Finally succumbed to the worldwide cult and bought my very first set of Moleskine journals. Overpriced, of course. But still...they are Moleskines.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
I usually hate being alone on festivals. Not that I am the religious sorts, but I do believe in tradition and in the tradition of great feasting! This year, Ganesha Chathurthi, one of our biggest festivals fell on Wednesday, a holiday neither this side of the weekend nor on that side. None of the usual suspects were around to come by for lunch either. Just for the heck of it, I rustled up something, bought some stuff and lunched over some TV.
Photographed it promptly too on my lovely little phone.
The previous evening though, on my way from work, I took a hurried walk through Malleswaram, hurried because the mill of people were jostling me forward. I couldn't linger and attempt any composed pictures. I didn't want to either. There is only so much I can take of crowds.
There were fresh vegetables direct from the farms.
And colourful hair accessories.
And flowers in many shapes and hues.
And inexpensive clothes.
And more gorgeous flowers.
And party lights spilling on to the pavement.
And coconuts from the countryside (not as good as the coastal ones).
And the lovely smells and vibrancy and contagious energy that I couldn't take a picture of.
Give me a phone that does not catch any mobile network between 9 am and 11 pm. Give me a laptop from which I cannot access the internet. Give me also a mud thatched hut in the middle of a forest. And I will write my stories!
Monday, September 17, 2012
Saturday, September 08, 2012
Just the other day, I met an old friend, G. Old for me is six years, that's when I moved to this city and began my first friendships. G was a sort of colleague and almost neighbour; on a couple of occasions, he had dropped me home. Like in another similar happy case, we instantly connected and from well known acquaintances, we turned friends. And I thought I had to observe this thank goodness for friends post.
Talking to the mad friend Liz the other day, about life and relationships and other friends and their lives, I told her how I often felt like we were living the
Hollywood movies we were watching. She promptly tweeted it! Incidents of the following few days gave credence to my sweeping statement, evenings where I met different friends and exchanged stories. Relationships; now that's a funny enough word, isn't it? That thing which brings everyone the most grief.
I have been mentally thanking half a dozen of my friends, all of whom have been sounding more mature than I was used to from them, this last few weeks. Thanking them for their words, for their non-judgmental acceptance, for this 'adult-ness'. The more life transpires, the more I realize maturity has nothing to do with what age you say or think you are.
I don't really know what I want to write here without having to go into specifics. It is just that life and friendships have made me examine how much of adults we have all turned into. When you are with people you have shared histories with, somehow age seems to stand still. While you celebrate each other's birthdays, the progression of years somehow goes unnoticed. There is little to give you a perspective of how you have grown over the years.
And then one day, you have a conversation, a drink and then it hits you quietly. That you are this adult. That you are making choices and living a life. That often, life isn't too different from the movies. That at other times, things are very different from how you imagined they would be. It strikes you, not too politely at that, that you made some stupid choices too, so stupid that you want to face to meet palm, wondering just what you were thinking. Then there were wise choices, those that offer some consolation to the face-palm moments. But everything was a good story, you tell yourself. That makes you feel a little less stupid.
Through these discoveries and ideas and identities and transitions, you also notice that on the sidelines, there are these wonderful people who are looking at you, some cheering, some exasperated, some with that annoying I-told-you-so look. But you know that they all love you and while they might think you are a bit of a mad maverick, they will always stand by you. I rarely let people be my 2AM friends. One day, a little while ago, I decided to let the old guard go. And I discovered these lovely people had always been on the sidelines. It was I who hadn't noticed.
Tempted though I am, their initials in this very public thank you note won't go here, for reasons which will also not go here. Well, gushing and a slightly all over the place post later, all I can say is, thank you all. For signing up willingly. For agreeing to always take my call. For being my charmed circle.
Uff, full love happened here!! :)
Monday, September 03, 2012
Toska (n): Russian
No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.
Nodding my head vigorously.
Saturday, September 01, 2012
One evening this past week, a print of this super cool Shiva like my favourite mental image of him was what I got presented with. For this, for some of the most sensible pieces of advice I have ever been given, for the acceptance and the understanding, for the laughter, for the honesty, my dear A, thank you so, so very much.