Scribbler's Diaries

Definitely Confusing!



Yet seventy percent of the married population of the world belong to this category? It is as if romance, was a sweet dream and you wake up to reality where nothing of what you dreamt holds true!

I am talking about my editor. 'Blissfully married for 28 years' she likes to point out every time she has something to say about her married life. But somehow her nose twists at that weird angle, which it does when she has sniffed something obnoxious or distasteful, everytime she utters the words 'blissfully married.'

She wont miss one chance to take control of a conversation which centers around how egocentric, testerone driven, selfish and vain husbands can be! She wont back out of a chance of telling anybody with a listening year, how she sacrificed career and opportunity for almost a decade, just so as to please her husband and how unappreciated she felt during those ten years!

So why do you continue living with him? One asks her.

"Why he is my husband of course!"

Of course!

Her husband escorts her to one of out glam sham parties. He is ageing gracefully and what adds to his charm is his flawless dressing sense. There are times when one wonders whether he was better fit into our fashion field than his advertising one! We never dare say that in front of our editor though! He has impeccable ettiquettes and the smile never waivers off his face.

Yet a couple of cocktails down the line, his wife becomes the butt of all his jokes and daily dramas become a source of entertainment. Some steamy secrets become a source of embarassment and to the best of her abilities our editor puts a lid on her simpering temper with a sweet smile. But then there does come a point when the temper erupts and the lava of words which flows through makes every soul at the party a little awkward.

"This is so embarassing!" she huffs as she gathers her elegant stole more firmly around her straightened shoulders. They bid their farewells and drive him to, what I am sure constitutes a full blown fight! Yet, the next day the editor's secretary promptly has a message waiting for her by four pm.

Dinner with the Poonawallas at 8 pm it says.

"Denzil!" The editor barks in to the intercom " semi formal. Cocktail. I am thinking wine red. No back-less, its outdoors. I need neck-space, I am sure I am expected to flaunt the ruby necklace I was gifted last week. its quite a drab so I need the dress to make up for it. Dont keep it skimpy, for heaven's sake I am not twenty and I dont need to be reminded of it! Rough draft in half an hour!"

And they are off to yet another party. The happily married couple who lead different lives, have different friends, who make a cake of themselves everytime they are put together, probably even sleep in seperate rooms in their five bedroom house!

Happily Married.

I must admit they never did make sense to me!




If opposites attract, should similarities rebel? Why are then people constantly huddling in groups of people with similar interests?

I work for a fashion magazine. Thankfully my editor is a fuss pot and a stickler for looking right. Which means we get to take one day off, every two weeks, to pamper ourselves at the salon. Over citrus manicures and pedicures we take a break from GUCCI and Jimmy Choo, to talk about real people in our very real world.



Yesterday was one such day. As I sat beside Nisha [name obviously remodeled] we quite naturally lapsed into the very interesting conversation of relationships.

"You know Sash? I dont think I am going to marry Rahul after all!" she wriggled her toes in the water basin and watched the antiseptic melt into the water. Realising that I had not responded she looked towards me.

I just cocked a corny brow in response. We have had this very talk so many times, that even the girl who was doing our pedicures would have the story memorized by now. I settled further in my chair and let the sensation of warm water lapping at my feet wash over me. This was going to be a ong talk.

Smack! She whacked me with a mag! Rubbing an abused elbow I frowned at her.

"This is serious Sash! We have nothing in common!"

"Opposites attract sweetheart!" I said as I attempted to get comfortable again.

"Yeah right!" she countered. "When I want to watch Desperate Housewives and it clashed with his CIA. Which soap do we end up watching? Or do we end up in two different rooms with two different TV sets?"

She was glaring her question at me. Happily single, content with my occassional dates, I had no clue how to answer this question. So I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Or when I want to eat Italian, but he wants to hit the sports bar? Or when all I want to do on a Sunday is sit back and get lazy and he has an outing planned with friends?"

How does one answer these questions?

"Compromise!" I said, feeling brilliant about saying it too! "Every relation is about compromises. You give in some and then he gives in some!"

"Grow up Sash! Five years later, we are going to be flinging it in each other's faces about how compromising we had been and how not understanding the other one has been!"

I lapsed into a pondrous silence again.

"If you really love him," the girl who was doing Nisha's pedi said, as she toweled her feet dry, " you wont even realise you are compromising. You just do it because you love to see him happy. It really is not that much about similarities and differences."

The twenty first century woman - determined, decided and directed. Ambitions on par with those of her male competitors and more often than not, definitely more capable, professionally. Does that define a feminist?

A woman, nevertheless - confused, lost and scared. A woman as much in need of a warm hug and bubbling companionship as she would have been in any of the past centuries, or the very many centuries to come. Possessed by the need to feel important and wanted, beyond the professional confines. Nurturing the need to make that difference, not in the world, but in that one special life. A career pursuing fanatic whose dreams of fame and glory are interspersed with those of matrimony and motherhood.

Hi! I am Sasha and this is about me and those around me. This is my attempt to share what I see, so that observations may pave the way to conclusions. This is about work, pleasure, pain and joy. This is where I come alive.