It feels as if a conscience is a very expensive thing to own. It costs you a lot.
Anyway, I a feeling so exhausted with whatever has been going on. But maybe it's best that I write about some happy things.
I made it for a walk today. The best part is that I found my old pair of Zara shorts made of distressed denim. I'd bought this ages ago in Pune with my mum. I'd bought this and a very soft, cozy black and white polka dot tee-shirt. It had long sleeves and a wide boatneck so you could wear it slightly off-the-shoulder as well. The chicest part was that it had a zip at the back. It wasn't really quired because the top itself was flowy and cut really loose. It was so cozy. I used to wear it on flights all the time. Then I wore it to go jogging. Then I wore it to bed. Then it got holes and I kept it away somewhere.
The shorts are really smart though. I like denim shorts with distressed details. I like distressed denim overall. Maximum two small rips, preferably at the knee and maybe a little bit higher. Not near the crotch or anything but I really like it.
Anyway, the walk was good. It wasn't raining and the sky was a beautiful, deep orange and pink shade. Earlier this afternoon, I was just looking through my mum's sarees, cotton ones. They are so pretty. Mum really had great taste...actually more than taste, she used to have such joy to surround herself with beautiful things. Sometimes when things feel a little off, it helps to just run your hands over things that were passed on from the past. Earlier, I could never understand why people collected antiques or were interested in tracing their roots. I think I understand this now.
Maybe the more you live, you see how fragile things are and how tough it is to hold on to something - like one's sense of justice fairplay in commerce or the sense of loyalty in love and friendship. Sometimes it feels like these are some Latin words or words in some obscure language that meant something at one time but not anymore. Maybe that's why when you see a pretty saree or a lovely shawl or a 150-year old table in your house on an ordinary Tuesday, it's a little bit of solace - that the story didn't begin with you.
There's relief in that.
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