Well well well, what could have enticed me to return from my self-imposed exile and embark on a new and much unanticipated blog post ? Is it a bird ? Is it a plane ? Or is it superman ? While certain melodramatic characters out there would undoubtedly be fascinated by the rescue of an obscure blogger from the clutches of despondency and callousness by a superhuman wearing red undies (v.i.p or rupa I wonder) over some skin tight leggings, the truth may disappoint them just enough to extract a grunt of dissatisfaction or a sigh of resentment for hoping against hope hopeth that I may contribute something worth their while for the first time in a long time (read ever).
So now that my lengthy and seemingly irrelevant prologue has gotten rid of all the riff-raff who managed to make it thus far, let me dive into the ominous secrets behind my resurgence, the aroma of halwa during the fifth month of the Hindu calendar or the first month of the monsoons, however you wish to interpret it.
Now if you really have made it this far, you are undoubtedly curious about the circumstances of this post. First let me describe my state of mind. It is early on a Monday morning (2:30 AM to be precise), I have to wake up to go to work in exactly three hours but before that I will permit myself to exist in a state of drunken stupor facilitated by easy accessibility to some not so cheap rum. The simple pleasures of moving up in life. Yes, yes my friends, I hear you exclaiming "Who is she !", "Tell us about her !", "How did you meet !", so without further ado let me get down to it.
She is the air that I breathe, the sword in my sheath, she is the one of whom I must speak, alas my icy insides have sprung a leak. Yikes ! That was terrible......long way to go I have.
Believe it or not, we have been aware of each other's existence for 9 years. She claims 12 and I believe her since she has irrefutable evidence, but for now lets stick to my version of it. The first time we met was no different from the second time, the third time or the fourth time we met. "Hi, who are you, how are you, I'm fine thanks, how do you do". But the fifth time was different. Lets just say that we were walking parallel paths but never realized that one day our paths would cross and we wouldn't be able to stop in time to avoid colliding head on with each other. A subtle collision. As we celebrated a near and dear friend's union with the love of her life, an invisible thread entwined itself around us. Dim as I usually am, I was very aware that something had happened, just couldn't put my finger on it. We talked, danced, drank and laughed the night away. We also goofed around with the most big assed kadhai I have ever seen and the code word 'jello' etched itself into my brain, the magic code that meant so little but promised so much. Like all beautiful nights, this one faded away and as dawn approached, I asked myself this question "Should I drop the raisin ?". Luckily I didn't and the only damage done was a twinge of sadness as we parted, never to know if this had been the night when it all started.
I thought about her, that day and the next, I wondered for a long time, should I drop her a text ? Again the raisin in me said 'no', you must take it easy and take it slow. But she had other ideas, she had other plans, at some level deep down, we were both in a trance. We started talking, my day her night, her day my night. Yes of course, it had to start that way. We glimpsed happiness, and always had our say.
Her in a million words I could never describe, so simple, so genuine and so very alive.
So that's it my friends, just someone about who I care, something that I don't want to share. Why today, what prompts me now, you ask. It's just happiness, not mine not hers, it's ours. The aroma of halwa, made her day yesterday. With her voice she can take a million, nay a billion breaths away. I can go on and on but now I must retire, with so little sleep I'll soon be in straits very dire. Someday when she reads this I wonder what she will say. I know what I will, "Is you is or is you ain't my babay"
So now that my lengthy and seemingly irrelevant prologue has gotten rid of all the riff-raff who managed to make it thus far, let me dive into the ominous secrets behind my resurgence, the aroma of halwa during the fifth month of the Hindu calendar or the first month of the monsoons, however you wish to interpret it.
Now if you really have made it this far, you are undoubtedly curious about the circumstances of this post. First let me describe my state of mind. It is early on a Monday morning (2:30 AM to be precise), I have to wake up to go to work in exactly three hours but before that I will permit myself to exist in a state of drunken stupor facilitated by easy accessibility to some not so cheap rum. The simple pleasures of moving up in life. Yes, yes my friends, I hear you exclaiming "Who is she !", "Tell us about her !", "How did you meet !", so without further ado let me get down to it.
She is the air that I breathe, the sword in my sheath, she is the one of whom I must speak, alas my icy insides have sprung a leak. Yikes ! That was terrible......long way to go I have.
Believe it or not, we have been aware of each other's existence for 9 years. She claims 12 and I believe her since she has irrefutable evidence, but for now lets stick to my version of it. The first time we met was no different from the second time, the third time or the fourth time we met. "Hi, who are you, how are you, I'm fine thanks, how do you do". But the fifth time was different. Lets just say that we were walking parallel paths but never realized that one day our paths would cross and we wouldn't be able to stop in time to avoid colliding head on with each other. A subtle collision. As we celebrated a near and dear friend's union with the love of her life, an invisible thread entwined itself around us. Dim as I usually am, I was very aware that something had happened, just couldn't put my finger on it. We talked, danced, drank and laughed the night away. We also goofed around with the most big assed kadhai I have ever seen and the code word 'jello' etched itself into my brain, the magic code that meant so little but promised so much. Like all beautiful nights, this one faded away and as dawn approached, I asked myself this question "Should I drop the raisin ?". Luckily I didn't and the only damage done was a twinge of sadness as we parted, never to know if this had been the night when it all started.
I thought about her, that day and the next, I wondered for a long time, should I drop her a text ? Again the raisin in me said 'no', you must take it easy and take it slow. But she had other ideas, she had other plans, at some level deep down, we were both in a trance. We started talking, my day her night, her day my night. Yes of course, it had to start that way. We glimpsed happiness, and always had our say.
Her in a million words I could never describe, so simple, so genuine and so very alive.
So that's it my friends, just someone about who I care, something that I don't want to share. Why today, what prompts me now, you ask. It's just happiness, not mine not hers, it's ours. The aroma of halwa, made her day yesterday. With her voice she can take a million, nay a billion breaths away. I can go on and on but now I must retire, with so little sleep I'll soon be in straits very dire. Someday when she reads this I wonder what she will say. I know what I will, "Is you is or is you ain't my babay"
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