The Talk Broke Down

Haan, so I'm done being mopey. Especially since I came across some rather fierce intellectual posturing at a gender and development seminar and a homosexuality seminar both in the city. The first gem, from a rather portly babu with a warbly voice, white safari suit, a man-purse and absolutely no point to make. "I ask you, why are there no men in the 'Mahila Panchayat' (women's grassroot governance organizations)?' Er....um......eh!?! 'Beekaaaz there should be some space for men to express their feelings too......' Er...um....eh!?Uncle, all the space outside the Mahila Panchayat would be that space for men no? Oi oi oi well-meaning liberalistas are the most dangerous. Hehehe where are the men in the Mahila Panchayat.....hahahahaha! The other came from a lesbian poet in the city whose verse rather graphically and much to my gastronomic discomfort, implied that eating a woman's pussy is like eating Kallu halwai's phirni. Er.....um.......eh? And I suppose fellatio is like going for the kulfi-faluda. Hahahahaha!


Thanks for sympathetic messages peoples but no more. It's the season of break-ups form what I gather.



Where would this blog be without hobo's sagas of heartbreak eh? Nowhere. It certainly wouldn't have started without the dissolution of all things Lambu. And now yet another break up to break the lull that had set in on my committment to the blog. Why write when I'm hurting? Reassurance. It's so nice to know that everyone gets shafted. Those who haven't been should just wait a while. So please pour in the sympathy friends. At some selfish level I'm shattered because Z was going to be my bastion of support while I settled in to unknown Germania and settled in to the unknown. If nothing else he'd be a weekend retreat. A repreive away from loneliness. Now, now I know that I've signed a contract with my firm that banishes me to complete solitude. And I'm gonna hate it. Fucking eh Karma!!! It was gonna be hard for me anyway but thanks! Thanks for this. Not the first time either. The last time I moved out of The Bubble in to the unknowns of London I did it wading through the gulf of grief that was all I had left from Lambu. I waded through that, I don't think this one's gonna be that hard. But still. It hurts.


To be fair, this one was a long while coming. I was surprised that we even made this leap. I did have questions about how we would make it work and the answer is we can't. We're too self-absorbed. I have my life and schedule and has his. But still. It hurts. I made the same mistakes as I always do. I fell for the wrong guy. Some girls are attracted to the bad boy, this gregarious little hobo is attracted to the quiet, emotionally retarded types. The ones who never know what they want but are always so certain of what they don't want. And she keeps understanding them, offering interminable patience and comfort at the cost of her own. She likes being the doormat, it makes her feel utile. 'Z is this working for you? Because if we don't speak for two weeks at a stretch and are irregular with email, then I can't say that works for me. I don't think I can put up with feeling neglected.' Go girl! Pull the rug from under his feet! I need to hold myself back for a while and wait now. Wait for the guy who knows what he wants because I know what I want and I can't lead anyone by the hand. 'Honestly heau-beau it's not. I don't like phones and emails and......' 'And? When did you plan to tell me this Z? Never right? Until I brought it up.' My voice isn't even quivering, it's chirpy. Break-ups in perfect worlds are cathartic passionate affiars, like the affair itself. Mine are like signing a 'Memorandum of Understanding'. I want this and this, you don't, so then.....fuck off? I always turn cheerful during a break-up, it's beneath me to let him know that I am slowly crumbling. What's the point? I'm not gonna bait him with tears, with 'why?' or 'hai! hai!' :)


'Read the granth for empowered women hobo'. If he's just not that in to you then don't waste the pretty. *Followed by the gurrrlfriend! finger snap uh uh uh!* I get it Oprah. I get it Women of the World. I get it. What I don't get is if he's just not that in to me, then why am I so in to him? Then again, this time round I wanted it to end too. But still. It hurts. It aches. It wells up as tears. It streaks down my cheeks. It's a nausea. It's a hunger strike. It's playing a sad song over and over again. Elton John 'I want love'. Robert Downey Jr. is the only love of my life anyway. Like him, I too want love but it's impossible. With a man like Z so irresponsible. A man like Z is dead in places. Don't feel nothing, he just feels cold. Don't feel love, just old scars. But that would be me.


He's not. He just 'didn't know' (it's the phrase that would go on his epitaph, 'I don't know.') what a long distance relationship entails. And he didn't know that even though he comes across as the more emotionally unavailable fucktard, no one but no one knows how to maintain emotional muteness as I. He doesn't know that I still harbour hopes. Though he killed them, my hopes, in saying that it's hard for him to be in to me when he can't see me. Then why can I da? Women noooooo, it's sooooooooo easy for us to lower the defenses and then be trampled underfoot. Everytime we emerge from the wreckage, disshevled hair and tattered clothes (with heart prints hah!) and all, we always wear the same look of confuzzlement. Like, 'what just happened?'. What did just happen? We were a highly compatible pair with little passion and little excitement, a pair that to me was the anti-thesis of the instability with Lambu, a haven; and now that haven's no more and hobo's had to crawl out from her hole to acknowledge for once that what she's looking for is love. And if Z can't give it then she'll just find it elsewhere. But Z doesn't even know that hobo likes him enough to still have hopes of impassioned reunions. Why? That's the thing with me. For all my verbiage, I can't say what I mean. I can't show him my tears, I can't show my excitement upon meeting him and I cannot ever tell him that he meant something. Because I'm afraid of moments like these. Moments where the wind's knocked out of you and an entire harvest of dreams is razed to the ground. But there's no escaping moments like these. I've finally learnt it! And I'm finally unafraid of them.


So for the next month we won't allow each other to preclude other 'possibilities' and then when we meet up in London if there is some attraction then all good. If not, then not no. What to do? I do know, instincts have been blaring this message to me all day, it's over. Period. That I know. But still. It hurts.