It’s been gorgeous since the last couple of days…impromptu late night drives to Mount Mary definitely have something to do with it. As does ambling around the kitchen at dawn and having hot milk and jaggery. The warm bed and a cozy book with hard, cold rain beating outside is nice. Smooth traffic unexpected on Monday mornings is glorious as well. The best of all, right at this moment, is thinking of the trip I’ll be taking shortly. I keep dreaming of the yummy drinks I’ll be sipping after splashing about in the pool; or the yummy drinks I’ll be sipping after a long, hard day at flea markets; or the yummy drinks I’ll be sipping with friends at a bar overlooking a beautiful, busy city. Sipping yummy drinks is pretty much what I’ve been thinking about.
Not that I have done much more than just dream of what swimming costume I’ll be wearing once I get there….
The costume reminds me…I got a very dramatic, snazzy one in fire engine red with black swirls on it. I thought it looked really chic. Until I showed it to my room-mates and they started chanting, “Spiderman! Spiderman!” While I sulked away in the corner (much unlike the ‘friendly neighbourhood’ counterpart), they guffawed their way to the kitchen. I was placated with some really tasty parathas.
I would like to learn how to make parathas. Have asked my roomie to teach. me. I think between making a paratha and parking a car, one should be employing of all sorts of motor skills.
I have super-humungous amounts of work to finish and also try to go to the parlour sometime today. And I have to get foreign exchange and I have to decide what to pack. And I have to decide on which book to take on the flight. And also which shoes. And I have to hunt for a decent, smart pair of pants because everything else I have is damp. And get a good night’s sleep. And maybe read up on the place I am visiting. And maybe watch Singg is King.
And and and…
I’m listening to Kandisa. It’s so….powerful and sweeping.
I remember a time when I was at a beach in Puri. I must have been eight or nine years old. Despite being told not to go into the water, I went ahead. My parents were elsewhere and my aunts and uncles were taking a nap or something. I don’t remember. But there I was, inching closer to a belligerent sea. It was quite rough. My feet were squelching in the sand, and I think I was drugged with that salty, briny spray of sea water.
Then, suddenly, a huge wave just swooped down like an aquatic eagle. It was a massive cascade of water. It built up so high and came down with such force…I remember closing my eyes in fear. But the waves took me in very gently, only to bring me back with a tenderness I have since associated with water. I can’t forget or describe that moment when I was lifted up… I remember feeling weightless for a minute or so; and my heart stopping for a really tiny second…and the next minute, there’s a rush of adrenaline or relief. It felt like my mum’s embrace…usually before and after she had whacked us.
If could set that fear and exhilaration to a tune, it would be Kandisa.
Such a beautiful irony that the song is composed by a band called ‘Indian Ocean’.
Not that I have done much more than just dream of what swimming costume I’ll be wearing once I get there….
The costume reminds me…I got a very dramatic, snazzy one in fire engine red with black swirls on it. I thought it looked really chic. Until I showed it to my room-mates and they started chanting, “Spiderman! Spiderman!” While I sulked away in the corner (much unlike the ‘friendly neighbourhood’ counterpart), they guffawed their way to the kitchen. I was placated with some really tasty parathas.
I would like to learn how to make parathas. Have asked my roomie to teach. me. I think between making a paratha and parking a car, one should be employing of all sorts of motor skills.
I have super-humungous amounts of work to finish and also try to go to the parlour sometime today. And I have to get foreign exchange and I have to decide what to pack. And I have to decide on which book to take on the flight. And also which shoes. And I have to hunt for a decent, smart pair of pants because everything else I have is damp. And get a good night’s sleep. And maybe read up on the place I am visiting. And maybe watch Singg is King.
And and and…
I’m listening to Kandisa. It’s so….powerful and sweeping.
I remember a time when I was at a beach in Puri. I must have been eight or nine years old. Despite being told not to go into the water, I went ahead. My parents were elsewhere and my aunts and uncles were taking a nap or something. I don’t remember. But there I was, inching closer to a belligerent sea. It was quite rough. My feet were squelching in the sand, and I think I was drugged with that salty, briny spray of sea water.
Then, suddenly, a huge wave just swooped down like an aquatic eagle. It was a massive cascade of water. It built up so high and came down with such force…I remember closing my eyes in fear. But the waves took me in very gently, only to bring me back with a tenderness I have since associated with water. I can’t forget or describe that moment when I was lifted up… I remember feeling weightless for a minute or so; and my heart stopping for a really tiny second…and the next minute, there’s a rush of adrenaline or relief. It felt like my mum’s embrace…usually before and after she had whacked us.
If could set that fear and exhilaration to a tune, it would be Kandisa.
Such a beautiful irony that the song is composed by a band called ‘Indian Ocean’.
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