Chiffonesque

Large vessels were bought and heaved How much could a photograph hold? But the memories and thoughts just flaked away And now rest in an origami fold

It will all be okay, I thought to myself today. The sun was gone, The stars were dead A lonely tree stood Past the dusty road ahead. The world had  shriveled Its name was gone. Its peels had browned Into a sour dawn. So what? I thought to myself today, It will  still , I know, all be okay.

This morning, Ma woke me up to show me something. She'd bought two plants with the sweetest white flowers ever! I love white flowers! I don't know what these plants are called, though. The floweres have creased petals like carnations but are much softer. They look really wispy and fragille, as if they are made of spun sugar and glazed with butter and wax. The flowers have a lovely fragrance - deep and lush! The vendor who sold the plants told Ma that they needed to be given extra water. These plants are heavy with buds too. They look so innocent - these buds, like sleeping children. There's something about the way a flower is so folded into itself in a bud-like state that resembles a baby. I think of tiny curled fists when I see them. Now, I have seven pots of glorious plants in the kitchen balcony! Each with its own story. I love them!

...this innate mechanism of the human mind or heart to forget - at least for the time being. I woke up with a heavy heart today. Yet, as I watered the plants, I felt excited because I'd get to work on an exciting project this week. The weather was cool and it's a Friday. So even though I tried to fight back tears as I listened to my maid's chatter, I wondered what I'd wear to work. I'd got a cute black tee from Sarojini Nagar yesterday. It's got the Friends logo in it. I wore that with a wrap-around skirt. Usually when I am really sad, I start feeling nauseous. It was the same today. When I stepped out of the house, my tummy seemed to squelch with unset jelly. I reached office with a really heavy heart. Yet I smiled and had a conversation - and it wasn't fake either. I genuinely was interested in a colleague's weekend plans and her mother-in-law's recipe of upma with carrots. I emailed someone else and quoted a little from Hemingway's 'Old

It's the 9th of July, 2012 in Delhi. It's hot, humid, and any hint of rain seems to have evaporated from the face of the North Indian earth. I'm in the family court. It's freshly painted and completely air conditioned. The waiting room outside the 'court room' is small and is crawling around with people. Many of them are lawyers and the rest are people they represent. I scan around for faces of the people who are looking blankly at walls. Guys who are fiddling around on their Blackberries, women who are flipping through the files once again. Lawyers who are going over some documents efficiently, mechanically - admonishing their clients -'Why haven't you signed here?' or trying to calm them down - 'Don't worry, it will be okay.' Since I am there for a divorce, I think that everyone is there for a divorce. (It's not true, of course. I'm at the family court and people there are looking to settle family disputes - divorce being ju

The weather in Pune now is soul-stirringly beautiful. Trees are green and pretty ferns are climbing every sort of rocky surface -  interestingly, something so hard surrenders to something so fragile. The rain itself is another muse by itself - lovely, fresh, lilting. It falls like a mellow euphoric haze. Heck, even the water from taps flows almost bard-like. It's a gorgeous, peaceful grey all around. A little girl comes out skipping in the balcony below me. She sees a bird in a nearby tree - a majestic creature with deep purple and red plumes  - shake off water from its feathers. The child starts singing something and hopping from one leg to another. The bird doesn't notice, though. Suddenly, from inside, a voice calls out (I think it's her mother): "Do you want to see a rainbow? If the sun comes out, we'll see one." A long purple feather with red tips has floated on to the beige tiles of the balcony. The girl stops skipping and picks it up. It's