anything for you.
I wish I could make you happier. I wish you would laugh with me, or at me, if you like. I wish to make you smile, not just at my witticisms and one-liners but at the world. A happy, happy smile. I would like to take you out for ice cream with toffee sauce in this gorgeous weather. I’ll pay, of course. Come, take my hand and lead me to your favourite store before it starts to pour again.
Please.
The dark grey skies are deceptive, I’ve been waiting all day for it to pour, for them clouds to split open and rain down on us. The sun has been hiding and the weather has been “nice” and “beautiful” and “gorgeous”. It is as cloudy as my brain and as depressing as grey can be if not teamed with something that makes you smile.
He was wearing a grey suit and had teamed it with a white shirt and silver and blue tie. That is how grey should be. He was in white and black, but the white had navy stripes and the tie, oh the tie was just perfect with deep blue, navy blue, silver and black diagonal stripes. Very few men wear the right ties. Very few days are cloudy and perfect.
The weather here seems to be reflecting your thought process. Stuffy and oppressive. Smoke after smoke, grey billowing in this room doesn’t help. It’s oily, it’s depressing and I cannot breathe freely. Circles, vicious, vicious circles make you dizzy. There is no air to breathe, there is no breeze, no wind. This room needs large french windows, for everyone’s survival.
The green, the blue, the white and black pale in comparison to the red. The red screams life and love and passion. Where is my red? Where is my red? The purple water bottles are old, the new ones are clear with pink caps. Pink annoys me, and it’s all your fault? You made me roll my eyes at pink. You and your hair flipping and pink lip glossing and pink accessorising.
I am tired. Oh so tired of this grey. So sick of this pink. So confused and so dizzy. Rain, for I need it to wash away everything. Purge this city of its sins. Rain and pour and storm all over this dead stifling city for it needs you. Needs you to stop posing for amateur photographers and horrid skyscapes. Just wash away this, this grey!
Will we ever leave?
Delhi is burning. We work in air conditioned buildings, breathing re-cycled air, sipping not-so-nice coffee and staring at our office laptops typing emails and creating documents and calling on people’s extensions. Delhi is burning and I am heading for a burn out. The phone rings constantly, the cell phone rings too, the emails don’t stop and it’s too hot to do anything over the weekend. It’s not like I didn’t try. I did. I lost it within an hour of being in CP (I had some work to do, I don’t usually step out at 1 pm on Saturdays when it’s 44 degrees out there) (Oh! Celsius).
Of course, I had to have Butterscotch milkshake from Keventer’s and a chicken patty from Wenger’s, it’s a tradition/ ritual of sorts when visiting CP. The milkshakes are to die for, they are Rs 25 for a big big bottle of whatever flavour you want and the chicken patty is now Rs 33 but it’s still the same chicken mince stuffing and this lovely golden brown… such much love! This consumption helped only with the energy burst… My face was bright red (thanks to the sun, sunscreen never works), I was finishing bottle after packaged bottle of water, and repeating anything stupid or funny being said by passers-by. The brother pushed me away from people and closer to shoes. I am proud to say that I finally bought something purple and red in the same day. I also picked up books… Murakami and Kureishi… Sigh.
Nothing can be done about this, this insane delayed-monsoon-crazy-angry-summer situation! We have fucked over nature so much that now we have to suffer… but was it really our fault? Why can’t nature punish the ones who fucked up? Why us? The air conditioner cannot be on all day right? Right? Gah! We are dehydrated… it feels like the onset of a hangover 24/7. What we need is a summer vacation. No, not annual leave. We should just stop functioning. Hibernate but in very cool, dark places. Heh.
Delhi is burning. I am working on the edge. Nowhere is safe anymore! Nothing is a respite anymore! I want to smile. I want to laugh. I want to not have nightmares about the stage collapsing at some event we are organising and being blamed for it! I don’t want Excel to be personified in my dreams as the bad guy! I want a pedicure and a manicure while sipping on JD and coke. I want to run back to the hills, rent a small place and stay there for a long long time. I want to come back here only when they promise me a good Delhi winter.
for the silences.
This is about all of us.
It’s about our loves and our friends… it’s about growing up and tiring of things… it’s about compromising so much that you refuse to compromise anymore. This is about you and me and you too. It’s about listening and not reacting. It’s about hurting but not complaining. It’s about surprises and laughter and moments of pure happiness that become memories holding us together. It’s about the etchings of picture perfect moments in our mind scape.
It’s about all of us and all of you and none of us, really.
I’ve probably grown to love you over the years… and you, me. You irritate me and I irritate you. Thank the lords we don’t have any plans of marital bliss. You tell me to loosen up, I tell you to take things seriously. You roll your eyes at my corporate whoring, I stop before I utter the hated term… terms? You will never understand my hours, my work and never ever respect what I do. How can you? Have I ever let you? I will shut up and listen and not say anything when you crib about too little time. I will never have enough time and curse my job, my existence, my inability to not care about the money. I will hate myself for being unable to follow my so called dreams. You will listen and soon tune out, not saying much. We are tied by the silences, you and I.
Your priorities and mine don’t match. Some of our time zones don’t match. We will congratulate each other and laugh and toast and make merry when we are together… but we all know it’s not the same. How can it be? We are different aren’t we? We are grown ups now… it’s difficult enough compromising, adjusting and managing families and then romantic relationships… we don’t need more to deal with. We don’t want to compromise, we don’t wish to adjust… short fuses… shorter tempers… oh so irritable and tired. Give me a drink and let us not listen to each other… just nod and smile. What you don’t say makes us work.
When you bite that tongue, you save us a fight… When I ignore your sarcasm and implications, I give us a few more months… till the next birthday. The wind howls mirroring the pain and the hurt… the rain pours down on us, washing our tears… we ignore the wind and our tears… these silences tie us together.
The past makes us listen when you need us to. We are there for each other. No matter what. We are grown ups now… we are our own people… we are struggling with our insecurities and self doubt. You are so much smarter. Prettier. You are more intelligent? You are your own wo/man. You imply it or I imagine it. I imply it or you imagine it. We exhale and sigh and make up excuses to cut short our conversations. We are our own people. We need our space. We are all going through a phase, simultaneously. We refuse to accommodate each other. I take stress, I am sick. You are sick, you can’t deal with all this. It’s inherent in my tone, implied in yours. We are tied, you and I, and we choose to remain silent. Choose to remain tied. It’s about hugs and telepathic conversations and unabashed laughter just when we had given up hope.
For the silence. The comfortable silence and the overlooked idiosyncrasies. For us.
Random thought #45
Me(!): The brain is dead.
Everyone(?!): Long live the grey slushy stuff.
If only…
