I Want My Money Back
August 13th, 2006 | Published in dispatch | 17 Comments
Seems like each time I go to India, I don’t get my money’s worth. I mean, the Western media constantly sells us the idea that if you go to India you’ll find yourself, failing which, at least some semblance of peace after the requisite soul searching. Well, Hollywood, I want my money back. Each time I go to India, the only people who seem to get any soul searching done are my girls back home, without having to spend any time, money, or effort to come all the way to India, join an ashram, or talk to Standing Babas.
How does Hollywood expect us to find ourselves, when we’re so busy out here? I’m too busy trying to keep my life in the mad traffic, staying out of the trajectory of yet another fast-spinning neighbourhood/backlane cricket player, holding on to rickshaws that go against traffic and almost defy gravity, and staying out of the shitting distance of the thousands of holy cows. I don’t have time to find myself, or anything luxurious like that. Or maybe I need to pay the Oshos and the Hare Krishnas to find it for me.
Anatomy of an Indian heartbreak: in my vast experience, goes something like this - a sucession of awkward 600 rupee calls, an awkward presence at the airport gate, an awkward drive from Changi to Clementi, and the awkward silence that is the first night home in my bed without the person I’d waited a month to see, not tonight or ever again.
Darjeeling, Agra, Goa, Meghalaya - each of these places contain pieces of my heart. I think I need to see a shrink, and the first thing I’ll say to her is: nobody ever leaves me because I’m always the heartbreaker - but it’s only when I go to India, karma gets back at me. And of course I just had to round up my trip and misery by ending in Bangkok, where you and I found each other in Sukhumvit.
750 rupees for the Taj Mahal, and 700 rupees for that phonecall, so I guess we’re even now, and 18 months is dead in just an hour but you know I had to save myself for release. As though the weather agreed with me, it began to pour outside the moment I stopped crying, though that didn’t do any good because all I thought was of you and Palolem.
August 13th, 2006 at 4:09 pm (#)
of course you know that you will be fine– and as a gay/indian/ \”shrink\” –i can only tell you that this catharsis (literal and figurative) will make the pain a little less harder to bear.
August 13th, 2006 at 5:17 pm (#)
Be well
August 13th, 2006 at 6:41 pm (#)
As India would have made known, life moves on.
August 13th, 2006 at 8:05 pm (#)
babe… hang on.
August 13th, 2006 at 10:31 pm (#)
You will find your calm amidst the storm within the eye [of the typhoon] wrecking through your life. :) Be well.
August 14th, 2006 at 2:28 am (#)
adri. i left you an sms the moment i heard, i want to meet up. and i want to buy you lousy coffee.
do you hear me!!??
chin up love, tis too shall pass
August 14th, 2006 at 2:38 am (#)
with you.
August 14th, 2006 at 3:13 am (#)
when u come home we will:
1. not talk about it
2. get sloshed while listening to tapes of hindi songs, radiohead and boyband music i know you like.
3. rant and rave, as well as bite the throat of someone who suggests that the political economy of singapore is kind and progressive, and has equalised opportunities for all,in class. again.
4. swear in malay.
5. go for sexystickyfingerpudding at marmalade pantry, after we eat 2 irishmen’s portion of fried pub grub.
6. cry for a bit.
and repeat all of the above, in random order, over and over again.
August 14th, 2006 at 9:28 am (#)
This might not be the ending.
August 14th, 2006 at 10:04 am (#)
i’m so sorry.. feel better soon..
August 14th, 2006 at 10:53 am (#)
Honey child - please call your Godma when you feel like it - big hugs and all manner of godmotherly indulgence. bisous!
August 14th, 2006 at 3:13 pm (#)
I think about how it might have been
We’d spend our days travelin’
It’s not that I don’t understand you
It’s not that I don’t want to be with you
But you only wanted me
The way you wanted me
So, I will head out alone and hope for the best
And we can hang our heads down as we skip the goodbyes
You can tell the world what you want them to hear
I’ve got nothing left to lose, my dear
So, I’m up for the little white lies
But you and I know the reason why
I’m gone, and you’re still there
I’ll buy a magazine searching for your face
From coast to coast, or whatever I find my place
I’ll track you on the radio
And I’ll sign your list in a different name
But as close as I come to you
It’s not the same
So, I will head out alone and hope for the best
We can pat ourselves on the back and say that we tried
And if one of us makes it big
We can spill our regrets
And talk about how the love never dies
But you and I know the reason why
I’m gone, and you’re still there
So, steal the show
And do your best to cover the tracks that I have left
I wish you well and hope you find whatever you’re looking for
The way I might’ve changed my mind
But you only showed me the door
So, I will head out alone and hope for the best
We can pat ourselves on the back and say that we tried
And if one of us makes it big
We can spill our regrets
And talk about how the love never dies
But you and I know the reason why
Reason Why by Rachael Yamagata
August 14th, 2006 at 3:13 pm (#)
Adri, I’m terribly sorry. I’m beaming all my strongest and warmest good vibes your way, now and always. You are wonderful, Adri…
August 14th, 2006 at 9:10 pm (#)
I’m sorry, too. I hope you feel better soon.
August 14th, 2006 at 11:59 pm (#)
Stay beautiful.
August 15th, 2006 at 10:31 am (#)
hope things do fall into place. till then, take care of yourself.
August 16th, 2006 at 7:46 am (#)
i’m sorry to hear that.. hugs please take care of yourself, girl.