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

What I'll Miss About Delhi - Part I

How's this for absolute randomness: In spite of wanting to do some writing, I just didn't feel inspired enough to come and post a proper entry here in days. Now, out of the blue (quite literally!), just as I made a conscious decision to return to my hermit crab ways for a bit, there's a volley of posts and I'm seized with an overwhelming urgency to write about all that I'm thinking of. Life, I tell you. :)

Anyway, it rained today - almost. Actually, it did...but it didn't last long enough for anything - not to offer any respite from the heat, not to permit at least one rain dance, not even for the earth to get thoroughly soaked and quenched. Instead, it has left everything in a limbo of sorts. The leaves are undecidedly wet and dewy; the sun is drying itself off before it returns to work; the air is still choosing between dragon breaths and minty freshness, droplets and vapour almost visibly suspended in the atmosphere. Somwhere, I'm sure, a paper-boat is lying half-folded, and a family of sparrows debating the wisdom of venturing out once again today.

But it was good, even if it lasted only ten minutes. The world does look freshly-laundered. :)

Walking back from the department this evening, I couldn't take my eyes off the riot of colours that the trees always become at this time of year. Every conceivable shade of every imaginable colour. It was with a pang that I realised that I don't quite know when I'll set eyes on all this beauty again, after a few weeks. Yes, I'm glad I'm leaving Delhi, and hopeful that it will be a year or two, at least, before I return. But the fact is, I've spent six formative, very eventful, memorable years in this city...and I love it (which is why I'm looking forward to going away for a bit...but haven't I written enough about that already? :)...

...and now, in no particular order, here are the things I will miss about Delhi, and the University in particular. I know I'll never manage an exhaustive list on this one...but here's an attempt:

1. The greenery. There's no two ways about it...there could be trees and vegetation galore in other cities, but it won't be the same. It's lush, soothing...and very, very beautiful.

2. The history. The city breathes it. It's grand and old and hoary and proud...and in many ways, it deserves to be. And this isn't just about the Jama Masjid or the Red Fort...it's also about all the little alleys and broad avenues, old localities and older names.

3. The freedom. It's the Capital. There are all kinds of people here, from every place imaginable. And they're all welcome to stay, explore the place, study, make a living...just be, because no one owns the place, really. Delhi will embrace you, no questions asked. And that is its biggest beauty.

4. Haanji. The all-purpose magic word.

5. The food! While I will have to admit that my experiences here are solely responsible for what now seems to be a lifetime's worth of aversion to rajma and dal makhani, I will miss all the other food. Period. Delhi loves its food, both the street and the exotic variety...and there's "planty of it, ji". :)

6. The bookstores - and Daryaganj. The bibliophiles' paradise. Enough said.

7. The Delhi Metro. I was thrilled when it began running from Vishwa Vidyalaya to Kashmere Gate (yes, I was here that long ago :), have consistently counted it amongst my biggest blessings in this city, and appreciated it even more fell even more thoroughly in love with it after a two-week brush with the Calcutta Metro. The crowds may have seen an exponential increase, and the legendary precision of timing may have taken a small beating...but my gratefulness and affection will remain an incontrovertible truth.

8. Summers and winters. Six of each, and I know I'll handle any kind of weather, anywhere. But I doubt I'll find as feisty and authentic a summer, and as poetic and picture-perfect a winter in another part of the world.

9. This strange mix of laid-back luxury and total chaos that this city is capable of. It's a living, breathing mass of contradictions, in this way, and in many others. I'll probably go into that later.

There's more to come. This list is incomplete. It feels incomplete to me. Next, the University.

About Them

I'm a child of the seasons. The elements are my best friends.

The rain, and the rain alone, knows all my secrets. It gathers in my palm and slips out of my fingers, tinkling like a musical note. It runs playfully down my nose and bounces off my cheeks. It tickles the soles of my feet as I stomp recklessly, deliberately into puddles. It comes when it wants to, never mind the calendar - an unpredictability that I adore. It laughs and whispers and cleanses, keeps time as I dance in uncompromised freedom. It leaves me whole and alive.

The wind shares my wanderlust. It unravels memories and makes promises. It throws windows open and shut. It blows away the dust and brings stray petals and blades of grass in. The wind is chatty and communicative. It reads my mind and cackles in delight at foolish ideas, reprimands me when I'm stupid, sighs meditatively at profundity, and has made a ritual out of its goodbye hugs.

The sky is my canvas, my very own book, my own silver screen. It indulges my fancies and whims, allowing me to trace faces, trees and giant koalas among its clouds, to wink back cheekily at the stars that peer out every night. On stormy days, when enormous blue-grey and black clouds billow by, it hurries them along sometimes, so that the moon is visible to me. And it remains there, faithful to its promise as only a best buddy can be, blue and endless and full of love.

The sun knows its way around my moods. It gets ever so slightly warmer when I'm shivering; just a teeny bit milder when I am hot and bothered. It plays tricks on me and gets away with all of them, because it knows it is one of my weaknesses. Trust a best pal to be so affectionately annoying. I don't remember ever having wished for anything that the sun didn't grant. I don't know of anyone else who blends so much power with such gentleness.

And the earth...the earth grounds me, allows me to spread my roots even as it encourages me to explore. It is warm and loving and stable. It squishes between my toes when the rain comes visiting...the rain lingers on in that invigorating smell long after it has gone. It blows playfully into my hair when the breeze drops in. It takes inordinate delight in baking under the sun and making it impossible for me to move barefoot in my own garden. It allows me to nestle, to roam free.

And that is why this time of the year, when my best friends congregate as one season gives way to another, owns me completely. I belong to it, no questions asked. I belong to the musky mornings, the golden afternoons and the coffee-and-cinnamon-flavoured evenings. To the fresh green leaves making a tentative appearance on every branch, and as much to the golden-brown ones underfoot. To the sky, still choosing between baby-blue and slate. To spring, poking its head around the door, almost as if to ask, Is it time yet? And to winter, packing up after an especially fierce visit. To the summer that has probably begun to stir, the monsoon that isn't due for another four months, and the autumn that knows it can afford to rest the easiest.

If it were physically possible, I would give them all a gigantic bear hug.