Waking up to foggy mornings
Like waking up in the clouds.
The misty smell makes me feel alive
The dew drops on the leaves are a sight for the eyes.
Everything is partially visible
like the paths of my life.
My fingers are numb from the cold
I can hardly taste anything on ma tongue.
I love making fog circles – like smoking out every doubt inside
The chilling breeze has numb my brain
And my thoughts dance without music in my brain.
Every year I come down to this core,
To wake up to the misty mornings, once more.
I knew there would be drama involved in my trip to India-after all; India is the land of drama (besides being the land of kamasutra that is). But what I didn’t know was that the drama would start during my travel itself. My disappointment came to surface when I reached the airport and I saw a huge line of brown people on my flight. FML was what came to my mind. I had carefully articulated the facts that this flight would have less brown passengers as compared to the others. My reasoning was very logical and calculated. I was hopelessly wrong with my assumptions and I knew I had no other option but to think positive. It can’t be that bad-I thought to myself.
I don’t like flying with a plane full of brown people because most of them are loud and disrespectful to other people’s space. I say this coz I have many in-flight stories and they all involve disturbances caused by brown people. Like for instance, last time when I was flying to India (like that’s a surprise!) an old woman (around 70) got up after dinner (when the lights were dimmed down) and took her pillow and threw it in the aisle and then she lay flat in the middle of the aisle-trying to take a nap. I got the shock of my life when I saw this- OMG OMG OMG!. I woke up sister to show her the sight. I was sitting two seats behind on the aisle side watching all this drama unfold. Later the FA (Flight Attendant) came and took care of the situation. Thank god! I went first class for the rest of the trip coz I don’t think I could have handled any more shock for one flight.
On a similar flight this one time there was a Sardar with a turban sitting in the middle row. After few hours of flying time he removed his turban and put it aside. Just like that he removed his turban amidst of all the people and didn’t bother putting anything else or fixing his sunflower shaped hair. How disrespectful is that to the other person’s space? Being comfortable is one thing but making others uncomfortable is another.
See I wasn’t lying when I said these things always happen in my flights. This time when I was coming home there was this one annoying kid (about 2-3yrs old) sitting 3 seats in front of me. There were more than 12 kids on the flight but I didn’t hear anyone else except this one. She was throwing tantrums and shrieking nonstop-seriously!. After few hours of trying to divert my attention when it was time to take a nap, and I tried really really hard to ignore that kid but I couldn’t- I had a THAT’S IT moment. I buzzed for an FA.
Me to the FA: “Could you ask that woman to quiet her kid. It’s highly annoying”.
FA: “It’s hard to say that ma’am. It’s a little difficult to travel with kids”.
ME: “There are more then 10 kids on this plane. Do u hear anyone else? And this kid is not an infant or a toddler (trust me, I’ll be understanding then) this is a 3 year old who needs disciple”.
FA: “I’ll try to do whatever I can ma’am”.
ME: “Thank you very much’.
I see the FA go to the lady and say something to her and since then for the rest of the flight I did not hear even a squeak from that kid. My sis who was traveling with me rolled her eyes for I had given her the look of ‘And that’s how its done!’ I was so glad that the attendant talked to the lady coz I was this close to go myself and give her a piece of my mind. If you can’t discipline your kids don’t bring them to this world to annoy other people coz it’s not the kid that is being blamed for but you and your upbringing.
All this drama before I touch India. Imagine what is in store for me while I am there.
More to come…
Its time again for the rains, the monsoon rains. What is it that I love so much about the rains, I am not sure. Is it the rhythm of the rain drops falling on the surface, the smell of the wet soil, the clean up of the dirt on the roads, the urge to drink a nice cuppa tea, the different sounds the rain bring in different corners of the house, the breeze, the visit of the unwanted species that crawl their way through and about, the darkness that invades the house, the conversations of the clouds or the stillness of the time. No, I say to myself. There is more to why I love rains. Yes there is. I go back to deliberating on a lazy July afternoon accompanied with my favourite cuppa earl grey. Its funny how this tea is always around when am giving something a thought. I smile to myself, looking at my mug, ‘you my friend are my partner in sin’. Yes that’s what earl grey does to me. It makes me think. I have a habit of drifting from one topic to another in my thoughts; I believe it’s a psychological process to keep me sane.
Coming back to the topic of rains…ahhhh! I say to myself. Rains! I know why I love them. They bring thousand emotions with them. There are days when they make you feel oh so romantic and then there are days when you feel completely blue. They can take you to the highest of your highs and lowest of your lows. They can make you dance with them in a funny circular motion and they can make you believe, you’re truly alive. There are days when you reach out to touch the raindrops and you smile when they melt in your palms, MAGIC you think! They make you wanna go out for a long drive or hang out with loved ones or they can make you sit by the window and reflect on your life. Whatever the rain makes you wanna do in the end they do bring with them abundant emotions. Every time it rains, someone is in love, someone is lonely, someone is blue, someone is in a complete bliss, someone is crying with the sky and someone is raising his arms to thank god for the downpour. Everyone has a different reason. Everyone has a unique emotion.
As I write this I realize it’s a beautiful bright sunny day and I am thinking of the rain. Oh! How I wish it would rain today.
I’ve always hated Indian railway stations. Every time I have to take the train (which is always when all other options are opted out) I suffer anxiety, panic attacks, suffocation, sweating, and my pulse rate, heartbeat and breathing pattern becomes irregular.
Its not just one particular station; its every station located anywhere in India. Every station has a peculiar smell. People gathered under the radius of the slow curling fans, tea stalls selling fried delicacies, overcrowded benches with mostly women and children while all the men are usually found leaning on the edge of the platform looking for the train (as if that will bring the train any faster), a miniature shop selling magazines, someone’s radio playing (old classics, cricket commentary or latest cabaret songs) people swaying handkerchiefs and dupattas due to hot weather, non-stop announcements of change of platforms, stray dogs looking for some shade, coolies loaded with luggage brisk walking their way ahead of their luggage owners, and how can I forget the beggars on the platform.
When I have to travel by train I always reach the station on time so that I don’t have to wait and I never go without an escort (who drops me off to my seat)…yes am that meticulous about it. The minute I get to my seat I just want the train to start the journey so that I can get some peace. Other thing I can’t stand is once the train is in motion people lean over the gates of the train. I can’t see that and I don’t allow anyone to do that (if someone is travelling with me). I understand its quite a site to see the train when it turns but still its no logic to risk your life standing there. Neither do I like people to get out of the train to fetch something when it stops at a remote station. I actually time them as if we all are in some marathon.
Going to the station will always send a shiver to my spine any given day. Ironically, I do enjoy the journey and I prefer taking the train to a domestic flight because I do feel it’s the real way to travel. It’s just getting to and from the train that is the dreadful part. I have tried many ways to calm myself before going to the station but all fails the minute I step in the railway station and see the crowd. I guess this is something I have to live with for the rest of my life. And no I won’t stop travelling by train ever. Heaven help me!
It’s fascinating what Pythagorean Theorem can prove. Unlike the trigonometry or probability, I can actually use Pythagorean Theorem in my daily life to prove just about anything. For example I can prove that I am nocturnal with the help of this theorem. Yeah, I knew you wouldn’t believe me…Typical!
Pythagorean Theorem states: a2 + b2 = c2
a = coffee
b = extraordinary circadian rhythm (internal clock)
c = the subject being nocturnal
Allocating the values in the theorem:
2 cups of Coffee after 4pm + special internal clock = creature of the night
Hence, it’s proved that I am a nocturnal creature.
* Contests by coffee companies, irresistible books, social networking sites, endless chats, late nite movies and booze were not taken into consideration.