I was cat-napping at a friend's place yesterday afternoon prior to beginning our groupwork for planning. Her mother was watching 'Karpagam' in the living room, and my other three classmates were talking in the dining room; and from where I lay dropping off, I could hear the characteristic Tamil movie dialogue replete with ominous and joyous playback music, interspersed with the dull hum of conversation and laughter. Do you want to know about missing things? Clenching stomach and beating heart and such a sense of loss. All of a sudden I was transported to my summer vacations in Chennai. Sleeping in the most comfortable bed in the house while everyone else pretended to watch the Gemini Ganeshan movie of the day; waking up to succulent mangoes that the entire family relished with a fervour I have never seen anywhere else. Reading by myself in the anteroom, accompanied by a little whirring table fan. Walking in the crystal Madras evenings around Besant Nagar and Annanagar and Choolaimedu. Beach visits by night.
Always getting my way in everything; petted, pampered, spoilt brat that I was. And the teasing - merciless, continuous teasing - that I got so used to that I subconciously expect that loving service from all friends. My favourite cousins and aunts and uncles. All the hugs. All the love.
*sigh*
Bangalore is home, but oh. Madras is family.
Meanwhile, I find I have become confident enough at driving that many things go on autopilot. I cannot make up my mind if this is necessarily a good thing. Airport Road was chock a block with traffic and I was caught at the same signal three times running. If anyone cares to know, it is the same signal.
Bangalore winds were blowing yesterday - blowsy blowing hair every which way and snatching umbrellas from hands of clueless pedestrians ha! The sky was dusky purple haze, and everything smelled of rain, and I sat out on my friend's balcony enjoying it. Extra fun was her neighbour three floors down walking around his apartment in nothing more than a pair of striped briefs and flip-flops. Wish someone could have been there.
Did anyone see the moon and Venus last night? I was on the fifth floor of Manipal centre, that maddeningly badly designed edifice, and the view just took my breath away. Driving in B'lore post-midnight is not as wonderful as it used to be. I remember drives in the car with the family on our way home after a night show, when everyone stared out the window thinking their own little pearls of thoughts. Now it's dead streets and mad roads. It gets incredibly overwhelming sometimes.
And then the smell and the wind and the sky and the trees and the velvet night say, look, see. And I think again, Oh, but I love this city.
And Fiona
And you can use my skin
To bury your secrets in
And I will settle you down
Always getting my way in everything; petted, pampered, spoilt brat that I was. And the teasing - merciless, continuous teasing - that I got so used to that I subconciously expect that loving service from all friends. My favourite cousins and aunts and uncles. All the hugs. All the love.
*sigh*
Bangalore is home, but oh. Madras is family.
Meanwhile, I find I have become confident enough at driving that many things go on autopilot. I cannot make up my mind if this is necessarily a good thing. Airport Road was chock a block with traffic and I was caught at the same signal three times running. If anyone cares to know, it is the same signal.
Bangalore winds were blowing yesterday - blowsy blowing hair every which way and snatching umbrellas from hands of clueless pedestrians ha! The sky was dusky purple haze, and everything smelled of rain, and I sat out on my friend's balcony enjoying it. Extra fun was her neighbour three floors down walking around his apartment in nothing more than a pair of striped briefs and flip-flops. Wish someone could have been there.
Did anyone see the moon and Venus last night? I was on the fifth floor of Manipal centre, that maddeningly badly designed edifice, and the view just took my breath away. Driving in B'lore post-midnight is not as wonderful as it used to be. I remember drives in the car with the family on our way home after a night show, when everyone stared out the window thinking their own little pearls of thoughts. Now it's dead streets and mad roads. It gets incredibly overwhelming sometimes.
And then the smell and the wind and the sky and the trees and the velvet night say, look, see. And I think again, Oh, but I love this city.
And Fiona
And you can use my skin
To bury your secrets in
And I will settle you down
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