Skip to main content

A matter of feeling

My house in under some heavy renovation... the kind guaranteed to bring us, the residents (yes, we are actually still staying in the house) to an anatomical position similar to that of the Thinker. Fervent mutters of "it'll all be worth it, you'll see" do the rounds and maybe it will. But if anyone back in Birmingham says something about me enjoying my holidays, well... never mind.

In the midst of the dust and plaster chunks, I happen to look out the window. It frames grey skies, a gentle drizzle and that soul-enticing smell of moist earth. I pause, purposefully head out to the balcony with my chai and step out of everything for a while. The chai is hot. I stir slowly... the delicate tang of ginger & wisps of steam lazily intertwine with the heady bouquet outside, drifting away. I watch, smell, hear, see... feel, lost to everything else.

I have to run an errand, taking me out of the house. My Kinetic starts almost instantly and we are off, slipstreaming through the breeze. Not too many people are on the streets and that lets me ride a little fast... a little recklessly... catch the scent of unknown flowers from the rickshaw passing by... my city has gifted me a moment close to perfection.

There are things I need to think about, things I want to say, emotions I need to keep feeling but all of these have to be shelved for the time being. In 2 weeks, I must go back to the States and an ominous restlessness is already growing in the pit of my stomach. No reassurances from anyone will make a difference at the moment. They never have but we all knew that, no ?

Too many Whys...

A solitary When...

Song for the moment: Chup tum raho, chup hum rahein - Is Raat ki Subah Nahi

Comments

Anonymous said…
:)
bhumika said…
Finally we see a post! And i must say, definitely worth the wait.

Those few lines on sipping a hot cup of tea - loved them!

Popular posts from this blog

Let them talk

There is a school of thought that would quite likely be scandalised by the idea of intellectual discussions being held in a pub / bar. Impropriety and what have you. Folks like us (you know who you are) would counter with the notion that our intellectual pursuits occur only in pubs. That's when the cranial creases are watered... doused actually, & whatever is left of our neurons are firing on all cylinders, ablaze thanks to the tipple of choice. Mind you, I'm not advocating that this is the best way. It's just our way. Or my way, if any reader resents the liberty I've taken of assuming anything. Not to keep tottering around the proverbial mulberry bush (why mulberry, I ask), the latest discussion touched on the dichotomy(?) of loving your work. That is, working the week for the sake of the cheque & engaging in your passion during the weekend OR striving to make your passion, your talent or a synonym of your choice the porker from which your bacon is carved. Ri

Many the miles

Some time ago, I decided to cut down on the whining that seems to be a major theme on this blog. After having written a couple of short story posts and one interesting challenge, I found that more commentary on life, its machinations and assorted tomfoolery just did not interest me. For the moment, at least. That also thankfully means that I can't talk about the Indian cricket team's test saga. Anyway, in recent weeks, a new trend has taken root in that fragment of the 'gang' that lives in Pune. Instead of meeting up and hitting the tipple every now and then, we meet and they discuss trekking to various forts in and around Pune. Notice how I'm not in these councils-of-war. Although I've played sports in school and college, I've never been a fan of physical toil. All these talks conjure up are images of waking up at some ungodly hour before sunrise, scooting to some random hill / fort and huffing, puffing, slipping & scrabbling around in near darkness w

The baying of the hounds

Dear reader, The past few months have been punctuated by sound and fury on account of the renovations around the house. The incessant noise, rubble and dust have often led to frayed tempers and the standard indignant inquiries about the point of this whole exercise. But there's a long way to go, so we must persevere... with gritted teeth. Speaking of dust, the Lenovo laptop running Manjaro OS has been quietly gathering sackfuls of the stuff. Unfortunately (but understandably), my Macbook has become the default instrument of distraction, with the Lenovo coming into play whenever I miss USB ports. All sarcasm aside, the Mac is convenient to use and the apps 'just' work. I've praised the Linux ecosystem for years on this blog, so there's no question of indicting them now. But hear me out. I use a VPN service. In this gilded age of freedom and tolerance, I think everyone should opt for a reliable, paid service. It does not have to matter that the things you do on the in