Socialite?

This morning someone said, “Oh Z, you are one socialite!!!”

I was ready to jump into the lake, at the Sultanpur Bird Sanctuary which is where we were, with very unpleasant visions of me a` la Bina Ramani, drippin’ in diamonds, blowing kisses in the air, doing social chit-chat and wondered what I had done to/with myself to evoke such a comment! I looked down at myself, as much below my well-developed bosom as my eyes could go, I furtively patted my behind and reassured myself that I still had all that flab and was nowhere looking sexy and size zero. I tried to recall when I had last held a champagne flute in my hand at one of these lah di lah parties and remembered that it had been in Perugia, Italy at a felicitation function in 2007. I touched my neck, earrings and wrists and was happy to see that my junk jewellery was still that – junk; no diamantes n rubies.

Then what the hell prompted that comment? Curiosity could have killed the cat but I just had to walk up to this person and ask what she meant. What does the lady in question say? ‘Hey Z, you manage to attend all these lovely music evenings and poetry sessions and plays. Wish I could be as alive and active and mobile as you are”.  I quietly explained to her that I was culturally inclined and involved but not at all prone to being a Pg 3-ite and she said, “But that’s what I meant. I admire you and was paying you a compliment for all the social activities you manage to do”.

As we walked along the talk turned to age. Not feeling old at all but suddenly the looming 47 sounded a bit on the other side. At our walk this morning there were some nice young people and we were joking and laughing and getting to know each other. One of them reacted to one of my statements saying, “Uff you sound just like my Mom” (I’d offloaded some gyaan about how everyday one can learn something, that the fun never stops etc) and I retorted, ” Well, you never know Sid, I probably am half her age” . To his ” How old ARE you” when I said, “47”, he looked at me with….what?  Renewed admiration perhaps? Affection perhaps?  And a new respect? Whereas, I thought for the first time, m’god, in about 27 days am gonna be 47…it’s not OLD but it ain’t all that young either.

 Am not fretting and I still feel as fun and bindaas and serious and sweet and crazy and flirtatious and mad as always but there is the thought too in my head of so much to do, a child to bring up, weight to release, things to accomplish, places to travel, songs to sing, stories to write.

 How much more time do I have?

 And if after all that, I am just a socialite? Then?

 

 

Note to readers: This was a post written on December 4, 2011, two years to this day, but still holds as good. Except that the 47 in the post should now read as 49. 🙂

 Enjoy life; you’ll never get out of it alive!

 

 

 

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