Serendipity of Nonsense

I love this time of the year because the air feels like silk over your skin. The wind still retains a little bite and the nights are perfect for long-winded stories, remembrances of a softer time. This time of the year has always been amazing, because there always was a book to be finished in the sweet sun gazing through the curtains, exams to be done away with and meeting friends again. There always was the first smell of mud and then of the spring lilies.  I remember my mother being good with plants. Putting down new roots, adding here, pruning there. Organic fertiliser, and lots of love. Chrysanthemums and snowballs, forget-me-nots and dahlias, gladioli and daisies. Home grown tomatoes and mint leaves, flat beans from the garden in the balcony. Fragrance in spring; sharp and piquant, mellow and soothing. Bursts of color amidst seas of green, celebrating life in the only way that mattered. Life turned brown for so long in between that I stopped looking for spring. The s...

The time of the day- one sunny irritating morning on a relatively late-to-work Friday. Yes, I am one those who have a bad face when I reach office, it's not the work; it's the morning.  The place it was- The Barista outlet across the road where I asked my auto-rickshaw guy to stop, paying him extra 30 bucks!  The characters involved- The Barista counter attendant (read: BCA) and yours truly, me.  Me: Hey! Morning! (See, i try to be chirpy despite the PMSing weather) I need a small strong coffee. Do you have anything smaller and stronger than your regular cappuccino or latte? BCA: Sorry ma'am, we don't serve small coffees. Although, our sizes of cappuccino is suited for one person.  Me: Yeah i know what size is your Cappuccino or for that matter even the Ethiopian. Tell you what, just give an espresso with a shot of milk on the side.   BCA: Espresso is plain black c...

I haven't written in a long time. Not on the blog nor on the paper towels. My learnt lessons are so interspersed and polarised that I can't find a way to put them down in writing; in an earnest manner. So I am going to rant about what I experienced, with a little hope that it provides a little insight to what the country taught me so far. It is not a conventional message. Eight months ago as I was getting prepared to engage in a few month-long development project in India, I was constantly getting startling reactions from concerned faces; not because of the difficulties that would naturally arise from being in the project, but because I was going to travel and city hop every week and spend my time in regions I have never set foot in. November was marked with red ink, I was supposed to be in Bihar for a fortnight. Remember that 'Akeli ladki..' dialogue courtesy Jab We Met; yes, that one! It was always implied, never told on face. I was told I wouldn't survi...

This morning I was in Delhi, now I am not. Tomorrow I won't be waking up to a radio alarm, an impromptu conversation with the colleague(who goes to work at 8! and calls me) and crying out for the morning coffee with my eyes still shut!    Wrapping up four months of work and life in a few boxes has been tough. And I am not going to mention how many boxes. Coming back to the prohibited state marks an end to my stint at Fashion Journalism. Rise for Two minutes of silence. Okay! It is time for something new again! Do i sound bored? Yes! Well, I have no answer to the "Whats next" question. My mom tried and then called quits. So bear with me. To tell you, I am a round the clock cribber. I cribbed of work. I whined of eleven hour schedules. I cried when had to go to work with a hangover. There was a moment when I cribbed on having to travel to Mumbai every week. I cried of not having enough time on hand. Not being able to meet my friends. Not being able t...