Archive for March, 2009

Summertime siestas

tree2

There is something about these summer afternoon siestas. The way they make me feel in a short while even an overnight sleep cannot do. They are just the right interlude in the middle of a hectic day full of rituals. Rituals of running a household that sometimes takes over the nuances of having a home. When the day has been about vacuuming the carpets, feeding the babies and doing multiple rounds of laundry, the romance of it all seems to evaporate from a window you never even knew existed. An afternoon nap comes as a welcome break and brings along just the right amount of dreaminess on a normal day. It keeps you going for the rest of the day with that touch of romance. Yes…romance in the classic sense of the term. A feeling that makes you see things differently. It makes the otherwise ordinary things communicate a bit more than usual.

The plant in the balcony of my home smiles and greets me as I look at it and soak the green in it. My steaming cup of tea tastes better than usual… each flavor of the handpicked, dried ,freshly brewed leaves make their way through my taste buds straight into the heart tingling my senses and leaving me with this overall sense of well being. The noisy household reflects the joy of people living in it… the sound of ’mama’ for the 51st time on that day sounds sweeter than all the previous ones. My eyes hover around a bit longer than usual appreciating the details of that painting on the wall of my living room and the beauty of the handmade card by my daughter. As I appreciate the simplicity of it all, the imperfectness does not bother me anymore. The undone stitches on the cushions, the even layer of dust on the TV screen, the chipped paint on the wall do not bug me today. The way they did the other day. Either I look away or fetch that duster and make the screen sparkle. I only do what needs to be done and do not let anything take me away from this wholesome feeling that has set in.

I find the touch of imperfectness making my household more real, more livable. It is helping the house become a home. Emotions like anxiousness, paranoia, impatience, and restlessness promptly take a backseat for a while. Life passes around a bit slower than usual and my mind tries to catch up with its rhythm. Solutions that were always there become clearer. I can see the layer coming off things.

And yes, an afternoon nap also makes me remember a million nice things. The roses he got for me when I was least expecting them .My daughter’s first on stage performance at school. The bed tea he got. The re filled glass of wine just at the right time. The dark chocolate being slid into my mouth just when I contemplate heading towards the fridge. The first smile of my son in the morning. The sparkle in his eyes when I enter the house. His first tentative steps. The images reel through my head and make me beam with this plump feeling of touching the lives of my favourite people in a way only I can. The enormity of helping them make memories for a lifetime overwhelms me.

Well, as I reach the end of my slew of thoughts on a summer afternoon, I can’t help but notice the clarity in them. The clarity of it all. I just had an afternoon siesta after a long time and found myself full of rustling thoughts. The setting is almost perfect. I’m sitting in the balcony of my home overlooking the skyscrapers with a hint of the sea in between and enjoying being in my favorite state of mind. Reflective.

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Magic

 Clouds

 

You remind me of ‘Puck’ from Shakepeare’s ‘As you like it’. He is this imp with a perpetual mischievous, inscrutable grin. He has a mind that wanders into unknown realms and at the same time stays in touch with the moment. A menacing mind that is always up to menace. He lives in his thoughts.And most of them are so far away from reality that their distance reflects in his eyes. His eyes are like yours, like tranquil glass of white wine with an occasional sparkle ebbing at the surface. Eyes that are very deceptive… trying hard to conceal what lies beyond that brimming surface but then they do give in sometimes depending on who’s looking into them. They are the eyes of a dreamer…a lonely dreamer who blends in just to stand out.

I can almost see those steps that you gingerly take towards boyhood, looking for answers the books don’t seem to give ..wandering and exploring. The lines on your forehead curve to make an almost perfect frown as you explore astutely. You find things that you don’t like and then the things that you had dreamt of…you walk along collecting your clumsy self…picking up your color pencils and doodled scraps of paper…humming beatles and blowing out the dense smoke. Smoke that has almost acquired the rounded taste of your lungs. The taste that grows on you and keeps you going.

Time goes by..you walk you fall you walk again and then all of an acid sudden, you see things and reach the lands that even your dreams didn’t take you to or probably had stopped taking you to. You get excited, almost in awe as the anxiety builds up. You come closer, take an intimate look…you touch them till you feel them running thru your veins…and then it happens. The magic. It happens at that moment and takes you away to a distant plane where the chill of the breeze and warmth of the sun blend miraculously and spread all over your skin almost like the centre of the cheese toast in your mouth. And you feel a feeling like never before… You glow with radiance, so brilliant that a few rays almost touch me as I look at you from a distance…. I too look lost in a far away land with a distant look in my eyes. I too feel the cheese toast melting in my mouth and taste the rounded flavour of your smoke. I too feel a feeling like never before. I look at you and I look at me and I wonder. I wonder if it’s the same insidious moment that we are caught in…the moment that they call ‘magic’

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