would roam from class to class looking for a conversation or group to be part of. The same happened here, with me walking purposelessly and repeatedly between the hall and the lobby adjoining it. It really was a horrible experience, that part of it. There was a good period prior to the start of the ceremony as well, when I was given a bit of purpose by being told to fetch a banana leaf. Such purpose, such satisfaction. But along with purpose there came complications.
The said leaf was supposed to be in the room booked for the women, and I wasn’t clear on the etiquette regarding this. Should I knock and stand aside? Would I be expected to enter a few steps to receive the object? Should I call someone I know to be inside the room to come outside with the object? The situation was further complicated by the fact that on my way to the said room, I had met my cousin — the bride-to-be of the day — and a few of her friends, and asked her friends to check witht those in the room for the leaf. As a result, there was the added layer of consideration as to whether I should lie low and put my trust my cousin’s friends, or just wait somewhere nearby for them to appear with the leaf, just to make sure, or simply give it a couple of minutes or five, and knock on the door of the room (into which, by the way, my cousin had gone, along with her mini-entourage) to check with them for the leaf anyway? Caught in this maelstrom of indecision, as i so often tend to be, I did what i normally do in these situations – nothing. I waited and thought and dawdled, and eventually started doing something else. I created a sizeable delay in the task, and was duly called by my superior who’d initially assigned me the task (my mother) and questioned about the status of the task along with being given an appropriate expression of disappointment as well.
Armed with the fresh drop in confidence from the judgment on my value as in individual, I went for broke and rung the doorbell on the women’s room. My aunt answered, and i asked her about the leaf. She informed me that my uncle had it. Or that my cousin brother had it. I honestly don’t remember whom she specified at this point. Anyway, i remember my uncle’s phone not being reachable, so this is probably where it fit in. I also think I called my cousin (brother) who informed me that it was with his father, or passed the buck in some other way, but I can’t say that I remember for certain. However this particular episode concluded, I do remember coming downstairs back into the hall and asking my mother what they were doing about the part of the ceremony for which they needed the leaf. She informed me that it was alright because the priest was simply able to carry out the ceremony without the leaf.
rage attack. had one? i did, yesterday. it felt good afterward. CATHARSIS, MOTHERFUCKER, CATHARSIS. Aaaaaaahhhhhh. it was rather relieving, otherfucker. Huhuh. OTHERfucker. Fuck an other. fuck another mother, brother. fuck an other, brother. geddit? brother? Black brother! fuck an other, brother! ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!