The Doubtful Narcissist..."Was"

There are days I write well and then there are days I sound like one of those awful eassay writing enthusiasts.

But I love writing. I don't know if I'm any good. But I do know that I'm not bad and am reasonably interesting. Most people have encouraged me. Except Mike Andy (name changed to protect privacy). Yes, he writes very well and works for a leading tabloid and has, on more than one occassion asked me to give up the whole thing and admit to myself that I'm quite lousy with the pen. No, I don't hate him for that. No resentment whatsoever. On the contrary, I'm afraid that he may be the only one who's right and all the others, wrong. You see, I don't like bad writers. I firmly believe they should just stop and move on. My fear is I'm one of them and living in denial.

So, for a while I considered just putting an end to the whole lie and stop this obsessed relationship with writing. Only emails.

I'm trying and not succeeding. I can't stop. However, it has taught me a few things. For one, my writing is worth something only when I'm in an intense state of mind and when I feel a heightened sense of emotions. When my mind is a calm and placid place, I'm no good. I'm worthless. Not just with the writing. A satiated and complacent mind to me is a mediocre mind and if I accept living as a candidate of mediocrity, I render myself useless in every sense of the word.

This, in turn, has made me realise that my love for writing has nothing to do with my possession or lack of any literary prowess. Its got everything to do with me, the recluse, trying to escape from being bonded by that mediocrity and in the process, having found a real friend in the pen.

It's a fair deal I think. I won't, like I never have, try and sell you my ideas, my dilemmas, my conflicts, my demons; in other words, my bad writing. I'm beginning to get quite convinced that I am a misanthrope and a happy one at that. My writing, regardless of how good or bad, is probably one of my only tools to continue escaping the clutches of the mediocre mind I so dread. In other words, deem myself worthwhile. So, No, I'm not quite prepared to seperate myself from writing yet.

Mutant

A few things have changed since my previous blog...I'm no longer 22..I'm 23 now and I married the love of my life... now with that, a lot changed...

I felt like myself after a long time yesterday. Just being wild, getting dirty and going on a wild goose chase. Yes, I do that most of the time but that's where the difference was yesterday. It was all done PUBLICLY. That's the whole damn point. And without any dress code or of conduct which is becoming of a "lady wife".

The social life as an Army Officer's wife is cruelly stifling and suffocating. I or rather, you, have to do everything that you don't want to and you can't do anything you want. For what?
I don't get it. Just don't. And I don't want to either.

I don't know but perhaps I'm a hypocrite too. I call myself one because I know for a fact that I definitely would frown upon a loud, brazen fauji lady. In other words, anyone who's uninhibited. I wouldn't though, if she were married to a civilian. So then if I'm allowing my behaviour and conduct to be "controlled", I'm doing exactly what I wish for others to do as well. But that's what confuses me. Because you see, it's precisely what my whole crib is about. Why are we governed by a different set of rules as women in civvie street? Why must there be any rules to begin with.. All we did was marry these officers, not enlist ourselves in the Army.
It's such a gross contradiction. Life in the Army is defined and pervaded with adventure, exploration and spontaneity among other things. And yet, those are the very pleasures that an army officer's wife is so strictly forbidden from indulging in.
While I call the social life stifling and suffocating, it also happens to be exhausting at the same time. The events and parties never end. And they will never end so long as the insecurities of the senior officer's wives (in the guise of whims) exist, which we all know will probably exist beyond the end of the world. Its mind numbing how while you are suppossedly partying and socialising, you are literally on a leash of all kinds.Its almost a robotic existence, even if I may say so at the cost of sounding extremely dramatic.Just drape your Saree; all other civilised attire is out of bounds for social purposes, smile at everyone, take a bow, lick some ass and call it GRACE and REGIMENTATION.

I'm not prepared to play this hideous game.It's almost like being a Page 3 wannabe. It's far too ridiculous for my pride and dignity. I just wanted to be my man's wife and that's all I am ready for.

Yesterday was one of those rare days of me being myself and actually loving the Army after a long time. Sitting in that noisy, mangled mass of metal called the Mahindra Jeep and riding aimlessly on endless expanses of sand, dust and gravel in search of a dam. The destination which definitely didn't justify the pain and rigour of the journey was FUN all the way, for the simple reason that, for a change, we did something we wanted to and not something we had to. The experience, HENCE, was pleasurable regardless of whatever it entailed.
Yesterday was the Army I fell in love with as a kid.