Winsome, Lose some: From One Ms. Understood to Another

Dear Rakhi,

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again (and once more if it pleases you) - the universe is unfair. I know defeat and disappointment have this annoying habit of bringing everything in their vicinity to a grinding, screeching halt. Till you feel like the very air you breathe is in suspended animation and it is a struggle to simply respire. And that the most valiant of attempts to swallow one's pride can lead to the most crippling cases of indigestion.

But we must be strong, you and I. We are resilient and beautiful women and we must not let the world so much as think otherwise. The key is to suck it all in… not give the slightest indication that anything is amiss. Because in good time all will be well. While the wounds take time to heal on the inside, all the world should be able to see is a smile.

And if “upsetness” becomes a shade harder to handle, my advice: start a blog…

But I digress. If at all by a bizarre twist of fate you do end up reading this (yes, I know the chances of Rakhi Sawant reading this lie somewhere in a miniscule radius around nil) know that I am your soul sister. I feel a strange kinship with you. Agreed, I’m not a sexy item girl (unless you count the video we made at the Christmas party, which bordered dangerously on pornography) and I’ve never had plastic surgery (unless you count the time I had my front two teeth rebuilt after breaking them on a roller coaster at Appu Ghar). I’m loud and ridiculous to only a select few while the whole world sees that side of your personality. But we have one incontrovertible thing in common. We are both fools.

Fellow fool, our brilliance is lost on an unappreciative audience. Your charms and my words are wasted on a world that thinks it knows better. That would settle for what is obvious, safe and convenient.

In your grief, know that I am right there, grieving with you, albeit silently. I tried my best to cry, but all I could muster up after much effort, much extended reflection on sad and morbid things and countless attempts at facial gymnastics (the last of which usually works like a charm) was a cough followed closely by a giggle. I figured my inability to summon tears could mean one of two things, a) That years of watching mindless TV shows and being exposed to horrible images in movies have turned my heart to stone, b) That I wasn’t altogether shattered by the situation in which I find myself. I’m inclined to the latter explanation but either way, you’ve shed tears copious enough for the two of us. So rest assured that universal equilibrium has not been disturbed.

Rest assured also that we will survive our respective catastrophes. If for no better reason than that we have precious little say in the matter and no other choice but to survive. “Hardship build character” and you know you can never get enough of that (character I mean, not hardship. I’m sure there is an upper cap on the woes that one person must shoulder in a lifetime). And of course “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. We’ll emerge like Samsons from this fight. The strong Samson, with his long locks intact, before that dastardly Delilah’s devious delinquency (I am a sucker for alliteration).

Today we shall mourn. We will take our poor injured little hearts, sow up the torn bits and glue the rest together. And come night time, it will be as if nothing at all happened.

And tomorrow, as my other friend Scarlett likes to say, “…is another day…”

Best,

Me