I sware , I’m not drunk.
Wasn’t the house help who we endearingly call didi supposed to be the one person who actually got you but turns out she’s the mother you pay to be judgmental and give you the side eye when you do something immoral or unhealthy.
People, they turn their backs on you when you’re just about to lower your guards down. Not the family. They are always adoringly unbearable.
I’ve spend most part of my midnight existential bathroom floor sessions. juggling between being extraordinarily famous and absolutely ordinary.
It’s a tough call between roasting the best comedians on prime time Instagram and crying your eyes out into a pillow which is not yet satin because guess who forgot to go through with the 10 essential haircare steps in your early 30’s.
There is a reason for this deprivation or I dare say a slight futile delay because let’s face it, it’s an eventuality.
Famous people get lonely when they are too famous slightly more than when they are absolutely not.
Also it was a shocker when I realised that Lena Dunham was not the OG crusader who made a complete show about herself but there was Mindy Kaling and Phoebe Bridge and Tina Fey and maybe more who I haven’t yet stumbled upon. It gives you that sinking feeling like every thing has already been done. And how it could have been me if I had actually bothered to write down my thoughts in the past 10 years.
I’m 30.
And I’ve only lately realised that it’s the right time to stub a cigarette when it starts to hurt your eyes. Coz it gets too close to your face.
And that being trapped in a man’s warm but toxic embrace watching his choice of tv because he complained how we always watched only my choice of tv and how it mostly comprised of men killing women who were in love with them was not the best feeling in the world.
I think being 30 makes me want to say things out loud which might counter popular opinions. Cred ads are annoying. I’m your CVV you are my OTP is crass copy even though it’s meant to be. Also the same connecting line shot of disapproving millennials judging real talent form the 80s reminds me of when Lucky Ali very prophetically announced how the industry does not respect older artists.
Detour:
Some very wonderful characters were written by the women I mentioned above. Morgan in Mindy Project is a gem. It’s high time I should make a list of characters I really liked instead of their writers because it doubly blows my mind that they are figments out of someone’s brain.
Why is it so difficult to write anything on the laptop. Why are phone scribbles not final drafts. Phones are so handy. I’m writing this all on my phone. Fighting bravely through the tyrannical regime of autocorrectness.
The reason why I haven’t written a show yet are scenes. Why do we have to write scenes. Why can’t successful shows just be monologues. When will we stop pleasing everyone. And when do we realise that being curled up in an unrequited embrace is not the end all of womanly accomplishments. It’s finally being able to make a round Roti. No, not really.
It’s very easy to make a round Roti if you only do it rigorously every night on your bi yearly visits home.
Why can’t these incredibly potent bits of ramblings mould themselves into medium articles and make me the most followed witty writer on this trendy platform that I did not hear about until last year. Which by the way doesn’t let you earn off it if you are from a third world country. Who do you think needs money mediumers, it’s people who don’t have money.
Would any of you know if there are second world countries somewhere? Coz I’d like to know what is the rate per hour there for part time writers. No body ever talks about second world countries. We are very lazy with new names.
