There’s something about bathroom tiles. I am not sure if it’s the smoothness of their texture (wiped clean once a week by my landlady’s very own baai) or the delightful violet colour of their form. But the moment I step into the shower and it begins to pour in torrents, the sleeping singer in me wakes up.
It so happened this morning that I got up bedraggled and in a weep-at-a-whistle kind of mood.
Once I had picked up the first clothes I could lay my hands on (I was in no mood to fuss over how green doesn’t go with blue for instance), I dragged my feet to the bathroom. Even your Bengali genes can’t come to the rescue today, I thought as I rubbed my eyes. Those years of learning music in junior school and being told off by the sweet little music-mistress when she learnt I wasn’t continuing – nah, all put to dust.
I generally get a playlist going as I get ready for office. “Lovely Mornings” it’s called, this assortment of beautiful love songs that I have got together. My laptop lay silent today, tucked away in the confines of the steel cupboard. I half attempted a go at “Bhage Re Mann…” – the Sunidhi Chauhan song from Chameli reminds me of moonlit nights, grey rimmed clouds and soft, melodious rain. But sadly, the usual studio-like-echo/shadow/whatever it’s called that the shower lends to my voice played hookey and I stopped.
A good fifteen minutes later, I turned off the shower and exclaimed at how late I was getting. As I blow dried my hair, stray strands of “Pehla Nasha, Pehla Khumaar…” came to my ears. It was probably the vada-pau wala outside my flat: the breakfast solution for scores of Pune-ikars in the area.
The song hasn’t left my lips yet.