A lifestyle called oyster
It has been nearly 42 days since I have left my job. In this time, there has been some traveling to a few cities, visiting friends. Some I have visited earlier, like Hyderabad. It was an instantly sweet, simple, spiritual connection. Tufts of cotton-y clouds, large timeless rocks, and evenings that don't let go without a fight. The beauty here didn't exactly leap out. But one studied it long enough and a few minutes later, wherever I looked, there was art.
Bangalore I visited for the very first time. Struck me to be a supremely refined place. There's restraint, gentility, a very Little Lord Fauntleroy charm about it; like no-one would raise their voices unnecessarily, no-one would be gauche enough to jump a queue, no-one would dress up with one eye on the crowd gauging if they're being looked at. So proper. And then, the trees. Oh gosh, the trees! They look as timeless as monuments that get unearthed centuries after civilizations have vanquished. I remember walking around MG Road looking at portions of Cubbon Park practically bursting at the seams, waiting to spill on to the traffic. It looked as if this city, the busy-ness of life as we know it now, is so current. It's like this little speck on a mote on a thin sliver of time.We, here and big and important, will come and go. But these trees will be there forever.
And then Delhi. The city I have known since before the face-lift. A city that has been my childhood treat, and also my adulthood nemesis and now, hopefully, my compatriot in peace-keeping of the heart. City with some of my closest friends. City that when no-one is listening, I call mine.
Which brings me back to Bom-Mumbai. My complicated, erratic, spoilt little brat. Ever so often, if it finds me getting a tad affectionate towards any place else, it will grab me back and wipe its snot on my hanky. And there I'll be rushing to offer it my newest, silkiest one to make amends.
The world, truly, could become my oyster. And what's a pearl to do?
Bangalore I visited for the very first time. Struck me to be a supremely refined place. There's restraint, gentility, a very Little Lord Fauntleroy charm about it; like no-one would raise their voices unnecessarily, no-one would be gauche enough to jump a queue, no-one would dress up with one eye on the crowd gauging if they're being looked at. So proper. And then, the trees. Oh gosh, the trees! They look as timeless as monuments that get unearthed centuries after civilizations have vanquished. I remember walking around MG Road looking at portions of Cubbon Park practically bursting at the seams, waiting to spill on to the traffic. It looked as if this city, the busy-ness of life as we know it now, is so current. It's like this little speck on a mote on a thin sliver of time.We, here and big and important, will come and go. But these trees will be there forever.
And then Delhi. The city I have known since before the face-lift. A city that has been my childhood treat, and also my adulthood nemesis and now, hopefully, my compatriot in peace-keeping of the heart. City with some of my closest friends. City that when no-one is listening, I call mine.
Which brings me back to Bom-Mumbai. My complicated, erratic, spoilt little brat. Ever so often, if it finds me getting a tad affectionate towards any place else, it will grab me back and wipe its snot on my hanky. And there I'll be rushing to offer it my newest, silkiest one to make amends.
The world, truly, could become my oyster. And what's a pearl to do?
Comments
How are you?
Well described..
Bhairavareddy
There is no one quite like you.
The last 2 paras wanted me to reach out and smother you in a crushing bear hug (yeah, that's the reaction Salman Rushdie has on me too!!)
I hope there is soon a day when you write a book and I tell everyone that I know that you and I were jailmates several moons ago!!!
Keep the lovely, lilting words flowing....