Today is one of those days when the greys in the sky are depressing. The monsoon is here, new life is beginning. I love the rains. Yet, today is not one of those days. It is one of those days when you want to wear red socks and sit on the bed with a blanket across your knee. It is one of those days when you want to sleep off the hours until it is bedtime. It is one of those days when you want someone to make you drink hot milk with chocolate in it, or just hot milk because you don’t like chocolate very much. It is one of those days when you want to write, not put up work-related stuff, but write for yourself, like old times. It is one of those days when you don’t write because you are scared of what lines might bleed out of the keyboard from your head’s unspoken pages. It is one of those days when you want to stubbornly watch time waste by.
It is also one of those days when you know that it will be raining tomorrow, that new life will be beginning. It is also one of those days when you note the eight years that this blog has been alive. As it enters the ninth and I a new decade, soon, I want to celebrate the discovery of a new happy place. I resist writing about it here, one, for selfish reasons – I want it to remain lesser known for as long as possible and two, superstition looms above like the dark grey clouds – I don’t want any envying, ill-bearing evil eye on me just yet, silly as that sounds. Silly as that sounds, I wouldn’t want to tempt the volatile lady of luck anymore by writing about it. I have an old fashioned journal for that again, old style, old charms.
This is my happy place. I am in a happy place.