To My 3 AM Musings

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The saga of groom hunting

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Every year, my landlord conveys his dire wish to my parents to receive my wedding card. Every year, I convey my dire wish to him to renew my rent agreement as well as my "singlehood." I wonder if I have disappointed other Gods as much as Cupid. He must be whining from above at my destiny, "This woman, what a waste!" more so because he must have manifested himself in hundreds of forms through hundreds of friends or random strangers, but each time, each time I have miserably failed him. While my Gods have given up on me, my parents have not. They have everything I lack- an undeterred vision, determination, and dedication to steer me through this ride of groom hunting. You see, the only thing consistent throughout the 28 years of my existence is that I am an average, plain Jane in all aspects alike. So, I get intimidated and overwhelmed by flowery adjectives and fancy titles used in the bio and preference section of the prospects that show up on the matrimonial apps.
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Confessions of a 30-year-old grandma

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These days, I don't bother racking my brains much. When it comes to even drafting an online complaint about a botched service, I let Generative AI do the heavy lifting. My energy, instead, is wholeheartedly focused on filling my virtual cart before hitting "order" on the grocery app. The last thing I need is another delivery fee, thanks to forgotten ingredients! It feels like a distant dream now, the freedom to spin words and create something from scratch, without the incessant buzz of pending chores or ticking deadlines. The last time I attempted to write, I remember locking the door and plastering a "Do Not Disturb" label on it. That's the level of focus I need these days. Also, this might sound odd, but while I value staying in touch with people, the mere thought of phone calls sets my nerves on edge. When I dial back, I desperately hope they don't pick up. Music, parties, or booze? Sounds like a recipe for bliss, right? Not in my case. At the first w
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An ode to the mundane

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It has been over a year since I actually penned anything new. It has been over a year since I tied the knot, too. No, no, no, I don’t mean to say that my marriage has anything to do with my creative block. That is, just, you know, an FYI. I summon all my muses I used to exploit before. Heartbreak, loneliness, rejection, existential crisis,  So on and so forth. None of them comes to my rescue now. Only our housekeeping aunt cares to answer my call somehow. “Didi aj kaam pe nehi ayenge, beemar hai”. Escapes, then and there. All my poetic endeavours. Straight out of the window,  Anticipating the add-on chores. You see, the apartment we have rented here in Bangalore is over twenty years old. A plethora of its daily tantrums, we get to behold. A tap leaks, a fan squeaks and something, somewhere, breaks apart the next day. This is just the least to say. The fridge stinks, the laundry overflows and the furniture gathers dust. My poor brain left with no other choice, has to attend to those fir
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