Some call it fever
Since last week, I seem to be coming down with something. Like, maybe I had stepped into this bath tub of slow fever and was getting submerged bit by bit. I think if I had just heeded the steady pounding in my head, I would have slept it off and been fine.
But that would have been a smart thing to do. And one has generally displayed proclivities to do stupid things, so one didn’t sleep it off. What one did, in fact, is exerted oneself some more.
I believe there was a dinner with Anumita, SS, and J in Malad. We went to the Lemon Grass there which is okay, I guess. I don’t remember what I had; and I, strangely, don’t remember much of the dinner conversation. I remember giggling over something trite with SS, and wondering why bedsheets aren’t made of flannel…but most of the time, I was just drifting in and out of some grand swishy feeling. I think there was some talk of Bandra colliding with an auto… (I’ve apologized to her numerous times thereafter and also shed copious tears and promised to not have ice-cream until she forgives me, etc. etc. A tad easy to do since I don’t like ice-creams. And then last night I scraped her on the side. I keep promising that I’ll sort it all out soon. But man, it hurt! More importantly…she hurt! Somewhere, Bandra has become an extension of myself, and I think I’m obsessing over her a little too much. But I feel bad. I feel bad that it suffers because of my inexperience. I’m sure on it’s own it would do fine, but in my hands, it gets bruised. And yet, it’s always ready the next time I sit in it. It’s sweet and willing and raring to go. It’s such a kind car, my Bandra. It’s such a gentle blue. And I’m sure it’s strong too. And like all sweet, gentle, strong people, Bandra too will have to bear the brunt of the inept. Sometimes, I feel as if I’m seeing my traits in my daughter and know that these traits will probably cause her heartache some day – the way they did for me. But I guess it’s a matter of time before we find our perfect rhythm and get past all this. The idea is to never look back, right? Or stay stuck. Okay, then.)
On with my fever story.
So after dinner, Anumita and I went to High Lounge in Sahara Star. It’s such a funny place! I’m sure there must’ve been a panel of architects doing up that place and all…but it seemed like a doll-house to me. An eco-tel for Barbie, if you please. (That would be a paradox, considering she’s plastic.) The lounge itself was quite nice and Anumita and I chatted for a long time and munched on some soggy salted nuts. I remember feeling good then; feeling a warm sweet sleep come over me. I could have stayed there for hours.
The next morning is when the interesting stuff started to happen.
I had to drive back to Vashi from Goregaon. It was a Sunday morning and the road, for the most part, was deliciously empty. It was breezy and pleasant, and there was good music on the radio, and my cousin was waiting for me at home, and my mum had made soya pulao and lauki kofta. Life was definitely a trail of treats.
But steadily, I started feeling dizzier. My mouth turned dry and I started tearing up and I felt my body get hot. And suddenly, I was awashed with this exquisite, dizzy sleepiness and body ache. It was getting a little difficult to drive then. The road seemed to do a slow waltz and the flyovers just seemed to lead to a nice warm comfortable cloud in the sky.
So I pulled over, shut off the engine, put my head on the wheel and slept.
There, in the quiet Sunday hum of the city, I had a fabulous, surreal dream.
I saw huge, maybe 10 or 12 feet high, pink birds. They weren’t the cartoon variety. I actually got a sense of the texture of their feathers and big wings and soft tummies. They lived in a colony of some sort, and I think one of them had taken me with them. We were walking on a narrow road and we reached a row of tenements – not unlike Hugh Grant’s place in Notting Hill. The bird that was walking with me went up to one house and unlocked the door. I was waiting behind, a little unsure of whether I needed to enter or not. The bird then turned back and beckoned me.
After that, I think I woke up or I forgot what else happened with the birds. But I remember feeling very cozy. As if I had been incubated for the half hour that I was asleep.
I felt really refreshed and then I zipped across yet another flyover to reach home quickly. You might even say…I’d got wings.
But that would have been a smart thing to do. And one has generally displayed proclivities to do stupid things, so one didn’t sleep it off. What one did, in fact, is exerted oneself some more.
I believe there was a dinner with Anumita, SS, and J in Malad. We went to the Lemon Grass there which is okay, I guess. I don’t remember what I had; and I, strangely, don’t remember much of the dinner conversation. I remember giggling over something trite with SS, and wondering why bedsheets aren’t made of flannel…but most of the time, I was just drifting in and out of some grand swishy feeling. I think there was some talk of Bandra colliding with an auto… (I’ve apologized to her numerous times thereafter and also shed copious tears and promised to not have ice-cream until she forgives me, etc. etc. A tad easy to do since I don’t like ice-creams. And then last night I scraped her on the side. I keep promising that I’ll sort it all out soon. But man, it hurt! More importantly…she hurt! Somewhere, Bandra has become an extension of myself, and I think I’m obsessing over her a little too much. But I feel bad. I feel bad that it suffers because of my inexperience. I’m sure on it’s own it would do fine, but in my hands, it gets bruised. And yet, it’s always ready the next time I sit in it. It’s sweet and willing and raring to go. It’s such a kind car, my Bandra. It’s such a gentle blue. And I’m sure it’s strong too. And like all sweet, gentle, strong people, Bandra too will have to bear the brunt of the inept. Sometimes, I feel as if I’m seeing my traits in my daughter and know that these traits will probably cause her heartache some day – the way they did for me. But I guess it’s a matter of time before we find our perfect rhythm and get past all this. The idea is to never look back, right? Or stay stuck. Okay, then.)
On with my fever story.
So after dinner, Anumita and I went to High Lounge in Sahara Star. It’s such a funny place! I’m sure there must’ve been a panel of architects doing up that place and all…but it seemed like a doll-house to me. An eco-tel for Barbie, if you please. (That would be a paradox, considering she’s plastic.) The lounge itself was quite nice and Anumita and I chatted for a long time and munched on some soggy salted nuts. I remember feeling good then; feeling a warm sweet sleep come over me. I could have stayed there for hours.
The next morning is when the interesting stuff started to happen.
I had to drive back to Vashi from Goregaon. It was a Sunday morning and the road, for the most part, was deliciously empty. It was breezy and pleasant, and there was good music on the radio, and my cousin was waiting for me at home, and my mum had made soya pulao and lauki kofta. Life was definitely a trail of treats.
But steadily, I started feeling dizzier. My mouth turned dry and I started tearing up and I felt my body get hot. And suddenly, I was awashed with this exquisite, dizzy sleepiness and body ache. It was getting a little difficult to drive then. The road seemed to do a slow waltz and the flyovers just seemed to lead to a nice warm comfortable cloud in the sky.
So I pulled over, shut off the engine, put my head on the wheel and slept.
There, in the quiet Sunday hum of the city, I had a fabulous, surreal dream.
I saw huge, maybe 10 or 12 feet high, pink birds. They weren’t the cartoon variety. I actually got a sense of the texture of their feathers and big wings and soft tummies. They lived in a colony of some sort, and I think one of them had taken me with them. We were walking on a narrow road and we reached a row of tenements – not unlike Hugh Grant’s place in Notting Hill. The bird that was walking with me went up to one house and unlocked the door. I was waiting behind, a little unsure of whether I needed to enter or not. The bird then turned back and beckoned me.
After that, I think I woke up or I forgot what else happened with the birds. But I remember feeling very cozy. As if I had been incubated for the half hour that I was asleep.
I felt really refreshed and then I zipped across yet another flyover to reach home quickly. You might even say…I’d got wings.
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