On Loneliness

Throughout my life, there is one feeling that has always been there. Sometimes it is overpowering and at other times it lingers just below the surface, and I can feel it, waiting. Even now, in the one of the most populated places on the planet, I still feel so lonely. It is the feeling I wake up with, the one I carry around all day and one I feel when I go to sleep. Even when I am laughing, it is there in the background. It is not a feeling of loneliness that is about the longing for the company of other people, but more a feeling that there is nobody who truly knows me, nobody who is truly there.

Sometimes it is the most intense when I am with someone else. How is it possible to physically be so close to someone and yet worlds apart. Why is it the people who are most important to us can, without even knowing it, make us feel so completely and painfully invisible and alone? And then I don’t know what to do. So often I want to reach for a hand, just to hold it, to feel another person, but then there is the fear of them pulling away and the loneliness is so much easier to deal with than the potential rejection that seems inevitable.

And so I go it alone, even in the company of others. I am there with them, but not really, not totally, not in the way I would like to be. I see so many people that seem to effortlessly connect with others and I don’t understand them. I know people think I am that way. They see an exterior that looks shiny and polished, but the fact of the matter is, I have just learned to fake it. I shut people out as much as I can, and when I have to, I put on a huge smile, tell some jokes and tell the world that everything is fine. But it is all smoke and mirrors, slight of hand and it is getting more and more difficult to pull the rabbit out of the hat. When I do talk to people, I am clumsy and give the impression I am making everything all about me. But the fact of the matter is, I am just gasping for air, trying to stay afloat.

I hate feeling lonely, but I am not sure how to feel any other way. I am tired of putting on a smile when all I really want is just to be held, really held and cry. I want to feel safe, heard and seen. But it doesn’t happen and so I go on, waiting and wanting but growing more confident that it is never coming. And I am not sure I would know what to do if it happened anyway. 

A Bit Of This And That

Lately, I have just found myself at a loss for interesting things to write about, so I have decided to bore you with the things that aren’t so interesting… Just be warned before you read further, this is probably the worst blog post ever written in the history of blogging… Well, maybe almost…

I moved. Finally! I did! I said goodbye to the landlady and the rest of her annoying but often entertaining brood. Of course, I have only said a partial goodbye. See, there is still that little issue of the security deposit they need to refund to me. They have tried everything to get out of it. They claimed I hadn’t paid rent in months, when in reality, at one second past midnight at the start of the month, the stalking begins and they start using two of their most favorite words in the English language; “Robb” and “Money”. Usually it is in one sentence “Robb, Money!” while they make the appropriate hand gesture. I used to pay them perfectly on time, but decided to start annoying them a bit in the only way I could, so I would pay a couple of days late, watching the sweat beads on their foreheads get more pronounced as the seconds ticked later and later into the month. The second trick they tried, was saying that I should give it as a gift for their daughters wedding. This was made clear by the sentence “Money gift wedding?” When I ignored it, they pointed to their daughter who was looking all premarital as she sat next to them and said “Daughter wedding” to which I replied “I don’t care, it is not my problem.” It may sound rude, but at that point I had been there for 20 minutes and this is after the three hours of conversation (yelling, finger pointing and shopping at my going away market) the day I moved out. Between one translator and having to call two friends to talk to them on the phone, it finally got sorted and I just need to wait a few more weeks and then the goodbye will be a lot more permanent. Had I known this, I would have just not paid the last month… Anyway…  Oh, and while I was at their place, landlord was wearing my old and worn out MiuMiu sandals and a pair of my discarded socks. It was a bit surreal to be in their place, seeing my former possessions and current rubbish so proudly displayed in areas of prominence all around their flat. You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff they pulled out… I would be surprised if anything I threw out made it to a trash bin… I am sure they will point to it and say something about that crazy firangi who used to live on the top floor. Anyways…

I did move, but at this point, it has been the move to nowhere. Or somewhere. Noida, actually. But nowhere near where I was supposed to be going. See, I did a course where I got certified to teach English (and scored top of the class, thank you very much) and within a few days of completing my exam, I had an offer. An offer for a real job with a real salary and I would be a real teacher. Employed. Hating my boss. Complaining about my co-workers. In desperate need of a vacation. Good times! I had a start date of July 1 and today was the day when I was supposed to be boarding a plane to spend a year in China, YES, China! And then suddenly and quite disappointingly, it all fell through. The plan was to stay with Ankit for a few days and then ship off to Chongqing (pronounced ChongChing) and now that has been a little extended while I start looking for another job that won’t fall through at the last minute…  But it can’t be that extended, as my Indian visa expires in a few weeks, so I am leaving for an as of yet unknown destination.

But as long as we are talking jobs, I did get called from the school where I did my certification and I am now a substitute teacher. Perhaps it might lead to a more permanent gig in a couple of months when they move to a new location… Is Delhi trying to keep me here?

After the whole six days of subbing (we in the teaching biz call it that) are finished, I am off to Chandigarh to help a friend work on a film. Only this time, I will be behind the camera doing some pre-production/gofer/sounding board/friend/cheerleader/ego-fluffer kinds of things instead of being the one in hair, make up and waiting for my close-up.

And speaking of close-ups… I did a film last week and I think I now have as many celluloid close-ups as my BFF Julia. And Julia and I are all set to make our first cinematic appearance together in August. I have recently learned that August 13 is the release date, just one tiny little day after my very own birthday (I will be turning something-something). Better that way, ad that gives me one more day of personal celebration before the tabloid intrusion that is sure to take place the second the first frame flashes on the screen. But my film last week was great. It was all about anger, and I got to smash computers and a full length mirror, beat people up, yell, scream, eat pizza, drink beer and burp, all on camera… I can still feel the surge of testosterone pulsating through my veins.

So there you have it, all the things I thought were too boring to blog about. I can hear you snoozing, so I’ll just tip-toe out…

And then slam the door!

Drama At Number 48

If you happened to be looking toward Delhi this afternoon and saw a mushroom cloud, I can explain...

I find myself at one of those times in life when everything changes quickly and one of the changes is that I am moving (more details on where, when and why later – for now, I am keeping things a bit on the DL). And like many things, what seems easy and organized well in advance becomes a nuclear meltdown in the last seconds without the benefit of having a single one of Charlie’s Angels around to kiss some serious ass of those who are suddenly all over my nerves. It all started when the landlords got word that I was moving. I told them, via a translator and even that seems to have gone completely in one ear and out the other. But, once they saw that I was separating things and using my terrace to organize boxes, suddenly my life turned into a market. I would catch them looking through stuff while asking “go?”

So today, just when I am about an hour or so from getting the last few things out of the house, they bring up the electricity bill which I have yet to pay. Yet to pay since I agreed with their son, via the same translator, that they could take out of the security deposit. No sense giving them money only to get a lot more back two weeks later. I thought everything was cool. Suddenly, the entire family is upstairs, claiming I have not paid rent, mad at me for selling my bed to someone else instead of them (not that they once asked me about it, mind you) and going through the last of my things, which I have promised to someone else, telling me I should give as a gift for their daughters wedding. As if they even know what to do with champagne flutes. And that is after paying the most rent for a year, having the least amount of privacy.  And the shopping went on.

“You keep?”
“I take?”
“Stay?”

Each question accompanied with hopeful expressions as though they were holding the key to happiness in their hands and I was the only thing standing between them and sheer bliss. Who knew a dish drainer could create such joy? Or that an empty bottle of L’Oreal shampoo would get smiles and looks of longing so extreme, I could almost imagine her flinging her hair around saying “I’m worth it!” And while that was happening, their little dog was running around, jumping on everything and kept making a mess of things while everyone else decided they were thirsty from all the discussion of money and luxury goods shopping and started asking me for water. I had about seven bottles sitting out since my fridge had just been taken away, so I could hardly say no. I had visions of throwing the full bottles at them, but instead I yelled at everyone to get out, I did try not to yell, but nobody was paying any attention to anything I was saying. The only thing I have left is that they fear me when I get angry, it seems. That is only thing they seem to understand and understand perfectly. Don’t mess with the gora or he will cut you!

I finally got them all out and shut the door so I could calm down. A few minutes later, there was a knock and I opened the door to the question, “Face cream?”, which came from the son who can never come upstairs without asking for a beer, face wash, sunscreen, cigarette (even though he knows I do not smoke) or complimenting me on how young I look in what little English he speaks. “You very nice sir” is one of his more regular comments to me. He compliments my skin, my hair, my body, my clothes and it all just makes me so uncomfortable. Then the mother comes back up and starts shopping again. These are people who are complaining about two or three hundred rupees (about four to six dollars) and yet want me to give them everything I am not taking. They want the power inverters, and all sorts of other pricey electronic equipment, but they want it for free, as though I should give it as a gift to them for letting me live here with almost no privacy, paying 15% more rent than anyone else. Yeah, it seems like a good deal to me. It is that kind of “gimme, gimme, gimme” mentality that just makes me explode.

Anyway, it all got sorted and now I am just waiting for a friend to arrive and to get the rest of the stuff out of here and then I am off to the first stage of a new life and a new adventure…

Stay tuned... More details coming soon…

Wasp Happening

Picture it if you will, me, sleeping all peaceful and innocent like, visions of sugarplums dancing in my head interspersed with Glee inspired numbers breathtakingly choreographed around yet another perfect rendition of some song I pulled out of my very own show choir catalogue when the unthinkable happened. It was just before five this morning when suddenly I felt a stab in my arm. Maybe not so much a stab, more like a hot poker skewering my hand. I jumped up, turned on the light and there they were, the two or three wasps sitting on one of my pillows, just millimeters from where my face had been. As I took in what happened, I noticed that my room was buzzing with Airbus 380 sized wasps which seemed to have taken an interest in me. I pulled on some shorts and t-shirts and then the dizziness started. The room seemed to move and I noticed the sweat on my face and my body felt cold. I figured I knew what was coming.

When I was a young boy, I had been stung by a wasp and a minute or so later, I passed out cold. I felt this was what was going to happen again, but I didn’t want to collapse in a wasp-infested room. I decided I would try to go outside and put a bit of distance between them and I before I fell into an unconscious heap. It turns out I didn’t collapse, but I suddenly found myself outside at five in the morning, with no water to drink and no shops open and my whole body pumped up on adrenaline. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go home, and this being Delhi, nothing opens much before ten. Sometime before six, I spotted my landlord outside having a cup of chai and joined him while trying to explain about the wasps. Nobody in their family speaks English and I don’t speak Hindi, so I tried using hand gestures and simple words… “many bees… very many… make the sting, sting, sting… Ow, o wow…” which was received with a warm smile and calls for more chai. Finally I got hold of Lata who then spoke with the landlady in Hindi. The landlady for some reason thought Lata was talking about a bunch of cats that had come in the night. I finally dragged them upstairs and when I opened the door, it was like something out of a movie. It turns out, there was a nest in the small hole in the wall just under my window. There was another nest inside the electrical hole in the ceiling just outside my door and to make matters worse, another big nest I had not yet seen. Wasps were everywhere. So what does my landlord do? He takes a broom and starts swatting. Then he takes some newspaper and using a large branch, tries to smoke them out. The wasps were not having it started dive-bombing the place while I decided it was time to vacate the scene. An hour or so later, he called me back up and it seemed they had gone, so I went back to bed all wasp free… Or was I?

About two hours later, I head out to meet Lata for lunch and I see them, the wasps were back. They were already visibly rebuilding the nest that had been knocked down, and there were dozens on the wall next to the newly sealed off hole where their nest had been. So, I decided to take matters into my hands and bought some bug spray, came home this evening and let my inner Terminator run rampant. I sprayed a random corner hear my window and was SHOCKED when about fifty or so of them came bursting out. I had no idea they were there, obviously nest number four. I stood on my terrace and kept spraying, soaking down every nook and cranny and any wasp who dared cross my path, including the one that had the audacity to land on the front of my shirt, causing me to scream a bit like a girl and run back, stumbling on the floor, bug spray going out in every direction. But now, two hours after that ordeal, there seems to be not a single wasp near my place. I do imagine them, all lined up along a wall, binoculars pointed at my window, just waiting for the opportunity to make their move.