Conversations In My Head - 2

Hello Good days!

Long time no see. How have you been?
I just called to ask if you are okay. I haven't heard from you in a while.

The thing is I haven't been doing too well of late, work pressure, financial crisis, heartaches and such. So some of my friends and close ones have been telling me that you are gonna come soon and make everything okay. I was really looking forward to that. But alas!

I've been waiting for a while now and you haven't reached here yet, so I was just checking up on you to see if you have maybe lost your way?
Just to make things easier for you, I'm still where you left me last. The address hasn't changed.

Another thing, you don't have to get lots of presents for me when you come, just a few laughters, a bit of good health and some peace of mind maybe? Nothing more.
Oh! but I do need some money. Actually lots of money. Yea, you can get me lots of money if you want. That'd be nice.

So good days, let me know when you're gonna get here so that I can revel in anticipation at least.

Much love,
D

I had not known another body could do this to mine.

I had not known, before us, that every vein in my body was capable of carrying light, like a river seen from a train makes a channel of sky etch itself deep into a landscape. I had not really known I could be so much more than myself; I had not known another body could do this to mine.

—Ali Smith (via beryl-azure)

Conversations in my head - Part 1

Dear Brownie,

I hate to write this and I'm really very sorry but we can't be friends anymore. I have a new friend now, Miss Slim Pants. She thinks it’s a bad idea for us to continue being friends. I really cannot have both of you and must let one go. I hope you understand, Miss Slim Pants means a lot to me. She's so cool. I've wanted to be friends with her ever since I can remember.

You know brownie, she’s very different from you and me. She's smart, confident and beautiful. Not awkward at all. Do you understand what I'm saying? She's like the red velvet cake of your world; everybody wants a piece of her. But she can be too sweet at times. You on the other hand my dear brownie are just the right amount of sweet. She can be very mean but then again she looks so nice that most of the time people ignore everything else.

 It feels great to be with her, although it does get a bit uncomfortable at times. But you my dear brownie have always made me feel good. You were always there to comfort me and you never made me break up with my other friends. Oh! I don't know what to do! :( What should I do Brownie?

Love,

Damy

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Dear Damy,

You do the right thing girl. Sure my walnuts will fall apart without you but that's no reason for you to look back. You should embrace new things in life. It may hurt for a while and you might miss me, but soon when you're all pretty and thin and you're with Miss Slim Pants, you'll forget all about me. But I will never forget you my dear. I'll always look out for you from behind the counters of Theobroma; and when you walk in with Miss Slim Pants and order yourself only a cup of green tea, I'll understand that you've moved on.

Be happy my friend.

Love,

Brownie

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Dear Brownie,

It's been a month since I saw you last. I'm so lonely without you. There's no sweetness left in my life anymore. Miss Slim Pants says that she can't be friends with me yet and I need to exercise and stop eating altogether if I want to be with her. I think she's very mean.

Can I come and see you sometime?

Love,

Damy

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Dear Damy,

Of course you can come and see me. I'm still here and my love for you is unconditional. You know I'd never ask you to change one thing about you. I love you just the way you are, love handles and all. :)

You'll always be my friend.

Love,

Brownie

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 Dear Brownie.

You're a true friend and I love you too!

I know what I must do now. I'm breaking up with Miss Slim Pants. She's a mean bitch.

I just want to be with you. I have so much to tell you. xoxo

Let's meet up over a cup of coffee?

Love,

Damy

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Dear Damy,

I'll be waiting for you! xoxo

Love,

Brownie

Bombay Rain

Rain in Bombay is something else altogether. We wait all year long for the rains, grumbling, complaining, and pleading to the rain gods; but when it arrives we regret its arrival almost immediately. That’s how Bombay rain is, you can’t live with it, and you can’t live without it.

The first day that it rained for just 3 hours, the entire city went crazy. It was like when you leave blind mice in a box that smells of cheese, they run helter skelter. Everyone seemed so confused. They didn't know what had hit them. Roads were jammed, traffic choked, new pits and manholes magically appeared on the roads. There wasn't a rickshaw in sight; all the drivers suddenly seemed to have vanished in to thin air. People were running for shelter. It was total chaos.

Only after a day or two of torrential rainfall did people finally get the hang of it and moved about their daily lives unperturbed by the rain. Normalcy returned, at least on the surface.

I have loved the rains for as long as I remember, especially in Shillong. The hills come alive with the first shower. The fresh smell of wet earth, roads that look clean and pristine, leaves that turn a darker shade of green and the lovely cold breeze. Steady pitter patter of raindrops on tin roofs and the occasional sun peeping from the clouds.

Bombay rains are so different. There is no petrichor, instead there is a dirty stink that will make you gag. Dug up roads are filled with knee deep muck. Getting somewhere during the rain is a royal pain in the ass. And mind you, in Bombay it doesn't just rain, it pours. It’s like somebody’s emptying bucketful of water on your head. People who haven’t been out of Bombay in rains will not understand what all the fuss is about.

But no matter how difficult life gets in Bombay during the rains, I’ll always have a special place for it in my heart. Long drives with friends, bhajia and chai at a tapri, getting splashed by big wild waves in Marine Drive, sharing a steaming mug of coffee and conversations with your best friend while watching the rain pour harder than ever before… and my red raincoat.

This is my Bombay rain, a part of my heart.

Mumbai Local Chronicles

Every morning, a ritual ensues. The walk to the station is like a carefully choreographed dance - matching step for step, careful not to bump, dodging every unsought contact, flowing in harmony with the crowd. Calculating every move, carefully maneuvering your way ahead.

Finally you reach the holy grounds (read platform). You wait for the train to arrive, carefully sizing up your competitors. They come in all shapes and sizes with varied degree of makeup/strength. Too many middle aged ladies are the toughest, hardened by experience; even the smallest of them could easily slam dunk you and beat you to the door.

As the train approaches you carefully inch closer to the edge of the platform, heart beating, palms sweating, beads of perspiration forming on your upper lips. Nope its not love, it's only the approaching train. As the train slows gradually these expert stunt women jump into the still moving train with sleek cat like precision. You also try to clamber in but more often than not you literally have to go with the flow and are involuntarily pushed inside the train.

Once inside you suddenly feel like you have entered a Nazi torture chamber. You feel claustrophobic. You are squeezed and touched in every possible manner, yet you are miles away from any pleasure. Then the hunt for a place to park your bum begins, you dart from one seat to another tapping and poking women with eyebrows raised in a question mark – which translates to  “ Where are you getting off?” They will in turn either shrug their shoulders to say that the seats already taken or shake their heads saying they’re not getting off anywhere soon. One of the advantages of this is that you become a pro at sign language and lip reading. The shoulder tapping tradition is the necessary evil, especially if you’re at the receiving end. People don’t care if you’re sleeping, reading or talking on the phone, they will tap you to death if you don’t answer them. Women start eyeing potential nearest possible evacuation. Eyes sharp as hawk, quick to catch any sudden movement. Any lady touches her purse, adjusts her saree or so much as heaves a sigh; people are quick to attack – kuthe Utraiche? Followed by mala deya.  

The ordeal does not end here, there is a hierarchy even when it comes to the sitting, only the very lucky privileged starting station ladies will get the most coveted window seat, after that it’s all struggle for existence and survival of the fittest theory.. In this manner you secure a fourth seat after 2 stations if you’re very lucky.Three women sitting on a seat where 4 medium sized women can easily fit will move all hell if you ask them to scoot a bit. Women spreading their legs so wide, if they put in half as much effort at home they wouldn’t be so cranky in the first place. After some loud complaining groans and grunts they will pick up their bum and place it right back where it was just giving you 4 centimetres of butt space where you barely fit a square inch of your bum. You have to try and fit yourself in that small excuse of a seat. But the magic of it all is that no matter how small that seat is, you will never fall off. These fourth seaters defy all forces of gravity. The natural forces around you (read women standing too close for comfort all around) will ensure that you’re firmly held in place. In return they will only use your shoulder as an arm or bag rest.

Once you have settled in you look around to see so many faces, so many stories, old wrinkly women, little playful kids, young girls, some smiling, some frowning, you see plain looking nymphet’s turning into beautiful butterflies – But that again is another story for another day.

I'm sitting all alone in CCD with my laptop for company. I have seen many girls sitting in such places with a book or a laptop and often thought- How cool! I mean, a girl sitting all alone, not paying any attention to anything that's happening around, engrossed in her thoughts/Book/work... what could underline independence more than that? But then you never know, that independent looking girl maybe really really lonely, scared to stay alone at home, disguising her loneliness with a cover of independence..Maybe not she really is independent, she really doesn't mind getting a cup of coffee on her own..

Me? well m just here because I'm waiting for someone and getting bored. Nothing remarkable. I know.