This query by Anuradha led me spiralling down to the world of things I’m not sure of. I realized that even after being me for 27 years and 14 months, I am not sure what the colour of my eyes is. Not that I’m asked this question often. But the thought of being at loss of words, in case someone asks me, does make me shiver to my bones. This level of unawareness about oneself is unnatural according to one of my extra-critical friends. Nice as the friend is, he refused to look into my eyes and just give me an answer. Said it is too much of a hassle and he rather not take the risk. Much later, he confessed that he believed that he falls in love with the women in whose eyes he stares and he just did not want to take that risk with me. Such is life!
I’m yet to discover the food item for which I would be ready to kill. This one troubles me a lot as I am surrounded by people, who would be worthy contenders for the Noble Prize for Foodies if the Swedish, Danish and the Norwegian governments decide to introduce the category in the near future. I know what I don’t like, but I’m yet to know for sure, just a morsel of what will take me to heaven.
It is very embarrassing to admit that a colourful personality, like myself, is not sure what her favourite colour is. I love bright colours but if someone asks me what my favourite colour is, I draw a blank and reply alternately with white or black. Like everything I do in life (not really, just saying this to sound smart) there is a scientific reason behind these alternating answers—I remember reading in science class that white light breaks into colour when passed through a prism and was told in art class that all colours combine together to form black. I digress, but I think it is vital to the US economy’s recovery that I tell you that this ‘colour scheme’ taught to me in science and art classes kept me up several nights.
This exercise of the brain over things I like made me conclude that I am very sure of what I don’t like but I have no idea about what I like. As far as I can remember, the first question I have asked after listening to any love story is, “How did you know that he/she was the one?” Unfortunately, everyone has given me just one answer, “You just know.” This reply makes me go hmmmmmmmmmmm. In fact it has become quite a rehearsed reply over the years. First I say hmmmmmmmmmmm, then I nod my head as if I understand completely. Masking my confusion with a sigh, I turn around and get back to work or at least pretend to get back to work while trying to make sense of myriad questions doing a slide show in my head. Confusion prevails. I’m not sure!