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Recently being diagnosed with severe anxiety, things haven’t been the same lately. Hours are now spent into realisations and self actualisation. I could have easliy gone into the well of remorse and then would come a stream of self doubt inside the dry well , that could have easily drowned me.
Instead, grateful to my sincere awareness and support, i could talk about it openly and face my problems, they say it is your step one towards happiness.
I consider this not as a step but as my path towards realising that i have been chasing objectives in the wrong way totally.
Realisation is different from revelation, realisation gives you the ability to understand where you belong currently and what has brought you here, and significantly what are you made up of.
I grew up in a small town, in an environment where happiness was defined by dinner dates and sneaking phone calls. Where relationships were considered as outrageously forward and those indulging in it were non conformists.  Love , sex and live in relationships were a matter of pride and enjoyed openly by a few privileged.
I was one of the outrageously immodest and a complete non conformist according to our neighbours definition, it made me happy and it felt like a breakthrough.
Today i am in mumbai, the city that never sleeps, where nights are meant to be enjoyed and my non conformance to those previous norms were a common prevelance here.
So like any other small town ambitious boy, i tried to fit in , into their system trying to maintain my attractive , non chalant persona of being a total dissident.
I thought it is allowing me to accomodate better , in a more comfortable manner allowing me to enjoy the pride .
Months passed away and i kept on piling layers of personalities over my little legitimate area of existence and attributes and kept on masquerading my honesty and individuality to ensure that no one could see my real self. Thus abstaining myself from revealing how i love those little acts of happiness, how flashy lights and powerful cars with tremendously loud speakers don’t irritate me but rather scare me, how my idea of a fun night still includes having conversations with cousins on a balcony with tea and rusks and how i willingly take a step back before indulging into something outrageous, outrageous according to the definition of this city and its lights.
In all of these acts of masquerading, i could easily hide my true self, however the veil that you draw in front of you is always someone else’s, its taken on lease and it can never truly  be yours , you cannot buy it or forcefully make it yours. The veil eventually loses its freshness, its quality wears off and it makes you look dull and boring. It makes you sound complex and confused, you think something else and express it in  a tangential approach.
Eventually like me, you realise that this is not how it should be done, the veil has to come down, it might expose you, and that is scary , embarrassing and questionable, but always the right thing to do .
I still love sitting in balconies or under huge trees, sipping tea and dipping rusks inside , with ingenious calculations allowing me to exactly pull the rusk out before the tea melts it and break it off inside the cup, trust me when i say that this require deep and  profound knowledge of the capillary action of liquids.
I still smile reading those handwritten letters, keeping them safe inside envelopes that match the exact sizes.
I would always prefer to shake hands instead of hugging when we meet after so long.
My texts would be short and indirect, probably will misdirect you, but like my indefinite and bizarre actions , my words will always be for you.
Your parties do not excite me, but a late night coffee would surely smitten me with love.
Your hey would mean a world to me , and i would still ponder till infinities to send my perfectly formulated hii ensuring the exact number of i’s.
I would always ask you to return back home before dark and call me once you reach because that is how i am and  this is how i work and function .
I would still hold hands and walk, and smile  without even looking at you because that is how i have dreamt of love and call it my blatant honesty, i cannot and do not want to fit into your outrageous definition of love.



6 thoughts on “Outrageous affairs

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