At the stroke of this ungodly hour, when the world sleeps, I woke up to a realisation: The realisation that it had been six whole months since I'd been waking up and sleeping on a bed - in a room - in a house - which is not all-mine. Since sharing private physical spaces has always been a bit of an issue with me, I didn't think it possible - or easy, at any rate - to sail through a half of a year with another person, whose habits of existence, in spite of all the love I feel for him, were almost entirely unknown to me, except for in snatches!
Surprisingly however, it is in these six months that I've had my real (and embarrassingly late) foray into adulthood - as I've learnt to be responsible not just for my own self, but of another human being, in every possible sense - material and otherwise. I've learnt to get accustomed to stubbing cigarette butts on floors or window sills when ashtrays get locked in the fridge; to know that shampoo bottles need not "necessarily" be capped after use; that he may legitimately scream out 'Foul Foul!' in his dreams, flailing the limbs around, while remaining blissfully oblivious to the fact that 'yours truly' may have toppled over on the floor; that it's okay for me to oil my hair and tie it in an unattractive bun before going to sleep, not worrying if the sight or smell might make him cringe; to be able to fall asleep comfortably even as the light stays on as he writes; to still be able to read on rainy afternoons knowing he'll take care of the laundry; to learn to sacrifice my favourite tee in the greater cause of mopping the vomit of drunken friends.
Bottomline (At the risk of saccharine extolling or hurting delicately radical sensibilities): I have a boy room-mate who's taken away my fear of sharing spaces and sharing lives in all their unrefined and crude glories; teaching me instead, that freedom is being able to decide if you want to be bound. I feel free, yes. So...Thank You, Sourya...?
Surprisingly however, it is in these six months that I've had my real (and embarrassingly late) foray into adulthood - as I've learnt to be responsible not just for my own self, but of another human being, in every possible sense - material and otherwise. I've learnt to get accustomed to stubbing cigarette butts on floors or window sills when ashtrays get locked in the fridge; to know that shampoo bottles need not "necessarily" be capped after use; that he may legitimately scream out 'Foul Foul!' in his dreams, flailing the limbs around, while remaining blissfully oblivious to the fact that 'yours truly' may have toppled over on the floor; that it's okay for me to oil my hair and tie it in an unattractive bun before going to sleep, not worrying if the sight or smell might make him cringe; to be able to fall asleep comfortably even as the light stays on as he writes; to still be able to read on rainy afternoons knowing he'll take care of the laundry; to learn to sacrifice my favourite tee in the greater cause of mopping the vomit of drunken friends.
Bottomline (At the risk of saccharine extolling or hurting delicately radical sensibilities): I have a boy room-mate who's taken away my fear of sharing spaces and sharing lives in all their unrefined and crude glories; teaching me instead, that freedom is being able to decide if you want to be bound. I feel free, yes. So...Thank You, Sourya...?
1 comment:
that actually sounds like a wonderful experience...
Post a Comment