Love/Hate relationships.

So here's the thing about Bombay: As much as I love this city, as much as it's the only place I'll call home, as much as I miss its helter-skelter pace when I'm away, the truth is there's something about Bombay that makes me feel like shit about myself. I feel like a circle trying futilely to fit into the square-shaped groove in the puzzle; I feel desperately lonely, like an eyesore, like everything I do withers on the vine. Simply put, when I'm here, I am incomplete. And I can't quite figure out the reason.

All afternoon, I've been trying to face up to the fact that there is a gaping discrepancy between my political views and my personal choices. I'm trying to convince myself that that's okay, but I feel strangely hypocritical, as if what I'm calling "personal choices" are just signs of falling prey to societal norms.

For instance: My politics tell me that sexuality is fluid, lust is inevitable, sex and love are separable, and as a result, monogamy is unrealistic. I also don't know of a single monogamous relationship where (at least) one party didn't cheat on the other. Some of these relationships sealed the cracks caused by infidelity, while others disintegrated permanently. However despite my liberal political stance and (veneer of?) cynicism, I know that I could never be in an open relationship. It would shatter my heart into innumerable smithereens if the man I loved was sleeping with other people. I know that I don't have it in me to be with other people while I'm in a relationship, so really, being in an open relationship would certainly not be to my advantage. So is that a valid personal choice or is it just a consequence of watching The Apartment too many times?

The only factor reassuring me that I'm not a complete traitor to my political views is that I don't judge people in open relationships, and to be perfectly honest, I'm a little envious of them. That, and since I seem to be chronically single, it doesn't seem to be too pertinent anyway.

This evening, I decided I needed a pick-me-up, and since I saved more than Rs 1000 of my monthly alloted quota, I went book shopping. I feel really guilty for spending so much money, but I need to read. I wanted to buy John Irving's "The World According Garp" or "The Water-Method Man", but Crossword being as shitty as it is, didn't have either. Instead I picked up Ian McEwan's Amsterdam, that I've been meaning to read for a long time. I absolutely loved "Enduring Love," but haven't read any of McEwan's other work. It was a toss-up between "Amsterdam" and "Atonement," but since I've heard so much about "Amsterdam," that's the one I went with.

Also, on a total whim, I picked up Shashi Tharoor's India: From Midnight to Millenium, despite having read reviews of it being quite a narcisstic book, with little objectivity. Honestly, though, I don't mind something that's written in first person, as long as it's entertaining and bashes Hindutva. Ever since I re-read Midnight's Children (yummy yummy), I've been itching to read more about the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty and the Emergency, and this seemed quite apt. Plus it was cheap for its generous size. I really really want to buy the collection of writings on the Partition, but I'm too broke to buy it right now. Maybe I'll ask my parents to buy it for me for my birthday.

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Happy Halloween, North Americans!

Two years ago, there were tales of unsightly bulges underneath Spidermen costumes at 3 a.m. There were also findings of bagels in shoes.

One year ago, owing to too much school work, there was the regular Sunday evening TV marathon: Malcolm in the Middle, The Simpsons, Arrested Development, The Simpsons again, law and Order. There was also organic chocolate ice-cream laced generously with kahlua, and the flouting of dietary restrictions in the form of Chicken Gyro Pitas.

I miss the girls of 5325.