Uski Safedi Meri Safedi

It’s the banker’s curse that she was born with insane urges to write and an inborn talent of thinking that it helps her destress. It feels like coming home, coming back to blogspot. The goddess is at the brink of that stage in life where 24 hours become tight to pack in all that one wants, needs, and has to do. And the goddess stands corrected. Banking and writing do not go together.

Coming back to the topic at hand. Part of tagline of popular ad. Worked wonders. This line got stuck in the psyches of everyone who watches TV. But for me it’s the one feeling I see in everyone without fail. Sometimes subtle, muted, but always there. Some everyday examples:

‘So you think she’s prettier than I am?’

‘I need a bigger car man.’

‘That wire over there…what do you think that is? It’s not bothering you? Oho…obviously, your house is rented no? Bothers me because this house is my own.’

‘That guy got sent to the UK after a mere four months.’

‘My cash-in-hand is a bit less, but hey, I got too many other perks, customary laptop, Blackberry, yearly trips to the US, and I can work from home, too!’

And something I said myself. ‘She does NOT have a better blog!’

And a classic one. Married friend to bachelor, ‘Married life rocks!’

Now, I have nothing against the feeling. I get too much of it myself anyway. It’s quite a motivator. But what is it called? Jealousy? Competition? One-upmanship? I like to think of it as a way to tell myself that those levels, are achievable. Just because someone has demonstrated it, by getting there himself. But I don’t like the fact that it is so outer-directed. It’s like being dependent on an outside force to bring out a better you. I’m not preaching, but it makes me feel helpless to depend on something out of me to show me which stars can be reached. Earning hefty dollar salaries before I turn 24. Snagging a successful husband, having beautiful kids, and managing my life like supermodel-cum-supermom. Cooking up a mean prawn curry with steamed rice, and baking the best cookies in the world, at the same time rattling off facts and figures in morning meetings with my team, wearing Bipasha suits like in Corporate. Writing such a sexy piece on my blog that it gets picked up by some really popular site and takes it unimaginable heights, so much so that I get offers from publishers. Having effortlessly sleek, manageable hair, which stays put no matter which style I whip up.

And everytime someone will get to even a little of all this, I will feel, ‘Uski Safedi Meri Safedi se Zyada Kaise?’

And everytime I feel it, there will be some advertiser making big bucks out of a kick-ass campaign, which feeds on the most deep-rooted feeling in a human. I still can’t name it jealousy. Till den, uski safedi.