So, on a very fine evening, after a walk in the JNU campus and my first plate of the oh-so-delicious-Delhi-ish steaming hot momos with lots of the authentic mirchi chatni in ages, my skin felt more like skin. Delhi times, revisited.
Today is my third day in Delhi and I’m bathing in the distinct smell of weirdness and wonder! What’s so cool about Delhi you may wonder, nothing really. What’s so cool about the badti hui mehngayi? The poor is in poverty, the lower middle class is struggling to protect themselves from the kiss of poverty, the higher middle class is struggling to not struggle for long and the rich has felt the tremors. But I’ll tell you what. Fashion is cheaper than food here! Tomatoes I think cost eighty Rupees and guess what? I shopped three gorgeous stoles for one hundred Rupees, and many other such cheep goodies when I was out with baby doll (that’s what we’ll call my besty) and my sister at Sarojini Nagar (a local market). Omg, fuel for survival comes at a price, zero sized anorexia still in demand! Why?
What’s cool about the noise? Argh nothing. Not after living in one of the most beautiful valleys in Himachal Pradesh. The only noise that annoyed me the most was birds pecking at our windows, asserting their right to get breakfast, lunch and dinner early in the morning. Trust me, they do that. They are used to being hosted at our home every day. And it’s cool only for the first week, and for a late riser like me, it ain’t cool at all!
What’s cool about jams? Toasts and tarts and almost everything! But I’m referring to the not so cool kind of jams. The traffic jams. Oh you get that a lot in Delhi and those are a special kind of kolaveri that can only have been contrived in the deepest and most unholy depts of hell! It took us around five hours to drive to Delhi from Nauni, Solan, Himachal Pradesh. And it took us two hours to drive back home after entering the fringes of Delhi. Frustration sears in. seriously, I look up to my dad; sometimes he can be a paragon of patience.
Is the weather cool in Delhi? Nooooooooooooooooooooo! It is either toasting hot… Or spine chilling cold! Weather wizards don’t do cool in capital cities, that image is for the “Dilli ke dil waalas” to hold. Presently, Delhi is hot. Like jaw of hell hot. June is approaching and January and June in Delhi are the worst Js of the year!
No one in my little happy family finds peace in Delhi. But still, Delhi is happiness for me. As I said, my skin feels more like skin here. My heart beats the happy rhythm. Maybe because I found the almost most absolute people here. What’s funny? None of them are from Delhi. Neither am I.
I digressed completely. This was supposed to be an apology post. Because I owe my little bloggity a sorry post. I was supposed to do a holly jolly post on the 23/4/14. My little love blew her first candle on that day and I didn’t celebrate it. Not that I forgot, I just didn’t. My baby sister gave me a chocolate in celebration, I ate it, but I didn’t do the “happiest happiest blogaversary” post that I should have done.
Why, you may wonder. To answer that, I’ll have to elaborate on the title a little.
Ennui because this constant need to do something is driving me nuts. It is getting way out of hand. Where to begin? For a very long time I didn’t have the courage to really write, I wrote in bits and pieces, scraps and fragments. I have been micro blogging through facebook. I have been writing and erasing things, experiencing the blogger’s block, angry and disappointed with myself. There’s just so much to do starting from baking and quilling to blogging and a course in creative writing, that I did not know where to begin so I didn’t begin at all. A circle has no beginning!
Jilted? Jilted by that dream I fought to live. Began to live. Quit mid way. Quitting doesn’t sound good at all. Not a bit. See where the disappointment and the anger came from? Every idea of mine seemed recycled, from a movie or a book or another blog. I guess it is a human tendency to become extremely self critical when we realise a few of our plans have remained unplanned, or one wrong shot fired boomeranged on us.
I remember, more than a year ago, on a beautiful loverly (I made the word up, it means ‘for lovers’) night, during the pre-relationship days, he asked me who my current love was. The staunch amateur social worker in me franticly yelled “Tata Institute of Social Sciences”. I heard him shift, or maybe adjust. With his lips closer to the phone, he whispered “tell me!” and again, the staunch social worker in the making yelled “Tata Institute of Social Sciences” while my heart hushed a meek “not a lie, it’s just half the truth”. But, god knows, the passion for social work was greater. But still, I dropped the admission I gained to TISS. I know I will go back, but still, that guilt of returning home empty handed, in the process waving a huge middle finger to my physical, emotional and educational investments and responsibilities lingered for a month. Maybe it still does, but relatively, not absolutely. Though I made the decision for myself, it feels like being jilted. Congratulations, I’m still a graduate! Even after all this.
Thus, the band aid on my heart. I remember someone saying to me “Scars are sexy because it means you made a mistake that led to a mess”. How true, the game is in growing out of the mess you made for yourself. I have reached that moment when guilt reaches a saturation point and I am beginning all over again. But this time, baby steps. Starting off with wisdom.
Recuperating.
What contributes a certain cachet to starting this post you may wonder. Another fragment. You know what happened today? After the momo hogging bliss, dad told me off for eating too much. Like any other fat kid, I pulled a face in my defence. Then we went to a park and…
Self thought on a swing – “I love swings and summer evenings.”
The swing haled my name with its last breath, tossed me in the air with no respite, swirling I landed on my haunches!
Argh, is this how ecstatic swings treat healthy, grownup girls?
Its 2:30 in the morning and I’m typing away in super cute mauve pyjamas with clouds on them and an unmatched polo (my sister’s sports uniform for school). I should be sleeping. The Wi-Fi is turned off so I promise myself to post this entry tomorrow.
Anyhow, in all confusions, mishaps and wrong deeds, lord has been very kind. And this break, though it was uncalled for and unplanned, it is a much needed respite from everything heavy and unhappy.
Gratitude.
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