16th September:
Heavens were falling, the rain gods irascible. It thundered, only this was not a no-man land but our very ol’ concrete jungle of pot holes and traffic jams. It was only last Friday that I had lived through a nightmare and my bravery was not rewarded beyond Ashram where I took a U turn and headed back to a work from home. I had no sadistic overtone to suggest that I would even fathom inflicting myself with the pain.
Windows lend a story book charm to our lives. Looking out of mine, I could see the verdant trees, smell the dampness, hear the thunder and feel , just feel! It’s good to have moments through the day where even if it is for some fleeting seconds one can connect with oneself, it just sets a rhythm to our breathing for the day. They say if you can control your breathing you can control the way you feel, perhaps for me it lasted more than 48 hrs.
A productive day at work must be rewarded. A Friday celebrated.
Rina Dhaka and Rocky S fashion show. Red painted nails and batting eyelids. Don’t mistake me for the fashion fraternity but am agreeable to it occasionally, much like a family wedding. Yes, the sentiments are pretty similar you spend long hours preparing for it and last crisply. Interestingly you don’t’ complain. To me the show was about anorexic women, champu men, sponsors, free loaders, non-buyers! The tag of designer label seems to have diminshed, the era of models passé. Of course there will be individual shows with great elan and in their usual pomp and flair but until then its good to give them a miss. The first glass of wine was needed and I glugged it only the second glass wouldn’t go down my gullet. It was time for my sister and I to treat ourselves to some chettinad, hot, spicy, rooted food. It was not by design but Swagath was one amongst the fewer restaurants we could have a meal at 1130pm. Of course we couldn’t move much but make it home and plonk ourselves to sleep.
17th September
Its got nothing to do with my community! Its got nothing to do with my DNA.. but it was 12 exact 12. An amusing start. It has been forever that I slept for 10 hours straight. No phone (battery died), no maids, no wake up its 730, what time do u need to reach work?, no here is your tea, no where are the car keys? No licks on my face. No nobody, no no-one.
This evening we kick off Experience Delhi. There is a concert at American Center by Carrie Newcomer, a Grammy award winning singer accompanied by Gary Walters Pianist and Jim Brock Percussionist. When you share itinerary there is credibility at stake, you need to own it and I could feel the pressure of hoping it would be nice. It was gone by the time I got into the car. It snapped out. I was excited. I was setting out for something I genuinely wanted to do, Experience Delhi, it wasn’t meant to be ExperienceD Delhi. The discomfort with ambiguity had vanished, especially when you are standing in a queue, in queue where you are not allowed to enter. Yes, I was 10 mins late, blame it on finding the venue and then a parking but then I was late none the less. I was living one end of the spectrum in Delhi. Punctuality, Queues, Security Checks and being escorted to an LCD for viewing as a consolation prize, a prize a friend didn’t get for entering 18 mins late. He had to turn back. No one can take the dilli-walla out of me. I was soon cajoling the hostess to allow me into the auditorium and she was gracious enough to relent. Carrie was soulful, her lyrics meaningful and well when she spoke ahem I knew she could dirty talk. For me Jim was the STAR , brilliant he just blew me away with his talent. I wondered what it would be to think like him, to witness creation like him, to hear music in everything, to make music of everything!
The other spectrum awaited us. Bollywood, fashionably 3 hrs late, my name is on the guest list, can I make a call, oooo we love you, muah muah, large peg, treated hair and a jars of gel! Speedy Singhs event. Now that’s not what we were prepared for. It was Russell Peters whom we wanted to root for. Little did we know it was Gugi to Harbhanjan Singh and a lot of Punjab in the middle. I wonder if there is any correlation with the start of the day. Oh there was a star cast. Only I wasn’t sure they were stars! At least not until now. You can tell little these days. Song and dance, recitation of Russell Peters rib-ticklers, oh and some phone photography owing to which one of us got knocked down and out for a minute. Now is that not truly an experience for him and at his expense for us!
18th September:
Sunday lunch has to be big, if it’s not paranthas, it is butter chicken! If it not home, its dining out. Atleast that’s the reputation a Punjabi family enjoys and we lived up to it. Ideally a hot cup of tea and sprawling like a cat on my couch would have been an ideal follow through. Only if I had not wanted to see that girl in yellow boots. The movie left me numb. Unconventional theme, unorthodox portrayal, avant-garde artists, unaffected cinematography. Disturbing and dark. Very disturbing, very dark.
5 new pairs of shoes can make anyone feel better, try it! Shopping is the elixir..
