The Unforgettables - I

1. Rain in College
2. Walks to Gwyer Hall in winter, breath forming smoky wreaths
3. Casa 7, Gurgaon
4. May 7 - 13, 2008, Mumbai & Goa
5. Breezy evenings at L-7/3
6. Power cuts at K-14/20
7. Early morning rides to work - the road empty, glistening and beautiful
8. Sunday lunches from August 2007 - June 2008
9. Walks on the terrace of 32 U.B.
10. June 20, 2007
11. December 9, 2007
12. Kandisa at 2 a.m. in an empty Allnutt South
13. That feeling of triumph at having finished packing at the end of first and second year. The struggle to get the trunk downstairs. The attempts at tricking the Office into believing there were only 3 articles of luggage in the LCR.
14. The breathless dash to Allnutt South at 9.58 p.m.
15. The stars from Andrews Court
16. The shades of green in DLF 2
17. Impromptu lessons in Marketing at MGF Metropolitan
18. 10.30 p.m. phone conversations - the ones that have become a habit
19. The French window in the five-seater
20. Holi 2008
21. Univs 2006



To be continued.

At breakfast today, someone switched on the TV in the common room. The screen flickered on to reveal VH1...just as the video of Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams began. That song brings so many memories back.

Can you believe that I actually walked out of a class still in progress? I did, just now. I can't believe I did that - walk out of Organisational Psychology class, for heaven's sake! I live for the behavioural aspect of this discipline that I have chosen to study. But then, all this only goes to show how badly I needed to leave. I couldn't take another minute in there.

All this is not usually like me. In another way, though, it is typically me. I guess I should just take the rest of the day off and go for a walk on the Ridge.

A Love Note - and a Confession

Hi,

So I guess it's time I came clean. I thought this last year and a half had put enough distance between us for me to be able to look at you objectively, for what you are, and smile formally and walk past you. I couldn't do it. One look at you and I knew I was a goner - like I'd always been with you. You'd known all along - right from that moment we'd parted...right from the moment, in fact, that we first met. I'd been the one pretending it was all over. Oh, who was I trying to fool anyway? You know, now, that you're my weakness, so I might as well tell you the truth.

Do you remember how it all began? I do, like it was yesterday. It was something new, just like my new job and new flat. Everything began together. I still remember walking into Barista on my third day at work, just before I left for home. That's when I first saw you. I remember hesitating before I walked up to you...

All I remember after that is how I sought you out whenever I could. On a good day when I felt sunny, on Mondays when the thought of the week stretching ahead left me blue, when I was confirmed after probation, every time I was low or exhausted or simply irritated with a boss who could do little else but find fault, you were the one I sought out. I'd come running into the coffeeshop and find you there, waiting. And I would smile. In you, I found something to smile for, something to cherish and dream about most of my waking hours. I found myself losing myself in your nature - such a beautiful blend of opposites. Crusty and business-like on the outside, you sometimes had me fooled even when I thought I'd got to know you reasonably well...but all doubts vanished when we sat under the stars and whiled away time before I had to go home. That was when I was reassured by how sweet and soft you have always been inside. You've always been nutty - but then it's who you are, and I wouldn't change anything about you for the world.

Which is why it was so difficult to say goodbye when I resigned after I was accepted into this school. I remember my eyes misting over as I beheld you one last time, allowed myself those last few minutes of happiness, that last delighted smile. We could meet again if I chose to...but I chose to end it there. The Barista outside the office was where it all began, and that was where it would all end. It made sense, I thought. It had been going on far too long. You had become an addiction...and you know how my defences are about addictions.

So I don't know why I stepped into the Barista on Bungalow Road this evening on a whim. It's been a year and a half, like I said, and I thought I'd gotten over you. I wasn't even expecting you there (although, on second thoughts, why shouldn't you be?). But there you were, sweet and warm and waiting, like always. That was it - there was no turning back. I stood at the door, transfixed, and I knew in a moment of epiphany that I had only been harbouring needless illusions all this time. I never really got over you. I don't think I can. So I walked up to where you were, and my eyes must have given me away, because the man behind the counter smiled politely and said, "Good evening, Ma'am. Would you like a brownie?"

Mr. Fudgee the Brownie, I love you. I always will.

Yours, always,

Crossworder

P.S.: I wish Barista had named you something else, though.

Leaps of Faith

There was this focussed, decided, determined, frizzy-haired girl who drank the occasional cup of coffee and got all her curls chopped off every ten weeks. Then there was a lost, bewildered child-woman, who would do anything that gave her some definition and identity for the confetti that had spilled out of her happy jar. Occasionally, as she gathered the confetti into damp fistfuls, she'd look up determinedly, muttering fierce promises to herself.

The next thing she knew, she was several years into adulthood, focussed in a lost sort of way, sure of only a few things - but very, very sure - and had discovered a new philosophy she liked to claim as her own. From twelve cups of coffee a day, she went to the other extreme and decided she'd never depend on a cup of anything to perk her up or keep her awake. She is still clueless about what to do with her curls, but they have a mind of their own now. And she likes to walk around with a tub of Play-doh, the book she's currently reading, and a small notepad and her crayons in her bag, for when time takes her unawares. Over several years, she suddenly found her best friend (they have the ugliest fights, but then both agree each was the best thing to happen to the other). They were neighbours and were hardly acquainted before this. Beat that!

I don't know how many of you remember this Lakme ad from some 18 years ago. It had a series of shots of Aishwarya Rai as (what was then) the perfect picture of urban chic, and (what still is and will always be) the ultimate essence of spunky, happy, vivacious girlhood. They had the refrain from She's Got the Look from Roxette's Look Sharp! in the background. I remembered the music - and I discovered the song recently. I don't know why, but I love the number. I could dance down the street to that one!

Has anyone out there ever done this - decided against doing something, ever again...and gone and done it on an impulse? I do it more frequently than I care to count - or than is good for my morale. And then, I stay mad at myself for quite some time...till I start getting mad at myself for being mad and wasting time and energy and not doing something more productive. That's how it goes...and then (no, don't say anything yet, I know a lot of us do this...what I'm asking you about is going to follow) I do something equally stupid...stupider, if possible, so that I can get mad at myself at that. That distracts me from the first bit of lunacy. Then I just get fed up of being mad and go find something productive to do.

The other day, someone said, you know, you ought to befriend and keep in touch with people you can ask for help later. I thought that wasn't only selfish and pig-headed, but also really sad. What, all your friends are people you may or may not like or have something in common with, but who can do things for you? Eh, I'd like to think I'm more self-sufficient than that. Not a saint, just self-sufficient and perpetually short on patience.

And so I wander down life's lanes, going wherever, doing whatever. And when I am - often, deliberately - clueless, I sit and write a post about this, that and the other.

Checking In

I haven't been around for a while...though, would you believe it, I've written some five posts in my head in the last month or so. They just never materialised into anything here. But, this afternoon, I want to write. The last ten days have been a change from the routine - even if so in superficial ways. The Saturday before the last was exciting - one of the three occasions a year that I dress up in a saree for. The saree is my favourite garment...but I wish I had enough grace for it. Trying, trying :) :)

This weekend was interesting too - the annual convention, a two day long affair. Blasphemous though I may sound, I enjoyed the International Business chapter better than the Human Resources part. Trussed up in a black business suit for the better part of two days (and feeling like a penguin, if I may add), I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the discussions on red and blue ocean strategies and financial engineering...AND the 20-cover lunch. ;)

What else...I'm happy because I was finally able to give someone a piece of my mind (I sometimes have very misplaced notions of niceness). I'm glad that a long-term project is beginning to yield results. I'm astounded at the number of people falling in and out of love around me, and thankful that I've managed to retain my sanity so far :)

The Pujas are here. Today is the third day, and I'm homesick like I always am at this time of the year. I miss the smell of dhoop and fresh flowers and bhog, and the sounds of the dhaak and cymbals and the conch and chants. I miss the colours of autumn and the vibrant hues that the Goddess comes decked in. I miss the camaraderie and the anticipation surrounding the festivities, both those that are happening and those that are on their way. I miss the peacefulness of the mornings, the golden afternoon light and the pulsating energy of the evenings. I miss the feeling of crisp new fabric against the skin. I miss the smell of camphor.

There's so much that I want to write about. I'm just grappling with a writer's block of sorts. I'll be back soon :) Till then, have a great autumn! :) :)