Goshiness

-
I have finally summoned up enough strength to get through a wad of work for today. I'm done. Complete. Clean. Finished. Slate is clean.

Tomorrow I have to trudge up to my father's office for some work. It will be fun I think but only if I can have a delicious langorous morning after having a heavy, sweet sleep. Unlikely because I intend to do some luscious reading - the kind of reading where I don't even blink. I am reading 'Life of Pi' by Yann Martel and that book is so dense with soul!

I think some people are like butterflies. Or rather they communicate the way a butterfly lightly flits about you. Similarly, their words have meaning hovering around them. Like a sweet little mote on a beam of soft lavender light. Maybe the way, if you have shampooed your hair before you sleep, the next morning you get a lungful of the fresh juicy scent in your nose when you wake up. As I was saying, some people are gentle with their words and meanings. Like they spray a word with what they intend to say and let it float on to you. Unlike others. There are some who sew on meanings to their words - with those thick, big needles you sew shoes with. Why do I bring this up? I spoke to someone today who wouldn't give me her name. She said she had gotten my number from a common friend whose name she wouldn't disclose either. And then I gave up because her voice was sweet. She spoke so nicely. We talked about coffee and her preferences in tea and music. (I think it's a nice name for a soap - tea and music. I don't want it to be the name of a cafe or lounge. I want it to be something that gets on you and then in you and then, lost.) Afterwards, she said goodbye and hung up. I have a feeling I know her. I have a feeling she wants me to trace her and call her back. She didn't say anything outright. But everything she said lingers.

I would like to go swimming again. In the sea. The sea is such a massive crazy pet!  My senses just get an amusement ride thrill just talking about it.

Okay. I am tired now. Maybe I'll sleep well.

Comments

Vinita said…
Goodnight! Sleep well.

I love the name "tea and music"...makes me homesick. Hope it is a soap too.

Have you tried 'Waiting' by Ha Jin?
10:55 PM
crab said…
sigh even me is feeling tired today. Cant say tho if will sleep well. you take care Mukta. good nite :)
11:42 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Check (the) mate

-
My cousin, who was born sixteen hours before me, got married recently. I am expected to follow her footsteps soon. Thankfully, I have been granted more than sixteen hours to do that. My father’s health has taken a turn for the worse. My mother is completely exhausted. Rationally, points 1, 2, and 3 would be distinct from each other. But in my family there is no such thing as ‘rationally’. Therefore all these points are inter-related. Strangely, here, we believe my marriage to be an antidote to mortality and fatigue. I happened to be sitting in my parents’ room while Ma looked through Papa’s blood reports. They didn’t look good. Ma was worried and Papa didn’t help matters much. He kept talking about Sourav Ganguly and why he deserved better. Ma got further agitated and after flinging the reports somewhere inconvenient to retrieve (I should know), she snapped, “So what? There are many like him.” Papa doesn’t believe that and would have no one in his family believe that either. He went to...
Read more

Not the same, all the same - Rang de Basanti, being a Hindu, uniform civil code, and Hostage – in that unrelated sequence

-
I watched ‘Rang de basanti’. That, however, is not the point. Everyone now wants to go to Delhi and cruise around in jeeps at night. And that too is not the point. I need to say something. That, really, is the point. ‘Rang de…’ is a good movie but frankly, I’ve seen better. I’ve seen ‘Yuva’. It is creditable, though, that the movie could say what it did without using the ‘sage on the stage’ (as we say in Instructional Design) approach. The movie does have a couple of ideas that I have been besotted with for a long time now. One is the life of a story. There is the germ of an idea about men who go to their deaths cheerfully. There is fascination about what could inspire such courage in ordinary people. That story lays inside a diary for a long time. How long? Long enough for history to play itself out and begin the process of repeating itself. A nation goes the ‘Animal Farm’ way – humans out, pigs in. The story lays untouched – fermenting in latent vigor. Then someone discovers it. She ...
Read more

Save the Indian (male) child

-
This isn't exactly a feminist tirade, but this is written by a woman, and it is written in annoyance. You raise your girls to be sweet, strong, and independent. (Wise parents teach their children to listen to opinions and discard or heed accordingly. The other ones just teach their kids to bullshit everything that everyone says. Still others bring up girls to be on guard and forget that spine so that everyone thinks well of them. I am not sure which is worse, but I detest people shoving their opinions down other people's throats in a show of liberation, so I'll lean towards the former. But only slightly.) As the gender construct of being a 'female' is pushed even further, you teach your daughter complicated activities – driving, perhaps, sending them off away from home, wearing a sari (those freaking pleats!), cooking and de-veining prawns for added advantage. At the end of that, you have a person who genuinely dislikes blending into anything, doesn't like bei...
Read more