Renewing vows won't seal it, doing groceries will.

I spend the last weekend with my friend and her husband of two years. She has been inviting me to spend some time with her and also to get to know her husband better. As I landed in her city, the topic of love crossed my mind more than once, We would discuss love, and I'd get tips on how giving space is a horrible thing, how love requires work, sacrifice and being scarily honest. I knew it would be the weekend of love.
The moment I stepped inside their apartment , the first thing i notice was love. It was everywhere - in the air, on the refrigerator, in the closets, in the curios, on the walls, in their hearts and right above the wash basin. Touché. They are the most loved-up couple I've ever met. No, there was no queasy PDA, everything was cute, playful, romantic and often childlike. They pray every evening. Together. They do their groceries, holding hands. He leads her from one aisle to another with his hand gently around her waist. This is love alright. He likes the horror and the super natural, she likes the soap-sob stories. He likes his steak, she loves her soy. They have found their in-betweenness, holding hands. Even in a crowd, they are together, a couple in love. Even the guy who served us coffee could tell, and not because they were gazing into each others eyes. If this isn't love, what is?
Yesterday, on my way to the airport, we were discussing their plans for their second anniversary, which is just 2 days away. I told them, their kind of love deserved something regal, something that's not everyday. Something that you and I don't do. Something like renewing vows in exotic locales like Heidi Klum and Seal do... of course I was just trying to be funny. But if there's any couple I know, who could possibly do that, it would be this one.
This morning, dailymail.co.uk tells me Heidi Klum and Seal are separating, after 3 kids, 7 years and as many renewed vows later. Duh! yeah.
Dear Heidi and Seal... before you sigh those damned papers, may I urge you to go to the nearest Trader Joe's, pick some steak, tofu and strawberries, holding hands...

The importance of a sucker punch and why comfort is a bad, bad word.

You are in your sweet little cornucopia... hours, days and months go by, every bit the way you had imagined. You have more than just a vague idea of how the future will look like. Life is predictable, in a good way. And if you are a little lucky, you might just have a few surprises too on the way. Of course there are ups and downs. The ups and downs you have learnt to tread. It's your world after all. 'Lucky me', you gush, follow it with a knock on the wood, or sometimes you just give these rituals a miss. Saving them for those not-so-often celebratory moments of life. Your everyday life isn't nothing special. It's just normal. This is how it's meant to be. This is how it should be. You don't know any other way. You take your life and the people around you for granted, the way you think they have. You don't know better, or worse?... and then something hits you hard. A sucker punch. It'll take you a while to understand what just happened. And when you finally do, you realize, the world that you thought would thrive on its own, has in a way, ended. You look at yourself, closely. You put your every action, every habit, every moment under scrutiny. You start doubting the life you have lived, the choices you've made. You are left with questions, so many of them. You are begging for answers.
And then with time, you emerge from the wreck, not stronger, not wiser, not any less sadder but with a realization, that you've perhaps been a little too comfortable. Too oblivious to the world, that was changing. Comfort pushes you into an unreal world. It's the first step of being in denial. It also numbs you. Comfort makes you forget why you are here. It makes you confuse priorities and fight battles that are of no importance at all. Comfort is a bad word. Don't wish for comfort. It's not going to be pretty.
And as I write this, I realize, I'm dressed rather comfortably.
Tell me stilettos don't hurt.