Thursday, October 31, 2013

The Many Loves of AtomicGitten

Certain changes have occurred in my small universe. Singular, I am. Single, I no longer am.The majority of my acquaintanceship received this revelation with shock and/or disbelief. Some even asked for proof. But, long story short (for a change), they had to finally accept the facts. Which is when the condolences began to pour in. To the guy in the picture. Incorrigible friends aside, the advent of an official partner demands that I lay to rest all the tendres I nursed in my passionate heart till date. Not that there were hoardes of exes--I AM fastidious-- but the few that were, were loved enough to warrant a real farewell. And what better place to pay tribute than the dear blog? So, in ascending order of intensity of affection, I present:

The Many Loves of AtomicGitten

*For the purpose of brevity all fictional beloveds will be excluded from this list. Sorry Tamahome.  And Jamie Fraser. And John Thornton as played by Richard Armitage. And Benedick. And Darcy. And Colin Firth as Darcy. And Scott Summers . And Alladin. And Rick O Connell from The Mummy. And-- Ok enough.

Devon Sawa:
Mostly for his sweet, friendly and utterly glah-worthy cameo in Casper  circa 1995. An all-round good-guy, endowed with occult mystique (what with being a ghost and all)-- what a combination.He was a noble spirit with an endearing vulnerability which could even render a decidedly creepy line cute. Plus he was blonde! My eight year old soul was dazzled.
This affection stayed steady until a combination of age (his), and awareness (mine) brought home the fact that he had a gap in his teeth. And apparently I was fastidious about dental work. Though this shift may also be attributed to the next great love that came my way.
Which was--
Aravind Swamy:
Somewhere along the multiple Independence and Republic Days with their inevitable re-telecast of the Mani Ratnam masterpiece Roja, the author began to realise that the protagonist was quite a dreamboat. Aravind Swamy in Roja was everything a hero aught to be. Not just a pretty face but smart too, he packed a potent punch with poignant civilian bravery and the ability to romance a girl right off her small-town-feet. Plus he he had a sense of humour--The thirteen year old heart fluttered. Said thirteen year old heart was even willing to overlook facial hair, until he began losing head-hair and gaining paunch. And the author could never stomach a paunch in her love interest.The caprice and shallowness of youth perhaps; but such is life.
Percy Bysshe Shelley:
The original wild-child, "Mad Shelley" swaggered into my heart with literary pizzazz and a lingering note of loneliness in his voice that made one want to sit down with him, talk to him, and unwittingly fall in love with him-- even when one knows he is bad news. After all, a man must be a special kind of amazing to write something like this. But his bigamy, questionable notions of fidelity and universal notoriety placed insurmountable impediments in the path of our true love. That, and the fact that he was dead. It wouldn't have worked out anyway.
Pablo Neruda:
I dare any woman with a beating heart to read this and not feel anything. Or this, for that matter. I believe I have made my case. But, to misquote Bob Dylan, he was born in summer and I was born too late. Sigh... Tonight I can write the saddest lines. But I will resist the urge.
Any man who can melt knee joints with just the caress of his crystal voice, is a formidable contender for a woman's heart. And mine was forfeited with the first soaring note. Watching KK live in concert was one of my biggest mistakes; it rendered me a drooling idiot for days to come. A voice like the brush on an angels wing (ok, a little hyperbolic there) and enough energy to power a medium sized district combined with a pleasant personality and a sense of humour made him the complete package. Plus, he was Mallu! That too from Trichur!-The parents would be pleased. Unfortunately, he was also married, with two kids, and nineteen years older. Dammit. And now I sit and hum 'Tadap Tadap'.
Tom Hiddleston:
As his deadly, underhand charm-- evidenced in his adept wooing of Catherine Valois in The Hollow Crown-- would show, Tom Hiddleston seems to be burdened with the glorious purpose of turning you into a puddle of mush before you can say  "St.Crispin's Day'. Not only is he talented, well-read and funny, he also does impressions and talks to the cookie monster! Oh can a man be more adorable? A few months of frenetic youtube-stalking later, I find he has a girlfriend. Oh the pain. I soothe myself with the sound of his poetry reading voice.
:Gael Garcia Bernal
There is very little defense against raw talent and an ability to incinerate your thought processes with one scorching green glance. Combine this with intelligence, social consciousness, an endearing streak of self-deprecating humour and the most unexpected smile on a face that can go from impish to the opposite with the flick of an eyebrow, one might as well raise the white flag. It also helps that the first time the author clapped eyes on him he was riding a motorcycle.
While his face alone is cause enough for mindless admiration, what truly ensnares is his astounding talent. To watch him perform is an awe-inspiring experience leaving you fascinated with not just what you watch, but also the passion that fuels such intensity. And it is fairly obvious by now that the author has a penchant for the passionate, talented and charismatic.
Just when her blood decided that his was the gaze that would electrify the corpuscles, he got married to his co-star. Ah how shall I cool the fire in my blood? And here I thought you would help wean me away from my undying affection for the last person on this list...
James McAvoy:
In an alternate universe we are busy redefining romance and making all our acquaintances amused with /irritated with/ sick of/sigh wistfully at our obvious affection for each other and our dazzling cuteness.
But, this is not an alternate universe.
James McAvoy was love at first movie (Which wasn't even one of his best movies); watching Becoming Jane demolished any hope that I can escape cupid's nefarious plot (damn that fat baby). His entire filmography and most of his interviews later, I remained smitten. Not even the embarrassing Bollywood Queen could cool my ardor! So much talent, so much charm and the ability to twist your heart into unimaginable shapes just with the glint in his blue, blue eyes... sigh.. he was my sunshine.
And now, I can never go to Scotland.
Should our paths cross, he would obviously fall head over heels in love with me and I will be responsible for breaking up his marriage. Better by far that he lives in ignorant bliss, while I carry this brand in my chest. As Auden so sentimentally put it, "If equal affection cannot be,/Let the more loving one be me."
But there is always the alternate universe.

And so, I lay to rest my erstwhile loves in the hope that reality proves infinitely superior to my imaginings. True, the poor man has an up hill task, but my line of work tells me that people have a tendency to rise to a challenge. And with that gauntlet thrown, I return to my stewing thesis.

Sunday, October 27, 2013


Many thanks to Rikosama and Moongoddess for their part in these insights

A logical progression of inferences:

A woman's intelligence is not directly proportional to her choice in men.
A woman's intelligence is not directly proportional to her relationship status.
A woman's intelligence is not directly proportional to her logical conclusions.