The Mistress Of Vices

I would love to start this post by a clichéd line such as, "When I was a little girl growing up in big, bad Delhi... My mother taught me not to be a sinner." Alas, all half-veiled attempts at masking the true nature of this post will take away from it, so that's a no go.

When I was a little girl growing up in big, bad Delhi... My mother taught me one fundamental truth—you either live in society and follow its rules or you live outside it. Hence began my life long love-hate relationship with 'society'.
I like(d) ruffling feathers, breaking the mould and giving the gaping mouths something to gossip about. And being a sworn atheist, I embraced my one true religion completely. If you still haven't guessed it, its vice or sin if you please.
My personal mantra: "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls have all the fun!"
Before you shake your head disapprovingly, there are rebels without a cause and then there are sworn rebels. I never found conforming any fun and when it feels so good to be bad, why bother!

Vice (v[imac]s), n. [F., from L. vitium.]
A practice or habit that is considered immoral, depraved, and/or degrading in the associated society. In more minor usage, vice can refer to a fault, a defect, an infirmity, or merely a bad habit.
So even though all the holier than thou individuals look down on me from their moral high horses... I know that the truth is that we are all sinners. One way or the other. If you got something you love, if there is anything you crave, have a strong need or desire for... It is probably forbidden.

And that keen observation brings me to the Seven Deadly Sins or Capital Vices/Sins. A casual dekko at this hilarious list of condemned deeds got me thinking and then writing and then idling... Leading to this post 2 months in the making (lazy bum!)

Appropriately enough. Let's start with Sloth. Now the fact that this post was stewing in my drafts folder for over 60 days is proof enough of my laziness. On most mornings, my constant struggle to get out of bed without the prospect of a quickie (I mean a caffeine shot!) is a ritual in itself. But Sunday perhaps is my ode to laziness. Kind souls (friends or mostly mom) provide me with food and the self-collected huge stack of books and movies entertain my bed sojourn all through the day. That is the perfect 'sloth'ful Sunday for me.

Wrath or anger is infact my primogeniture. I got it as an inheritance from my male ancestors and I am now the master of my very own anger estate. I run, govern and monopolize it. Which basically means no outside factor can get me worked up unless I allow myself to let it. Quite unlike my Libran birth, when my otherwise calm demeanor is shaken, this woman's wrath knows no bound. Though thankfully, manic Monday (which is a bitch at work) is the only day I let the week get to me. By the end of the day, dear pals have drowned me in enough lush therapy to make the rest of the weekdays 'spirited'.

Tuesday is my full on Envy day. Simple enough reason. I come from an orthodox Jaini family and even though I have already broken my vows by eating beef and drinking like a fish... Grandma's bullying still turns me into a devout follower on this day. No onions, no meat, no liquor. No fun! I envy every single person who can live a normal life :(

Greed rears its ugly head by the time midweek Wednesday rolls along. Media night, ladies night, happy hours... Whatever, wherever. If it promises to get me cheap booze, then I am up for it. Since Wed' is also my busiest day at work, post-office, usually after-midnight hours are spent pub-hopping in the quest to satiate the greedy barfly in me.

By the time my hung over, half-dead self gets up on Thursday, Pride rules my mood. Vanity is as vanity does and the late office check-in equates to very, very useless but very, very selfish time spent indulging in pedicures and massages. Or spent on shopping sprees, usually meaning admiring ones image in giant size shopping mall mirrors. Tsh, tsh!

The most injurious of all my vices is Gluttony. For those of you who don't know, I am a food writer. In case that isn't clear enough, I basically critique food on a weekly basis. Yes this is part of my job and I get paid for it. So the onslaught of the weekend is heralded by an unmonitored, unstoppable consumption of every, and all type/sort/variety of food known to man. Sometimes all three of my meals are review assignments. And if you've ever had the (mis)fortune of being fed like a cow meant for slaughter... You might just understand the amount of food that an eager restaurateur/manager piles on my table. Don't get me wrong, I love it. And so do the lucky friend/colleague who accompanies me. But let's just say, it is quite the unhealthy proposition and is followed by furious attacks at the treadmill.

Last but by no means least. My fave sin aka the most fun... Lust. If any of you deny being a victim of this one, you do not deserve to be here. Now to put it simply, my recent residentship of Freedomville (revert to last post) has led to an increased surge of hormones. And by virtue of being the only day of the week that does not preceede a working day, Saturday is my carnal karma day. Ever since my active membership of the lust club, my heart and head are ruled by only this sin and I can give up everything in the world but this. Trust me, I have tried.

So there you have it, seven sins for seven days. Hey, that has a nice ring to it. And as the Keeper of Temptations to the Mistress of Vices would say... Better late than never!

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned and I love it!"