I Deserve Better

I came to Delhi with the Express Intention of slumming it out, to live rough and on the edge for a year. Somehow that sounded like a really good thing to do when I set out. If I'm going to live away from family I might as well do it different, renouncing worldly comforts I've taken for granted for 21 years. Since the world is a weird place, I need to brace myself for everything and a year away seemed like the perfect practice.

And I've turned out to be spectacularly wrong. It's not like I'm not suited to living on my own, my ability to adjust is crazily good. It's almost scary how easy I find it to change myself depending on the demands of a situation. Anyway, the point is, I can't do it anymore. Correction, I don't want to do it, I'm sick of adapting quickly and would ideally love to return home. But since that isn't happening, its time to ramp up my lifestyle here.

I'm bored of Dayanand Colony, sick of the tiny room which has served as my dwelling the past two months and would love to be taken in by some family with a spare room and decent internet connectivity. Then I'm reminded I'm not exactly rolling in cash and pipe down for a while. I've spent the the last 15 days piping down and it's a sucky feeling now. Suddenly, I don't give a shit. To hell with austerity and all that jazz, frugality can jump out the fucking window and hermit-ness can kiss my bursting ass tomorrow morning. I'm breaking up with modesty for good (for a year) and I just want to live better.

I don't have a job, the 18 grand earned at Bombay international airport earlier this year shows no sign of turning up but I don't care a fuck. I have a family with enough money to see me through and I'm allowing that offer to rot in the bank. If this isn't the act of some selfless nut bent on sacrifice where it isn't due, I'm going to hump a monkey.

The folks are crying out for me to move out to someplace better, to haul my rapidly rising girth about and scout for potential paradise and my explanation, “Do you know how fucking hard it is to find a new place? And besides, I like it here, it's alright and will do” suddenly sounds just a little weak. Hold on, fuck that last bit. I HAVE NO REASON TO DEGRADE MYSELF TO PUTTING UP WITH THIS HELL-HOLE. What the hell am I trying to prove to myself and what could I possibly get out of it? I'm torturing myself, I've become a damned masochist along with Delhi-ite. Who drilled into my head that I'm supposed to live out a compromise? That I'm supposed to accept second best and that I can put up with this unacceptable situation till August 2012 and expect to be the same kid that boarded the Rajdhani on August 30, 2011?

Clearly, I've taken this shit too far and too seriously and need to be re-educated on the goodness of creature comforts and standard of living conducive to the well-being of normal human beings whose family can afford to put them up nicely in distant lands. I know I should be doing this in my head but I've learnt that in crunch situations I always back out of making the brave decision. I'm convinced only verbal third degree can now cure me of my dangerous self-harming tendencies.

It's time to go. I'm tired of my dusty bed, that bastard Nishant who needs some consideration spanked into him, tired of having his bed sit next to mine. I hate how Anoop keeps barging in and making himself at home in my room, I hate how he eats his dinner on my bed when I'm not around. I want to kill him but he's doing me a big favour by moving out of this place and out of my life forever. I hate how cramped this room is in spite of what I've told the folks. I hate the cockroaches I find scurrying around in my cupboard every time I open it. I hate having to live in a place my family is ashamed of and wouldn't subject their maid to. I hate how it doesn't live up to the standards of cleanliness and order I've been surrounded by all my life and how it borders on the filthy. I hate that I have no life here and having to take to washing clothes and immersing myself in the laptop just to have something to do. I hate having to wake up at 7.30 am each day just to protect my slot in the bathroom and how that doesn't give me time to go for a jog. I'm eating like crazy and putting my eight-pack on the brink of extinction. I'll never be able to live with myself if that happens. I hate having to arrive here each evening at the end of a fabulous day at Express and having to think “What kind of fucken life is this?” just before entering the threshold.

There's a reason there are very few people I truly hate, that's because I'm my biggest enemy. Only I have the power to screw my life over till it's not funny anymore. And I've realised I need to wage war against the formidable combination of my brain and my perverted sense of self-righteousness. And I must win if I want to be happy until August. The human mind is the greatest battlefield in the world, forgot who first said this. Whoever you are, thanks for the gyaan. Time to do myself this one little favour.