Sunday, June 07, 2015

668

Now I don't even know whether it's the work or it's me. There is so much of the grind I have to go through from Monday to Friday that the Saturday is just spent sleeping. Waking up with a fuzzy taste in the mouth. Then sleeping. Then feeling dehydrated and having some water. Then sleeping. Today I am just so fed up with my inability to cope with everything that I ate a lot. And then slept again. This evening, though, I was invited to a friend's reception. A bunch of us from office were going together. I wore a sari. Interestingly, it was a sari gifted by a friend from Bangalore. The friend whose reception I was attending has also moved to Bangalore. I like my saree draped a little casual, no pins or fuss. The saree didn't have a fall and the pally had loose threads. I like sarees that way - especially for summer. Anyway, I wore tube skirt for a top and a large black bindi.

A wardrobe is an interesting thing. Last few months I have been feeling ugly. Someone clicked a picture of me the other day and I didn't like what I saw - a puffy face, no colour, thick arms, and thinning hair. Yet, instead of wearing something simple or safe t cover the arms or the slacking stomach, etc, I chose a bright-yellow tube skirt to wear for a blouse, and a thin white, black, and grey saree that had a darling warli print on it. I'd draped it such that the saree looped around my neck twice. I think even on the days one feels dowdy, frumpy, old, and fat, something pretty in the wardrobe always draws you in.

It was a lovely evening. We sat in a garden, there was tasty food, jazz, and long silhouettes of bamboo trees. We chatted a bit with my friend who is staying in Bangalore now, having a new life, making ne friends. It's all very fascinating. In a sense, like reading a new book.

On the way back, my friend took a wrong turn and we entered into a tiny settlement that had a green swing just set up in the middle of the road. To it's left was an even tinier lane and the huts in that lane had bright orange kandeels. It reminded me of Wit's End in Bandra and it was lovely. The strong tug of nostalgia was, for a fleeting moment, too much for me to bear.

Finally, we got on to the right road that got us to Baner through a winding sope beyond which larhe hills lay dark an silent. The friend whose reception I attended - she and I used to walk up one of those together. As we drove, a nice song started playing on the radio. Meanwhile my friend narrated a story of magic and love and loss and collapse of time. It was a fine night- soft and gentle.

Somewhere inside of me, I think I am ready to leave Pune. I am ready to leave this life the way I live it now. Maybe it's Pune saying goodbye.

Maybe time will tell.

 

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