Meri jaan

Like most of life's momentous episodes, this one too happened when I wasn't looking. Or least expected. Guess I was too young to realise that I was falling in love. And soon enough I noticed that she loved me back. It was a heady experience – a love affair that grew to be so passionate that there was no measure between love and hate.

She was beautiful, from the inside and out. Now when I look at old photographs, I realised how pretty she once was and how totally granted I took her for. I still remember the romantic walks by Marine Drive and the happy moments we spent at the Hanging Garden.

And then the inevitable happened. She began to ignore me and started meeting new people. We drifted apart. She got around with some wrong kind of crowd, and somewhere down the line, seemed to have lost herself. And although I still see a glimpse of her old self now and then, it’s clear to see that the old magic has gone.

I still miss her terribly, but she’s indifferent to me now. She has new friends now and new lovers. It’s hard to say whether it was me who was disloyal or her. But it’s not the same anymore – she’s even changed her name now. Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be. Bombay…you seem to have lost your soul.  

Have you lost anything yet?

Elizabeth Bishop has gone on record to say that the ‘art of losing isn’t hard to master’. She says we get used to losing things so that after a time any loss ceases to matter.

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster…

Something to it. And even if there isn’t, I think it might be worth a try. After all, isn’t it every other day we lose something or the other – a favourite pen, headphones, our mind, a friend, our soul.

I hear that the poetry of loss is a genre unto itself and there are many poets who've mourned the loss of something or another. What appeals to me is the theme's immediate poignancy - it's implications of tragedy. 

Bishop’s ‘One Art’ goes from losing a small thing like the door keys to bigger things like a continent (which I think is used as a metaphor, for what I don't know) and a friend. And the irony is that what she’s really trying to say in the end (according to experts who parse poems and things like that) is that we almost NEVER get used to losing things. We merely forget perhaps. This is evident in the last verse of her poem (where she’s grieving the loss of a loved one) – where she goes from “isn’t hard” to “not too hard”.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

Still, I find it a good idea to take this perspective. After all, what have we got to lose? 

Oh, seedy!

Lately, I’ve been having this serious desire to wear disposable rubber gloves at home and outside. But I know I’d be doing that at the risk of appearing even more loony.  

I’ve known for some time now that I have a slight case of OCD. On good days, I have it completely under control. But there are days when I struggle. Which is why I find solace in watching ‘Monica’ do her thing in ‘Friends’.  

It started with wanting to keep all my school books neatly on my table, one on top of the other, at right angles. One thing led to another and I soon found myself de-cluttering all the time. My latest obsession is wearing gloves at all times so my hands remain clean – while opening the bathroom door, holding the train handles, touching the pantry table while eating lunch in office.

But I think of myself as among the saner ones. I know people who cannot get on with their lives if all the rupee notes in their wallet have not been arranged a certain way, who need to check at least three times if their car is locked before walking away, who must clean every inch of their house before they can step out. The list is endless, really.

Living with OCD is tough. But whats worse is when people around you don’t pretend to understand it. Fortunately, I’m comfortably in the green because it hasn’t started to affect my daily life. In fact, I often use it to my advantage, like when I have to go to the ‘burbs when its been raining (“it’s too dirty to travel”) or when mother asks me to cook (“I can’t work in a dirty kitchen”).

So it’s all good. At least till the time I don’t start getting my eyebrows done at right angles.