pune, c. July 16, 2016
Smell
It has been raining in this city for the last fortnight and the incessant pouring has ceased, held itself back for the last four three days. The weather-girl at a national daily says it's because of the lack of any systems in the Arabian Sea, but I know, for once I am sure I know it's because the impregnated clouds want us to pause and awaken our senses to the growing foliage around us.
The smell of wet trees, the whiff of ferns, the sight of fallen flowers, the undergrowth on garbage, on the rusty cycles by the forlorn bus-stand, the leafage that accumulated on staircases of buildings, the wetness in the pages of my diaries, the sogginess in my ironed socks, the moisture-laced sides of the book I got home delivered just the day before. The living world is germinating, from all shoots, herbs, and corners of the listless city.
I sat this noon by the window and watched movies on my laptop. One after the other, wondering if one could get a volatile high drinking endless amount of tea while watching movies. It's not everyday that I find myself in the balmy company of movies and tea.
I did pick up the newspaper from my doorstep this noon, but I chose not to read it. Confined myself to the seven walls of this beautiful rented apartment where I've been living for the past seven months. I drank copious amounts of tea, watched movies and made studious notes. How these notes will help me, I have not a clue but the process was beautiful.
It's close to seven now and daylight is about to simmer away, so I will move my butt and switch on the light. Wait for that friend who has promised to visit me with samosas and bhutta. I will make some more tea and we will eat crisp lijjat papad while talking about office politics.