I feel sad tonight. At yoga today, when we did the Chaitanya asana (or the Shavasana, as it is more popularly known), the instructor asked us to visualize ourselves as a little drop that falls into the ocean and becomes one with it. This instructor, usually, flounders for correct words to explain postures and breathing techniques. But this segment she conducted with remarkable fluency. Her voice reverberated with relief, almost. I could sense that this imagery means something to her. Her comfort, with not just going there but taking the entire class to that place, indicated that she must have made that trip several times.
I feel sad because last three days were so sharp, full and happy. I met so many friends who made time for me at short notice. In fact, it felt as if time was stretching itself to inlcude a soiree or a party for me. I would leave from Hiranandani around 8 p.m. to go to Bandra and get dinner with a pal and then dash to catch the last bus home. Or I would leave from Vashi to go to Peddar Road, while away a few beautiful hours looking at sunsets, then go to Haji Ali, then cab it to Bandra for a meal, then rick it to Juhu beach for some falooda, then catch the last bus home.
It's luscious. This life. My life. Last few days have been so grand - in terms of great watershed conversational moments. I have had breakthroughs over a wedge of apple-pie with ice-cream, or a dish of creamy, vegetarian lasagna. My friends have proferred insights over cheese sandwiches and coffee at Jaslok and then exquisite cream and mangoes at Haji Ali. They have held my hand and told me to 'get on with it' as I chomped on popcorn in cabs whizzing through the Worli Sea-Link. They have urged me to be patient and just 'hang in there' as I ate up my caramel custard in Hotel Sahil in tiny licks. I have tried to figure out the next few months while gulping down sugarcane juice. I have tried to make peace with unpleasant memories eating a Lay potato chip, one groove at a time.
Yesterday, I finally lay down sated with every single morsel of time. Crumpled bedspreads, cool bedclothes, and eyes heavy with sleep. My heart was soaring. It was so ideal - this peace of living in a city where, no matter where I am, I have someone to have coffee with. Some food that is tasty enough to make me forget about waste-land type uncertainties. Lanes and roads that are a little new to be exciting and a lot familiar to be comfortable.
I feel sad today because all this - all THIS - will intermingle tomorrow. It has already started melding into reminiscences that have the profiles of watercolors. So 'much' is fast becoming the drop that will fall into the ocean and end.
Never mind. So far I am just glad that my lane finally has street lamps. I sometimes walk from Vashi depot to my home around 12:30 p.m. and there's my lane - all bright and cheery, mimicking wide daylight. It's happy.
Irrespective of tonight's sadness, the drop is happy. Maybe the ocean will be glad too.
I feel sad because last three days were so sharp, full and happy. I met so many friends who made time for me at short notice. In fact, it felt as if time was stretching itself to inlcude a soiree or a party for me. I would leave from Hiranandani around 8 p.m. to go to Bandra and get dinner with a pal and then dash to catch the last bus home. Or I would leave from Vashi to go to Peddar Road, while away a few beautiful hours looking at sunsets, then go to Haji Ali, then cab it to Bandra for a meal, then rick it to Juhu beach for some falooda, then catch the last bus home.
It's luscious. This life. My life. Last few days have been so grand - in terms of great watershed conversational moments. I have had breakthroughs over a wedge of apple-pie with ice-cream, or a dish of creamy, vegetarian lasagna. My friends have proferred insights over cheese sandwiches and coffee at Jaslok and then exquisite cream and mangoes at Haji Ali. They have held my hand and told me to 'get on with it' as I chomped on popcorn in cabs whizzing through the Worli Sea-Link. They have urged me to be patient and just 'hang in there' as I ate up my caramel custard in Hotel Sahil in tiny licks. I have tried to figure out the next few months while gulping down sugarcane juice. I have tried to make peace with unpleasant memories eating a Lay potato chip, one groove at a time.
Yesterday, I finally lay down sated with every single morsel of time. Crumpled bedspreads, cool bedclothes, and eyes heavy with sleep. My heart was soaring. It was so ideal - this peace of living in a city where, no matter where I am, I have someone to have coffee with. Some food that is tasty enough to make me forget about waste-land type uncertainties. Lanes and roads that are a little new to be exciting and a lot familiar to be comfortable.
I feel sad today because all this - all THIS - will intermingle tomorrow. It has already started melding into reminiscences that have the profiles of watercolors. So 'much' is fast becoming the drop that will fall into the ocean and end.
Never mind. So far I am just glad that my lane finally has street lamps. I sometimes walk from Vashi depot to my home around 12:30 p.m. and there's my lane - all bright and cheery, mimicking wide daylight. It's happy.
Irrespective of tonight's sadness, the drop is happy. Maybe the ocean will be glad too.
Comments
And seriosuly, no one describes about food better than you do.