I stayed up all night last week finishing up work. After some 10-12 hours of writing, I would lie down for a couple of hours before I woke up and sat at the laptop again. It was so physically gruelling. But every morning, around 6 or so, it would rain. I would open the windows of my room wide and listen to the rhythm. It usually sounds like a steady, light clinging of a coin-chain. The potted plants by the grate are in blue and brown clay pots. They'd shuffle to the wind like little, leafy toddlers.
There are times when writing is so rigorous that I wonder if I will ever get a weekend to relax. But those few moments in the morning were such beautiful post-its of leisure. Until a complete weekend comes, I'll take what I can get.
Around 4 a.m. today, I finished a large chunk of an assignment. After the laptop had flickered and shut down, I got p and looked out. It was so quiet and dark outside. It was quiet and dark outside my room too. I suddenly felt empty. Also a little sad. When I get up from my work with the vigor of a task well done, there's no-one around.
I tried sleeping but couldn't. So I read Diane von Furstenberg's interview in an earlier issue of Vogue. Then at sunrise I woke up, feeling peckish.
Last night, the cook had made some tasty soy cutlets. (I love, love, love soya - especially cutlets.) These were a little chewy and mixed well with tiny shreds of garlic and ginger and some kind of coarse, spicy powder. There's a great tenacity with which soya holds flavor. These cutlets were moist, tender and very juicy. They were nice and thick so I decided to make myself a burger.
Mom had got some wholewheat, rye burger buns last week. I have to say, I don't like bread too much. But these were quite rustic and home-y. I slathered these buns with mayonnaise, spread out a salad leaf (it looked really romantic on the bun too; like a lover with his arms spread wide to embrace his love), put on the soy mince patty, toasted the whole burger on a pan and slid it on a plate. (I like that part of cooking the best - when food gets transferred from pan to plate.)
To wash it off, I had some Pear and Raspberry cordial (it's a Waitrose product and it is lip-smacking - tart, cool, snappy, wonderful.)
I got my breakfast back to my room. The sky had started singing again. Rain fell. I ate.
Really. I could live like this forever.