The table was set.
The food was ready.
The wine was served.
The candles were lit.
And then we went out,
In search of the perfect night.
Something I wrote on the old blog. This picture reminded of it.Photo Credit: The talented designer & photographer Miemo Penttinen. A few months back, I had a chance to interview him forKyoorius and he was kind enough to give me permission to use this photo.
Yeah, so I am not really working but reading this scattered interview of Murakami that a friend posted on my wall last night! http://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2014/aug/24/haruki-murakami-my-lifetime-dream-is-to-be-sitting-at-the-bottom-of-a-well
It just got me thinking about co-incidences. I used to be really naive once upon a time when it came to things like believing in co-incidences and those godforsaken signs. And now looking back, I feel that while there truly were some strange coincidences especially in the context of this person I used to like for a lonnng time. But then, to be brutally rude to myself, I used to think about it so much that I probably did over-read into a lot of them.
Like this person randomly once told me, for the sake of pithy pity, that whatever happens he would see me that particular weekend. The weekend came, the alcohol effect subsided and we both more or less gave up on the idea. And then on Sunday, he appears right outside this exact window where I sat after exchanging seats with a friend twice to have a wholesome view of the crowded Turner Road in Bandra. And there he was. At that point in time, I genuinely believed that it was a sign. Sign of what, I don’t know. But a sign. But it wasn’t. It was just a fucked up coincidence!
I might be truly worldly now but I have to confess that I still find coincidences poetic. There have been zillions which have led to me unknown destinations and new friends. But I think they are simply that- coincidences. Not signs for anything to come. They just exist in the moments they occur in.
Okay, now I am definitely getting back to work.
Today, I finally got out of the house to work. Had to meet a friend later so stationed myself at Starbucks. I must say, after all that brouhaha over how only hipsters in India go to Starbucks, Starbucks is quite awesome. Great coffee. Brilliant fucking wi-fi. And let me not forget the group of super delicious three boys sitting right next to me.
Moving on, I didn’t know how much I loved my morning ritual of getting ready and getting out, till I left my last job. It didn’t even matter where I was going. I just loved it. The morning taxi ride, the radio, the whole freaking day out of home. To be simply cut off from the harmless but distracting monsters of the house.
I might still be a little distracted right now (blame the handsome hunks) but I am loving it. :) Okay okay, back to work now.
Just a little bit! <3
(Picture credit: deviantart.com, by someone called mixmasterangel)
I think I am going a little nuts over Weeds, all over fucking again, three years after I started watching it for the first time! And man, I am in love with Andy, predictably enough. And obsessed with Nancy’s crazies! It’s silly to compare (it’s not actually, on second thoughts) but I love how both of Jenji Kohan’s main heroines Nancy and Piper (Chapman from Orange is the New Black) have this unending urge to get themselves into stormy weathers. And they both are only at ease when they are completely, deliciously shrouded by troubles.
After a terribly boring long lull, I am back to the exciting squall, my safe place. Things are moving, in all directions, and I, of course, am completely loving it. It all started with two work trips first for freelance assignments and within a week I was zooming at a spectacular speed to two different parts of the country which soon collided with my much needed temporary Bombay comeback.
With rains, some wine, some crazy ass stories and gossip, some friends, some work, some ideas, some iced teas, some Bandra and some non-stop movement all around, Bombay hasn’t disappointed me. I have been splitting my stay between two friends’ houses. And living out of my red backpack, again. Having my much familiar temporary life.
The other day I was just joking with a friend, saying how for the next few years I will not ask for a retreat or a break or a feeling of being settled down. Oh god no. I can’t handle that. I realised only a moment later that I wasn’t joking. I was dead serious. This is where my home is right now. In my backpack. In the plastic bag where I am currently keeping my laundry. In my handbag. In my friends’ houses. In a newly discovered superb cafe where they have excellent bacon wrapped prawns and pancakes.
Even when I get my “own” house next, wherever I decide to stay (I have stopped thinking about that), that won’t be my home. I won’t put together “life” ever again. I will blatantly fantasize about collecting things and containing them and getting a sense of a contended life, with a glass of wine and gloomy music, but I will never ever want that. I will complain that I don’t have it. But I won’t want it. That fantasy and everything in between is where my home is.