Of 2011 and sweet nothings


Disclaimer: This post is unabashedly narcissistic. Quit reading if that bothers you. Continue reading if that enthralls you. Pick up a dictionary if you don’t now what narcissism means.

Every site I check, every newspaper I read, every magazine I pick boasts of a flashback time line, screaming 2011’s “best” and “worst”. I couldn’t stop myself from doing the same. But I’m going to refrain myself from commenting on national and global happenings of the year (though I’m more than tempted to do so) and categorizing them as black or white. I’d rather make a list of what 2011 meant for me, what changes it brought in my life (personal, professional and otherwise) and revel in my own tiny, yet significant, grey world.

This list is in no particular order. For readers’ and my own convenience, it should have been arranged chronologically. My inherent laziness prevents me from doing so.

So, here goes:

Aaj mere paas degree hai, diploma hai

Became a Post Graduate Diploma holder this year. After “studying” rigorously for three years during my Bachelors course, I took a self-conscious decision of moving from the academic to the professional field by choosing to pursue a course in journalism–a decision as replete with uncertainties as the one I took while choosing to do my Bachelors in Literature in English. As before, and probably because of my own love for reading, writing and keeping an eye, nose and ear out for the unusual, the risk worked fine and I thoroughly enjoyed my ten months of the diploma course.

Aamdani atthanni, kharcha rupaiyya

Entered the professional world by receiving and accepting my first call letter for a job, thereby officially becoming an earning member of my family. A significant shift in my very identity: from a student to a working woman. My work life came, and continues to come, with its own shares of ups and towns (I have blogged about it a couple of times before), compelling me to give some serious thought on money versus studies, and  salary versus degree.

Kaam hai puja, baaki sab dooja

Work threw me into a no man’s land of grocery buying, experimental cooking, paying EB bills and learning the skill of negotiating and bargaining. All of these I hadn’t ventured into before, primarily out of my own choice and freewill. Today I cook, sweep, mop, clean, wash, bargain, manage accounts and ensure savings (no matter WHAT) more out of reluctance than choice. But there’s a deep feeling of bliss, relief and enchantment to view the bank account that boasts of an amount that was made possible because of no one but me. My sweat, threat, blood and resolve.

Parivartan hi sansaar ka niyam hai

The experimentalism had begun way before I ventured into the kitchen. I took the plunge of getting my hair coloured, and RED at that, despite my pronounced aversion and skepticism over hair colours, chemical products and such like. After months of wondering, musings and imaginations of what I would look like if my hair weren’t jet black, I closed my eyes in front of my hair dresser exposing the vulnerable, indecisive me. I was awarded with a Rihanna red highlights and brownish blond streaks. I haven’t looked back since then. Perhaps, burgundy will get a chance this new year.

Life me boht kuch pehli baar hota hai mamu

This year was a year of many ‘firsts’: got my first article published in a national daily, Got my first paycheque for an article I wrote for an online magazine, got my essay published for the first time on a global sphere, Gender Across Border, signed my first cheque for starting my first Fixed Deposit Account (I still don’t know how it works), purchased silver jewelery for the first time with my savings, celebrated Deepawali with family for the first time in Chennai.

Likho, padho, jeeyo

Purchased 11 books on Flipkart: a record, not just in terms of purchasing a single kind of item from a single online dealer but also in terms of the amount of reading I put in this year. Proud of my epic reading. So much more to go. So many books. So little time.

Kalam ki taqat

Wrote nine fiction stories. Posted three of them on my blog, garnering interesting positive, negative, scathing and surprising criticism and comments. Well, at least, people read it. Thumbs Up!

Jab mil baithey do yaar

Treated dad to a dinner with drinks. I was 22 and had legally attained the age to drink. He was 60 and had officially begun utilizing the benefits of being a senior citizen. Irony shone at its best when he beat me in gulping down the drink that, he claimed, he consumed after nearly 27 years. Shame on me!

___________________*__________________

For all those who have tried calling or texting me in the last 24 hours, my cell was immersed in soapy water when they did so. It was probably enjoying a last, refreshing bath before its funeral, so I begin the new year with a newer, fresher one. The hunt is still on.

On that bubbly note, here’s wishing all my readers a rocking, exciting and satisfying new year 2012! 🙂

Picture courtesy Google Images Clip art

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