You remember that one time I wanted to dance in the rain. You remember? Well well how can I be sure that I wanted it. I mean you know that dainty girl who used to live beside our house. She used to love dancing in the rain. And then I realised it was her lovely looks in abject monsoons that brought people with flowers at her doorstep.

I wanted to be her. I was always born a narcissist. I know it sounds even more bad when one is straight away accepting it. I can see my mother raising her eyebrow. She always told me, “Its these people who you keep calling LS LS (low society) they will one day rise to become your boss”. Oh how true she got things. I don’t want to name the girl from my class but then she is joining tomorrow and I will be under her. Reporting to her, my new boss.

What’s ego got to do with it?

One may ask. Often do in fact. And as a narcissist my extremities of ego or self respect ( a milder version of crime which is in fact a golden quality) are wide. Very wide. Where people begin to say its ego I start to use those lines to fence the self respect boundaries.

What’s ego got to do with it?

I wanted to remain happy always. I was born a nomad. Even today honey I want to say I love you forever. But then suddenly there are moments I know I will not be able to do that. Because one day I will ask.

What’s ego got to do with it?

You would say its you who proposed me. If I told you it was because Sneha wanted me to get hitched at 24. It was her idea of perfect life. And it suited me.

I never want anyone to get ahead of me. No I don’t and so you know what I eventually land up with? A little bit of everything. I am almost a writer. And almost engineer and one would say an almost perfect wife. But then you tell me why didn’t I make it big like Asmita. Why couldn’t I follow her steps into IIT?

What’s ego got to do with it?

I had done all that out of self respect. I am serious. I wanted to be successful. I just didn’t know what that idea was? Whether it was Asmita’s or Lavanya’s? I actually juggled doing both. But then it was difficult to become an engineer and a doctor. I chose to be an engineer. A lot of them thought of it as a dream. It was the ultimate way to overpower many of them and their dreams. Which was my only dream.

What’s ego got to do with it?

This house we bought. You remember how happy I was when we did. Well I never told you but Anjali used to live downstairs and everytime she spoke of the view from her balcony I wanted it for myself. And when we shifted our bed right next to the door adjacent to the balcony and I said, ” How lovely it is!”.

I lied. I hated it. I never knew she was so wrong about what was considered pretty! Anjali I mean our own Anjali she always bought the best dresses in college. I remember wearing her mauvish one to my first date with you. Mauvish. I still love that colour. I do. No No don’t look at me like this.

What’s ego got to do with it?

They say mauve is the new red. Yes of course all fashion bibles. And then Anjali has a well stocked wardrobe of mauve dresses. Now you must be wondering why don’t I wear it too often? Because it doesn’t suit me. Its damn sexy a colour but well it dulls my complexion a bit. But it is still my favourite.

What’s ego got to do with it?

Now now I know why you are laughing at me. But then its something I have wondered for long. Why do I always begin toying around this question? Why do our regular tea sessions always get centered around this one weird thing? This ego thing. I want to be happy and well I do everything that others do. I make sure I retrace their steps of happiness. But well I stumble. I fall till I break a leg.

Like the time I wanted to go for professional fencing. I remember I broke a leg and almost lost an eye. The better eye which doesn’t require spectacles. But Sanjeeda was so happy doing fencing. She is now a national champion of course. She never did well in studies though. Always mocked my engineering dreams.

What’s ego got to do with it?

Yes yes this is what I wanted to ask you. I have started to write a book darling. I don’t know how it would be. No one I know has ever done that. And well I don’t know if I will be happy. But its strange I don’t know if I will be happy but yet everytime I pick a pen to write I feel something tingle inside. It must be ego. Right? This I feel is quite an inflated ego, to imagine that I can write. I can do something no one else has. I should be ashamed to be happy. But then I am happy. What can I say? I know this time my narcissism has taken me way into the realms of ego away from self respect.

I will fall flat. Imagine me going crazy writing, thinking I will be happy in my own world. A world which no one I know has even dreamed of! Fencing was better, it was less egoist as I would want to say.

What’s ego got to do with it?