The heart wants what the heart doesn't want.

I promised to buy a Mercedes SLK Brabus, a Dodge Viper or an Alfa Romeo for someone. Someone special. Three years into my working life, and I still can't afford the rubber on the tyres of any of these vehicles.

Why is it so difficult to save? Why is it that as money increases, our needs do too? My initial days were spent travelling by bus. Now, even if one stops right in front of me, I ignore the conductor's screams and wave at an auto behind it to take me to my destination.

Maybe I'm too used to the good life. Maybe I'm just plain lazy. Maybe it's both.

Truth be told, I don't value money any more. And I'm ashamed to say it. I'm greedy for more, simply because I can't seem to have enough to do all I want. And what does that mean? I want to eat good food - it's my weakness, one that was kept in check while I was in college because money was limited. I want to indulge in retail therapy everytime I'm pissed with work or life - which is almost every day - not realising that my cupboard is overflowing with tops, pants, linen wear, salwar kameezes, even saris.

I want everything I see, simply because I can afford to buy it. Once in a while, though, that little thing usually asleep inside me - some call it good sense - stops me from spending needlessly. "Hey! I love that top, I think I'll look good in it. It's quite expensive though... But it's worth a buy, designer stuff..."

"Hold on to your horses honey!", says good sense, "Do you even need it in the first place? Can't you get something like it stitched with that cotton bit at home for a lot cheaper?" Ah. What would I do without dear ol' her?

Then there are the times when I'm broke. Oh, the temptation to indulge then!! To draw a bad analogy, it's like a bitch in heat - she wants to 'do it' real bad when she's least unable to do it. It happened to me just yesterday - not the heat part, but the temptation to indulge. When I went for dinner to 100 Ft. The place is charming. What takes the cake, though, is all the stuff spread out all over the place - clothes (sigh), footwear (siiiiiigh) and other lifestyle products. I must have left quite a few traces of drool behind. I wanted to pick up everything in sight (especially the bed and a pair of slip-ons - I kept gravitating towards them). I just didn't have the money for it.

Then there was the Anokhi store I went to in Mumbai. On display was the most gorgeous sari I have seen in my entire life. A mix of turmeric and mustard yellow, with gold checks woven in. A sight for sore eyes, I have thus far been unable to get over the trauma of not picking it up - it cost a mere six thousand bucks, almost half of my monthly income. I would have picked it up even, had not the prospect of not being left with money for the rest of my vacation scared me. And the fact that it would fall prey to my mother's constantly-on-the-lookout-for-something-gorgeous eyes.

These days I'm into comfort buying - I go book shopping when I'm down. It's a much cheaper habit, and one I don't regret in the least. So far, I've managed to amass a fairly good collection of books that includes Roald Dahls, Asterixes, other illustrated comics and miscellaneous authors.

Of course, I still crib about having plenty of responsibilities and not enough money to fulfill them. And I don't think it's going to change. Not even if my money keeps growing. Because, like I said, my needs will grow with it.