Chiffonesque

Today was a nice, cheery day. I went to Mount Mary's twice. This afternoon V took me to buy shirts for my dad and brother. And then we went for a ride to Bandstand and all. And I went at night, as per my habit. It is so lusciously lovely at night. The weather is cool and fresh and every night, closer to Diwali, more and more lights are getting set up. So it looks like a tree-lined Avenue with luminous flowers.  As I approached the Mount tonight, I saw some things being set up, possibly for shooting. Not sure if it was film or a news crew or something. I have always noticed that when there is a media crew around, the hawkers just sell better quality stuff. I thought I will get a cup of hot coffee and samosa. But I had ordered a box of besan laddoos. I had a dream about laddoos during my nap. I LOVE besan laddoos. The best are the ones from ISKCON. Oh my God! I would join Hare Rama Hare Krishna in a heartbeat if they assured me that I could always have those laddoos. I ordered from P

  I have known Peter Griffin for a while now. During the first pandemic, he started a Facebook group called 'Simple Recipes for Complicated Times'. It was mainly for people who, like me, did not cook regularly or didn't know cooking too well. It was one of the most fantastic, informative forums I was part of. It was completely crowdsourced and as far as community groups go, it was rich and layered and nuanced. I learned so much that I actually wanted to write about how it helped me shape some strategies for collaborative learning, something I can use in my field. (But I didn't get around to it.) I believe that forum is still there on FB. Anyway, Peter has started a series of discussions called 'Table Talks' where he invites a guest/ friend and chats with them about food and food adjacent topics. There have been some very interesting sessions. I attended a couple - there was one by Vikram Doctor about understanding Gandhi through his dietary choices, another one

The last few days there have been lots of cops in Bandstand, especially around Mount Mary's. Today there were two cops choosing candles at a shop. I spent some time there and then walked down the slope where I usually gawk at pretty balconies, all dressed up for Diwali. I was just ambling along and two cops on a bike pulled up near me. I don't think they were the same cops I had seen at the Basilica. One of them asked me why I was walking and whether I had a problem. I told him the weather was good and I usually go to the Basilica twice or thrice a week. (I was surprised at the 'Do you have a problem question', though. It wasn't late at all.) The cop then said that I looked like my foot was hurt. He asked me if I needed an auto. It actually is a little difficult to get an auto from there at times. So I said yes, even though I really could have walked down to the main road. He then hailed me one and asked me if I had cash to get home. I found that quite sweet. I said

 Some pictures from a walk there. 

 I think I am just done with this year. There's no telling what the next year will bring but I am feeling exhausted.  I have a report to do by tomorrow and there are humungous amounts of meetings. Only thing I am looking forward to is meeting my father after weeks.  It is exhausting. Really want a break. 

 Last night I went for a short ride on Roma with V. We ate dosa and he dropped me home. I bought milk and unwilling to head home, I took a rick to Mount Mary's. It was pretty as usual. I love Mother Mary's statue there. Her face is so serene, innocent, and peaceful. It's not the fragile peace of someone who always had it good. It's the sturdy peace of someone who has seen calm in the face after peeling back pain.  I went to buy a candle. Was thinking of getting a pink one. But a  charming little girl at the stall smiled and told me to take a lavender one instead. So I did. You can't really light candles at the Basilica anymore. You have to deposit them in a box in front of the statue. So I did that and was standing around, just watching the area. It is the most lusciously peaceful place in the world, for me.  A couple came. They seemed to be out of towners. The man wore a striped t-shirt and corduroy pants. The woman with him had her hair up in a bouffant, kohled ey

 I have a maalishwaali who I will call Shobha. That's not her real name. I engaged her because she is much cheaper than the lady who I got through Urban Clap. (The Urban Clap lady was delectable though. Her hands had the feel of weighted satin.) Since I like massages - A LOT- I had to switch to an option where I don't have to choose between groceries and massage if I want to get one twice or thrice a week.  But Shobha is really interesting. She is from Alibag and often tells me about her house there, a jackfruit tree that has grown so large that it houses a family of mongoose, and how her neighbour bartered nutmeg for chowmein noodles, etc. Ideally I like it if people don't talk when they are massaging me (which is where Urban Clap scores). But if they are talking, they must be engaging. Which Shobha is, in spades.  Shobha sometimes comes during dusk. She wears interesting flowers in her hair, nice gold jewellery, some type of a crepe saree, and carries a bag with fuzzy pol

 1.) Met a friend for a cup of chai late evening. We then walked to Mount Mary's. It was so beautiful at the Basilica. 2.) Friend told me about an art festival in Goa next year. It sounds like a lot of fun. Something to plan and look forward to. I really like Arambol. 3.) Spoke to another friend after ages. I will hopefully see her sometime next month. 4.) I saw such a cute Alsation pup peeping outside a car, looking mighty pleased with himself. A cop approached the car to ask it to move or something. Ended up scratching the puppy's ears instead. Both looked happy. 5.) A client sent me a hand-designed hand-painted scarf. It's gorgeous. I will team it with a grey shirt and tights tomorrow. Tomorrow's outfit sorted out. Good!

 I don't know if I have become too sensitive or thin-skinned but I seem to be getting affected by a whole lot of things. The way somebody talks or sits or stands or breathes. Or advises or fails to advise or gets involved or doesn't get involved. It is really a very weird feeling. I think that physically, somewhere in my stomach, there is a tissue or blood vessel or something that glows and throbs with human interaction. I am pretty sure that if I get scanned, one might find that. This is quite an inconvenience. It really wrecks my off time and then getting to work is tough.  There should be some system where you remove the most tender part of you every morning and wrap it up in velvet and butter paper. Then go about your day. You meet people, friends, relatives... listen to unsolicited advice, criticism, etc. But you are not affected. All the verbal load from people passes through you. Then at the end of the day, you open your locker where your tenderest part has been resting

 V came over today after ages. It was good but now that he has a bike, I guess I had wanted another ride on that beautiful beast of his. It seemed a little rude and greedy to ask. He did get me phirni, which was nice. Now I am thinking if there ever could be a situation where I could go on a ride on Roma eating phirni. That would be the best. Just need to keep reminding myself that it's not my bike. And it belongs to a rather moody person with first-world problems. Anyway, let's see when the next ride happens. Tomorrow I am looking forward to shifting furniture, doing laundry, buying veggies and hopefully going to a tailor.  Maybe some street shopping because I may have to drop into office later this week. Won't buy clothes but maybe a piece of chunky jewelry would be nice.  And maybe get my hair washed in a salon.  I guess I will just pick the non-chore tasks and feel guilty at leisure.

 Last night, V took me for a ride on his new bike. It's a really good looking bike. Looks like a mythical bird that you can expect to see on roads slick with fresh rain, with city lights melting like candied syrup in puddles.  I usually don't like sitting on bikes, especially the big ones that guys ride. (I used to love my friend's Vespa.) But this one was really comfortable. In fact, under a full moon and coasting away near Bandstand, I almost dozed off. How shall I put it...it was very comforting. Even though V took me for a spin during peak traffic time in Bandra, the noise felt all muffled and silent. I don't know if going on a ride helps anyone imagine something different...but there was a spot when I thought I saw snowflakes fall gently on park benches and street lamps turn into large, ebony column candles and the slopes having grassy little rivulets flowing by the side. Since he and I don't see eye to eye on so many things, I didn't ask him if he had name

 I feel really tired and just overall pointless today. Ordered a bunch of stuff from Swiggy and I could totally see how it was to fill a void. But did it anyway.  Had this feeling a month ago or so...that life doesn't feel 'lubricated' enough. It feels rough and difficult and getting through the days just feels like it is stinging and leaves one feeling raw and sensitive and tender. Like an open wound. It will be good to just wind down for the rest of the year. Maybe the rest of this decade. And do nothing.  I lost my aunt. Remember her fondly. She had a beautiful home and the sweetest voice. Now my father has no siblings left. Was just wondering what that must feel like. I find my brother exceedingly irritating. But if I lose my dad, then he is the only bookmark I have of my parents, so to speak. Even now, even when he annoys me so much, sometimes in the way he smiles or eats manchow soup or sleeps, I see my mom in him. What happens when it all goes away or ends?  Of cours

 Papa got me a very beautiful white and red saree for Dassera.  I was quite overwhelmed. Had started feeling very fragile and tense since a few weeks ago. Had a massive bodyache the night before. Had visited a friend's house for Navami. It was nice. I stayed over and the next day got a really lush massage from Urban Clap. But my energy was so low. I went to Vashi, almost trembling with so much anxiety that as soon as I reached and saw my father, I had a meltdown. I wonder why that is...I feel like he has become so fragile that I want to protect him from everything. And then I feel helpless that I can't. And I get pissed off with myself and then get short with him only. It is so twisted. We have some new neighbours who are really inconsiderate. And...well...it is what it is. This business of not being able to handle one's love for someone can be quite a painful task. So easily it can veer towards wanting control. I don't think being or staying easy with this is going to

 Is that after a week, the first day of a weekend is tough for me. I get a heavy head, bad stomach upset, fever, etc. Then the next day I spend recovering and before I know it, the work week begins.  Something feels a little off.  Must sort this out. 

 There was a video of Gauri Khan weeping because her son was denied bail. The comments passed some snide remarks about Shah Rukh Khan being a bad father, Bollywood being a sleaze fest, etc. Nothing new. But the comments on Gauri were what seemed strange... comments on her face, how her fillers and Botox are not working anymore, her bag, her shirt, her jeans. Basically, everything about the way she looked. The way SHE LOOKED. And she is not an actress. Her husband is. And he was being criticised for seemingly more relevant aspects - like parenting style, etc. She wasn't. At the time that I went through those comments (there were lots and lots of them), her biggest mistake seemed to have been that she looks old.  On a rather unrelated note... I am a writer. I am not required to be seen to be read. Yet I am. I also get a lot of advice from men on how to bring back glow to my skin or remove dark circles, etc. All advice is unsolicited. The other day, I came across an H&M jacket. I

 I am feeling a little nauseous today. Went for a rickshaw ride after a workout. The world just felt very sinlike...all smokes and mirrors. And it felt as if everybody's faces were gnawed flesh and the more their faces were rotting, the brighter their masks were. I cannot explain this...but I feel a certain hollowness in my soul...that we are collectively scraping the bottom of a barrel.  I don't like this mood. Don't like it at all. So I will write about a couple of cheery things. There was once a sweet little buttercup called Maafi. It grew by a school that was so dilapidated that children came there to play with snakes. Maafi had a ton of friends. Children loved the little buttercup because of its bright yellow petals and its shy and stubborn hope with which it bloomed everyday. When the snakes were put to race, Maafi would be at the very end of the stretch, swaying like a cheerleader who also doubled up as a finish line. One day, out of nowhere, the world started frosti