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154: Snapshots So Far

3 Jun

Some experiences are best described without words. 

Here are some of mine so far, and I’m letting these pictures do all the talking. 

Banana chips and post-dinner conversations


Saris, dosas, window shopping in Commercial Street.

Friday afternoons with family and these eyes

Impromptu visits, conversations, and homemade fish fry and prawn curry meals

Sunny, windy, shade-laden walks under these gentle giants

Andhra meals, laughter, and bubbly fresh lime sodas

Relaxing with baking

118: Family Fridays

28 Apr

If there’s anything more special than family time, do let me know because most of me cannot see beyond family and spending time with them. Mine was spent sprawled on the floor carpet with my youngest sister, twirling our hair in the fan’s breeze while listening to stories interspersed with random acts of social media stalking. It was followed by giggles, tea which we ordered from outside and savoured with bun bhujia, and just being lazy. Perfect summer afternoons, if you ask me.

I wouldn’t ask for more. Not one thing more, not one thing less. :)

117: Short Notes

27 Apr

In continuation of yesterday’s post and sick tease, we woke up to some serious stormy conditions – no visible sunrise on time, no colour-changing sky, deep black pregnant clouds, no flirty breeze, no dust storm and no wind storm. It was dark when I woke up, which was both comforting and weird (530am feels like 7am these days). We opened our balcony doors to the fantastic outdoors while sipping our respective cuppas. I didn’t soak clothes to be washed later – typical Bangalore mentality, especially when you wake up to conditions like I did today. An umbrella found its place in my rucksack, and off we dispersed to our offices. All of us – kids (big and small), teachers, guards – looked at the sky as we crossed our sports field en-route the main building. Kids exclaimed in glee dekho aaj to sky bhi nahin dikha, bas badal hi badal (look! we didn’t get to see the sky today, just clouds and more clouds). And then when I checked the quadrangle an hour later, the sky was right there in its blueness with all those promising clouds GONE.

If you haven’t gathered so far, I can’t handle this tease. It’s a cruel joke to play. :(

****

I’m beginning to get attached to my students, both seniors and juniors. I am a loyal and possessive person by default, so it goes without saying that this was bound to happen. A delusional me never imagined connecting or even getting attached to students here. We’re now clear why I called myself delusional here. I’ve picked my favourites – and most of them are the naughty kinds. The teacher in me cannot and will not be partial to anyone, but how can I not have expected my heart to soften towards kids who are in this like you and me were once upon a time. Damn it!

****

A came home early and when I opened the door expecting our AC to be delivered, it was him instead – :) . He brought flowers for me today – lilies – and I happened to bake the best ever banana cake I’ve ever baked, which I fed him with. There’s gratitude in this serendipitous synchronicity that was today. :)

****

115: The Ease Of Walking Halfway

25 Apr

It was till almost 11pm last night when I finally got up from my chair to head to bed. I knew what I wanted to do in class today, except I didn’t have the means to get it all done. It’s finally time to get into that part of my subject which I find both fascinatingly intriguing and painful to study as well. My mind only kept insisting that I begin this new chapter with either a reading from a book or by watching a movie based on the same book.

I rushed to my Kindle (what a blessing technology is) only to find the book unavailable, perhaps for controversial reasons. A visit to the bookstore was out of the question. Besides, venturing into this heat towards zero guarantees is a risk I wasn’t willing to take. However, some thinking and help later, I had the movie with me, ready for my students to watch today.

They came halfway too, today. Having sacrificed their break to watch this movie made it seem worth my while. I wish I could be there to see them through the end of the movie (I had another class, but they watched the entire thing in one sitting, letting it spill into their next hour). One needs support, answers, closure when you’re dealing with something so real, yet so unknown and new.

I am looking forward to opening them up to more experiences with my subject, but in time of course. However, these small joys of working, learning, exploring avenues and potentials of learning seal the deal completely.

94: Resonance

4 Apr

Today’s all about perfect indulgences…of which some of them are:

 

 

 

 

 

(drifts away)

77: Pour Your Whiskey

18 Mar

and sink into the soul of this,

 

and this one, which hits the spot every single time.

 

 

Have a lovely Saturday. :)

75: Small Things

16 Mar

I’m a collector of small things in the guise of (what most normal people would consider) trash or scraps (to be kinder), and memories, of course. I’ll leave the former out for now, because you really don’t want to know about the tissues and leaves and sand and other random stuff I collect for “memory’s” sake. However, here are some of the smaller things I’ve completely fallen head over heels in love with, only because they’re more precious to me than anything else.

Going all the way to the railway station with A even if that means studying enroute to prepare for my class the next day only because I love going on drives with him the most.

Falling asleep on his lap by chance (I passed out at an odd 8pm last evening, which I hope is the last and final after effect of the stuff we had on Holi).

Sitting with each other every morning; him poring over the newspaper, and me asking him to share news updates with me as he reads, while we sip our tea.

Couch-potato-ing as we watch tv series together.

Chatting with each other till we fall asleep. Wait, I’m the one who chatters away, and he, I think, secretly sleeps in between. :|

My favourite has to be waking up to a cup of tea made by him. Of course it’s another thing that it isn’t delivered with love in bed, but that I’ve to drag my ass to the table to get it. :P

67: Thrice

8 Mar

I came to this same spot thrice, today. Titles were changed, links were changed, and yet I kept staring at this blank which couldn’t give my inert mind and thoughts the expression they needed. Actually why blame this space, I just didn’t know what to talk about.

Talking about women’s day was something I certainly didn’t want to do. Therefore, my first title was “8th March”, just to make it specifically clear. I love being a woman, I completely and totally do; period pain, hip flab, bushy eyebrows, and all. I’m being obtuse mentioning just physical characteristics, because haha world, we’re a lot more than that, didn’t you know? But I cannot understand the concept of a dedicated day. Maybe one day I will, because it’s there for a reason, right? If I think I know a true feminist well, she doesn’t needday. She doesn’t need any of this bs. If I further these assumptions, which can of course backfire in my face because you know what assumptions can be, a woman in her own right, especially the ones whom we perceive to require internationally sanctioned days like these, don’t need yours, mine, or anyone else’s validation.

Most of yesterday was spent trying to grapple life’s lessons in being an adult. There was that part of the day which begins before my real day does, there was the real day itself – and what a blah day it truly was, there was that part of the day that happens between once I get back from work and when A arrives from office, and of course, there was that part of the day when we’re back in each other’s company again. It isn’t just in four parts, because those sub-compartments are many, as you know. But while this is what life is for you, me, and each and every one of us, yesterday decided to keep me on my toes. From a forgotten ATM visit to the arrival of my gas cylinder (which I had to go to the ATM for in the first place), from a painfully errant internet connection to working with frustrating customer care executives, from skipping my walk because I couldn’t care less to making pizzas (with cheese) for dinner; it was a day that was probably on her period. I’m glad that passed. And so, I came here the second time, and figured I’d write about my boring adulting scene. But the internet died again.

Until it came back and I saw two things –

This video(?) by Kriti Sanon (who?!) who seems pissed off more than anything else.

and

this piece of sheer magic which I had to share, not because it’s the 8th or because I find the need to make statements on just this one day, but because it called out to me on every single thing that I hold dear to my heart.

The full post can be found here, in case you’re curious or interested.

The thoughts triggered by these posts bubbled away as I sat and stared at my wall, obviously caught up in this entire charade that is the 8th of March. These sickeningly sweet, patronizing gestures screaming haha in my face just don’t cut it for me. They’re not cute, they’re not sensitive, they’re certainly not celebratory.

I asked myself if it even mattered; keep quiet and carry on, I told myself. But when you have all this junk floating around you everywhere, it’s hard to turn a blind eye to it. I tried. It’s past 8pm, almost 10 hours after I usually publish a blog post, and this is all that’s been bombarding me the whole day. It’s impossible to live in a bubble, turn a blind eye, and imagine that there are rainbows at the end of the road. It’s frustrating to watch women get gifts that essentially say “here, take this, you’re a woman, and this is what celebrating you is worth.” Call me a cynic, if you must. I’m okay with all that, I’m not okay with assumptions and patronizing acts.

The women I hold very high in my eyes, are women who do not need you, me, or anybody else to validate them. My women face and have faced the rot that is a deeply ingrained way of thinking carried on by both men and women alike, but have emerged with pride, and not with a sense of victimisation. My women are not beautiful because someone told them so, and they certainly aren’t smart because they meet someone else’s standards. They are aware, they are beyond powerful, they are fascinating, they are crazy, they are magical, they are beyond strengths you and I are aware of, they are self-assured, and they are proud. My women, living in this place that is our own world today, and notwithstanding the chinks in their armour, make being this beautiful gender, sex, or whatever have you, one hell of a ride which no roses can sweeten, and no thorns can puncture.

Happy every single day to us all. :)

47: Small Things

16 Feb

The one place where a woman gets to be a girl all over again is at her mother’s place. It’s not about breakfasts in bed or exclusive luxuries which never were a part of our routines before (we never got to eat breakfast in bed unless we were ill). It’s about realising the little things that get left behind when you move on and put your own home together. The ease to sit down,

the gentleness of her stroking my hair,

our endless bickering over the smallest of things,

her powdery fragrance lulling me to sleep,

the touch of her hands,

that filled jug of water that only I drink from,

welcome post-it notes,

pink lilies blooming at my arrival,

my fluffed up quilt,

and the best of them all…

sound sleep without the care of responsibilities.

It’s all in the smallest of things. Always.

44: Saying Goodbye For Now

13 Feb

Winter is a strange season in the north. It’s frigid, grey, dull, dark, and heavy. It’s also intoxicatingly beautiful, and overflowing with warmth in everything else it produces. I love this season the most, especially in our country. Anywhere in our country. Even the extra layers, and the hot hot baths. There’s this freshness that I look forward to, the crispness of the sun, the frivolity of the flora all around us. I’m always sad when it’s time to say goodbye, because look what I’ve to bid adieu to. 


Every season has its own purpose, its own beauty, its own lessons. But despite how harsh winters usually are, it’s this season that warms my heart the most. ❤️