Mellow Fruitfulness :)

It is a beautiful, beautiful day. The afternoon was pure poetry...and now, early evening, it is all I can do to prepare for a paper on Strategy tomorrow without running out for a walk on the Ridge. Just thinking about the Ridge in this weather makes me want to throw everything aside and take off. The sky is clear and blue; there's a very soothing, cool (yes, cool!) breeze blowing; the world is bathed in mellow golden light; everything is just...perfect. Almost too good to be true. Honestly, this weather begs a walk. Know what, I think I'll give Strategy a break.

:)

p.s. If this weather makes me want to borrow Keats' words, just how beautiful must the English autumn have been, to inspire them in the first place? Sigh.

Image courtesy Google Images

Delhi - 01 :)

One of the good things about summer training in Delhi is that I get to ride the Metro every day, half an hour each way. I get to visit central Delhi. I get to look at pigeons feeding by the score on Sansad Marg - the most perfect combination of grey and brick red there ever was. I get to plan my ever-pending trip to Jantar Mantar and Gurudwara Bangla Sahib. I get to think, determinedly, that I will wake up early enough one morning to be able to spend some time at the Metro Museum at Patel Chowk station, which is where I disembark every morning, bracing myself for the time and motion study-filled day ahead; also where I board the train back every evening from, looking forward, as I descend to the platform, to that fresh, crazy draft of air that is always rushing in from the far end of the tunnel, and which always hits me in the face, undoing in all of eight seconds the exhaustion of an eight-hour workday. It would be a real shame not to visit the Museum after having visited the station 70 times in all this summer.

I get to see fresh fruits piled four feet high at the juice vendor's, just outside Jeevan Vihar. The brightest yellow, orange, red and green I've ever seen. I get to breathe in the mild, musky fragrance of the little bud-like flowers that pepper the ground I walk on, flowers that fall with the early morning breeze from the branches overhead. I get to think the most random thoughts as I complete the last lap of the journey from Bungalow Road to Sansad Marg, skipping over the perpetual little puddle just outside the entrance to the Jeevan Vihar grounds. Nobody knows where that water comes from - the juice vendor says he sees that puddle practically every day of the year. It doesn't smell funny or look dangerous. It is just always there - that little puddle of water, one inch shallow, with petals and leaves and fallen flowers floating on the surface: Nature's very own Feng Shui bowl, meant to bring in good luck. Invariably, I find myself looking at my reflection swaying in and out of the puddle as I rush by. Invariably, I find myself smiling.

Summers in Delhi. Perfect.

Ellipsis

Sometimes, of an evening, I stand on the terrace and think random thoughts. For some reason, I love the sight of the sky over the rooftops of the city, birds flying in a perfect V, stars glittering a tad uncertainly in a blue-grey sky, almost as if asking, Is it time yet? There'll be a plane flying overhead, multiple lights ablaze. I think of everyone aboard the aircraft, wonder where they are going, wondering where I can go. It's reassuring to know that some element of the universe knows what it is doing, at least. The day knows it has to end, the blue in the sky has to recede over the rooftops, skirting TV antennae and the odd electric pole, clearing the way for the rather decided black-grey-blue that night brings.

I look up at the sky and wonder what it is like to be one vast, limitless expanse. I stop, check myself. I'm starting again. For some reason, I have always loved the abstract more than the physical. The elements, some beliefs, some institutions and ideals and dreams mean a lot more to me than any person or place ever can. The elements, especially. I smile inwardly, allowing myself, without quite knowing it or meaning to, to break into a chuckle, wondering if I am mad. The wondering gives way to a brief moment of defiance: I am, so what of it? before yielding to indifference, while my gaze wanders back to the sky.

The sky. It's the one thing that hasn't changed. The one constant, from my home in the east to all the places I wander to. Wherever I go, I know I will stand under the same sky. I don't know if it is this sameness that I love about it, or the fact that it is way too vast to be contained ever, in any manner, least of all geographically. I know that I don't care - either way, it is my sky.

March

March is a very special month. The month of new beginnings. For thirteen years, it was the month of final exams, followed by a short break (brown paper, labels, new books with that wonderful printing-ink smell), followed by the beginning of a new academic year (usually between the 15th and the 18th). Then, it became the month of the-last-few-classes, Dismissal Service, Grad-D and the beginning of prep leave. For a brief while, it was the beginning of a new fiscal. Now, it is the end of a semester and the beginning of prep leave again.

Always, of course, the end of winter, the beginning of spring, the start of a new cycle of seasons and so a new year.

Which is why this month is so special. To me, it will always, but always, be about a new beginning. I love every little bit about every little thing this month means. I love the flaming palash blossoms on trees, the vivid red and green leaves. I love the way the day begins with beautiful mellow sunshine which matures into fiery afternoon heat before gracefully giving way to breezy, picture-perfect evenings.

I love walking down the roads of North Campus, strewn with leaves, looking up occasionally into foliage that is at least seven different shades of green at a time. I love the sound of the birds hidden somewhere in that foliage. I love the hint of summer in the air. I love the slight prick of the heat on the nape of my neck, the relative emptiness of the streets in the afternoons, and the happy, buzzing energy in the evenings. I love how the world seems to be gearing up for the year ahead.

Something about this time of the year fills me with a strange sadness for all the things that have to be bid farewell. Then, there's a sudden burst of anticipation for all that is bound to come. Neither of these ever visits without the other. :)

Somewhere in the back of my mind, the thought of unfinished studying and pending assignments has permanent place. I suppose it's part of who I am now - I have associated the month with exams ever since I was five :) But the idea of having work to do at a time like this is exhilerating...who minds having to work if it's so glorious all over?? Something about March refuels me, fills me with energy I didn't even know I possessed.

Everything is fresh, vibrant and beautiful. If it wasn't all that great so far, well, it will be now. And if it has been good all along, it will get even better!

Walks become a religion about this time. I end up believing, wanting to believe...there's no way anyone can be otherwise when the world's so full of sunshine!

It's also the time of introspection, retrospection. Somehow, these are easier things to do when Nature's so kind...even when you're kicking yourself hard for mistakes, you realise you don't mind being kinder with your not-so-great side for having made them. March makes you feel so glad to be alive!