There's a nip - more than a nip, actually - in the air. The sort that skims lightly over bare arms and raises goosebumps. The cold is just new enough to be pleasant, and just sudden enough to take you unawares. And when you hug yourself, trying to huddle up against it, you feel warm and cosy and snug, and break, instinctively, into a smile...Old Man Winter remembers us, after all!
Just as you remember him. Just as you remember the shaft of sunlight that stole into your room every winter morning with delicious warmth. Just as you remember the thrill of being allowed to sleep till seven because school began at nine in the winter session. Just as you remember drawing trees and smiley faces - and graduating to signing your name - on the bathroom mirror when hot water baths steamed it up. Just as you remember New Year's Eves at home, when the warmth from sweaters and shawls paled before that of togetherness. Just as you remember scooting across your room barefoot to get the slippers you forgot somewhere else in your house, giggling as the cold floor bit the soles of your feet. Just as you remember marvelling at the first rosebud of the season, so tender and timid and beautiful and brave. Just as you remember wondering, from November to February, how you could ever have needed electric fans and refrigerators (and, for the rest of the year, how you could have done without them). Just as you remember cuddling up to an indulgent parent or sibling, enjoying the blessed warmth that relationships bring.
Just as you remember consistently missing 8.40s all through third term, the firmest determination notwithstanding. Just as you remember the sense of achievement that came from lugging a bucket of hot water all the way from the boiler to the first floor with minimal splashing. Just as you remember becoming a permanent fixture - with or without your books - on the College lawns every afternoon every day of the week, and all of Sunday. Just as you remember the fragrance of orange peel on your fingers every lunch break. Just as you remember the walks to Nirula's and the moongfali-wallah's after dinner every evening, recognising friends in hooded and sweatshirted figures passing by, and greeting them with a smile and a "Hi" that was invariably accompanied by a spiral of smoky winter breath. Just as you remember huddling with three other friends under a blanket meant for one, watching Pretty Woman for the fourth time and swapping notes on Mr. Right, then burrowing in with books and notes, shameless guilt for unprepared-for tests written large on every face. Just as you remember how completely you fell in love with the city no matter where you saw it - Daryaganj, the Red Fort, the University, CP, South Ex...Delhi's soul is never as beautifully consummate as it is in winter.
Just as you remember walking with friends to the nearest dhaba for hot, butter-soaked parathas and milky tea. Just as you remember lazing in the living room, spending whole Sundays doing precisely nothing. Just as you remember laughing as you tried, unsuccessfully, to block a chink in the window pane with newspaper. Just as you remember being, just being, with people you may or may not have been the closest pals with, but who were an undeniably integral part of your life. Just as you remember staring at the moon through the December fog, startled out of inevitable trances by a flock of white birds flying across it in perfect V-formation.
All part of one life, even if it does seem to belong to a distant other that seems too fragile, too perfect, to be true. All part of a life that promises as much as it has brought.
My sweatshirts smell of mothballs and memories.
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Before I sign off, there's something else I have to write about. A very simple gesture that made my day and lifted me, single-handedly, out of the blues.
The last few days have been difficult. I didn't sleep very well last night, and found myself beginning today running late. So I skipped breakfast and rushed to the department. Class was demanding - MIS is always demanding of concentration and patience - and there was a meeting right after the last one, which meant forgoing lunch. The meeting left me irritable and - I hate to admit this - angry. All of which means that by the time I got back to my room, I was tired, hungry, mad, blue and in the throes of a bad headache, which did nothing to improve my mood. I decided to give the cold hostel lunch a miss and headed out without quite knowing where. My feet took me to McDonald's pretty much on their own, so in I went, thinking some iced tea, a McVeggie, and a glance at the day's papers would do me good.
I left the counter with my tray - with my burger and iced tea on it - balanced on my right fist (yes, a loaded tray on my fist), in which I clutched my wallet, phone and keys. Standing near the ledge which held the drinking straw dispensers, I tried pressing the lever with my left hand. Now, I knew this was abad foolish idea, I knew I should probably set my tray down before I got myself a straw, but I was already put off by other things...so I didn't bother with what was, technically, the right thing to do. Not even when the glass of iced tea skidded to the edge of the tray. I simply focused - in my scattered way - on the dispenser.
The glass toppled and iced tea spilled all over the floor.
Chagrined and wanting to kick myself, I went apologetically to the counter and requested that the spill be mopped up. They handed me another glass - I wasn't expecting one and I wasn't about to ask, after how stupid I had been - and the floor was mopped promptly. Tray balanced exactly as earlier - I think I thought I'd be more careful this time so the need to carry it more sensibly didn't occur to me - I tried reaching on tiptoe to the newspaper on the rack a foot above my head. Again, the right thing to have done would have been to set the tray down, pick the paper up, retrieve my tray, and head to my seat. But no. I stood there, glass and burger halfway to tilting over, trying to reach the rack. Uncharacteristically impractical. Says a lot about how blue I was...when, out of nowhere, a hand over my head lifted the paper from the rack and held it out to me.
Looking up, I saw one of the security guards from outside the restaurant standing on the lowest of the steps to the counters, smiling politely and waiting for me to take the paper from him.
I broke into my first spontaneous smile in three days.
I thanked him warmly, feeling very, very, very grateful for that simple gesture. He didn't have to do it...but he did. And he didn't expect profound gratitude for it, but I was profoundly grateful. Not just because he saved me and the food from another disaster, but because - and I still can't find the words to explain how or why - he suddenly made me feel a lot better. Lighter and happier and better.
To people like that gentleman at McDonald's...for simple thoughtfulness that can lift whole clouds and make so much difference...thank you :)
I expect I'll be a regular here in the next few weeks (at least till last-minute panic for sem-end exams sets in...and I'll probably end up blogging about that too :). This weather tends to do that to me! So long.
Just as you remember him. Just as you remember the shaft of sunlight that stole into your room every winter morning with delicious warmth. Just as you remember the thrill of being allowed to sleep till seven because school began at nine in the winter session. Just as you remember drawing trees and smiley faces - and graduating to signing your name - on the bathroom mirror when hot water baths steamed it up. Just as you remember New Year's Eves at home, when the warmth from sweaters and shawls paled before that of togetherness. Just as you remember scooting across your room barefoot to get the slippers you forgot somewhere else in your house, giggling as the cold floor bit the soles of your feet. Just as you remember marvelling at the first rosebud of the season, so tender and timid and beautiful and brave. Just as you remember wondering, from November to February, how you could ever have needed electric fans and refrigerators (and, for the rest of the year, how you could have done without them). Just as you remember cuddling up to an indulgent parent or sibling, enjoying the blessed warmth that relationships bring.
Just as you remember consistently missing 8.40s all through third term, the firmest determination notwithstanding. Just as you remember the sense of achievement that came from lugging a bucket of hot water all the way from the boiler to the first floor with minimal splashing. Just as you remember becoming a permanent fixture - with or without your books - on the College lawns every afternoon every day of the week, and all of Sunday. Just as you remember the fragrance of orange peel on your fingers every lunch break. Just as you remember the walks to Nirula's and the moongfali-wallah's after dinner every evening, recognising friends in hooded and sweatshirted figures passing by, and greeting them with a smile and a "Hi" that was invariably accompanied by a spiral of smoky winter breath. Just as you remember huddling with three other friends under a blanket meant for one, watching Pretty Woman for the fourth time and swapping notes on Mr. Right, then burrowing in with books and notes, shameless guilt for unprepared-for tests written large on every face. Just as you remember how completely you fell in love with the city no matter where you saw it - Daryaganj, the Red Fort, the University, CP, South Ex...Delhi's soul is never as beautifully consummate as it is in winter.
Just as you remember walking with friends to the nearest dhaba for hot, butter-soaked parathas and milky tea. Just as you remember lazing in the living room, spending whole Sundays doing precisely nothing. Just as you remember laughing as you tried, unsuccessfully, to block a chink in the window pane with newspaper. Just as you remember being, just being, with people you may or may not have been the closest pals with, but who were an undeniably integral part of your life. Just as you remember staring at the moon through the December fog, startled out of inevitable trances by a flock of white birds flying across it in perfect V-formation.
All part of one life, even if it does seem to belong to a distant other that seems too fragile, too perfect, to be true. All part of a life that promises as much as it has brought.
My sweatshirts smell of mothballs and memories.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Before I sign off, there's something else I have to write about. A very simple gesture that made my day and lifted me, single-handedly, out of the blues.
The last few days have been difficult. I didn't sleep very well last night, and found myself beginning today running late. So I skipped breakfast and rushed to the department. Class was demanding - MIS is always demanding of concentration and patience - and there was a meeting right after the last one, which meant forgoing lunch. The meeting left me irritable and - I hate to admit this - angry. All of which means that by the time I got back to my room, I was tired, hungry, mad, blue and in the throes of a bad headache, which did nothing to improve my mood. I decided to give the cold hostel lunch a miss and headed out without quite knowing where. My feet took me to McDonald's pretty much on their own, so in I went, thinking some iced tea, a McVeggie, and a glance at the day's papers would do me good.
I left the counter with my tray - with my burger and iced tea on it - balanced on my right fist (yes, a loaded tray on my fist), in which I clutched my wallet, phone and keys. Standing near the ledge which held the drinking straw dispensers, I tried pressing the lever with my left hand. Now, I knew this was a
The glass toppled and iced tea spilled all over the floor.
Chagrined and wanting to kick myself, I went apologetically to the counter and requested that the spill be mopped up. They handed me another glass - I wasn't expecting one and I wasn't about to ask, after how stupid I had been - and the floor was mopped promptly. Tray balanced exactly as earlier - I think I thought I'd be more careful this time so the need to carry it more sensibly didn't occur to me - I tried reaching on tiptoe to the newspaper on the rack a foot above my head. Again, the right thing to have done would have been to set the tray down, pick the paper up, retrieve my tray, and head to my seat. But no. I stood there, glass and burger halfway to tilting over, trying to reach the rack. Uncharacteristically impractical. Says a lot about how blue I was...when, out of nowhere, a hand over my head lifted the paper from the rack and held it out to me.
Looking up, I saw one of the security guards from outside the restaurant standing on the lowest of the steps to the counters, smiling politely and waiting for me to take the paper from him.
I broke into my first spontaneous smile in three days.
I thanked him warmly, feeling very, very, very grateful for that simple gesture. He didn't have to do it...but he did. And he didn't expect profound gratitude for it, but I was profoundly grateful. Not just because he saved me and the food from another disaster, but because - and I still can't find the words to explain how or why - he suddenly made me feel a lot better. Lighter and happier and better.
To people like that gentleman at McDonald's...for simple thoughtfulness that can lift whole clouds and make so much difference...thank you :)
I expect I'll be a regular here in the next few weeks (at least till last-minute panic for sem-end exams sets in...and I'll probably end up blogging about that too :). This weather tends to do that to me! So long.
2 comments:
it amazes me how you are so in love with delhi, or your memories of good times in delhi, i think its more of the latter. my better half would be so happy to read this post, hes from delhi as well and absolutely loves the city. i have been there when I was really young, so for all practical purposes, i havent visited the city.
I think I was brought up in a very nomadic way. My parents kept shifting base, so i got to see a lot of cities/countries, albeit the stay was too short for the city to adopt me or vice versa. So I do envy you :) But is it really just the city ? or the memories? what if it had been a different place, a different time, but the same memories ?
I've often wondered about that myself. I think it has to do with the memories, primarily. That said, Delhi has a character of its own, so it's actually almost like another living, breathing person in my recollections...with a role to play and idiosyncrasies of its own. So it's difficult to separate the setting from the happenings :) But there's also the fact that I end up having relationships with cities, localities and even buildings where I spend a lot of time...so I guess it would have largely been the same if I had the same memories in another time and place. Growing up in so many places must have been fun. At some point in my life, I'd like to look back and see a geographically diverse personal history, too :)
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