I Believe We Once Had a Sun

Well, I cannot be sure anymore. It has been over a month since I last saw it. This morning, I stood in the balcony with a cup of coffee and tried hard to ferret it out. I looked at this corner of the sky and that, squinted, even burnt one finger, but nope, no sun. The sky was lined with bad-weather clouds; thunder growled ominously in the distance. It is official: the golden glob over our heads is a thing of the past.

In this sun-less world, I barely get by. The laundry needs to be artificially dried, which means our dryer is perpetually on. Just one of the many perks of having a newborn in the house who looks his most content when he is pooping. After a long night of glorious sleep—give me a moment to do a deep-belly laugh here please—all I want to do is feel the sun on my skin. But all I get are raindrops. And dampness. And mosquitoes. And a general brooding sense of malaise.

When I was little, the rain fascinated me so. I would sit by the window and try to catch the raindrops. My raincoat was bright pink, and I looked forward to wearing it to school. If my school bus got stuck in the traffic, I could sing songs with my girlfriends for longer. My clothes were always dry. My Mom’s smile was my sunshine. How everything has changed!

“Don’t you care about the farmers at all? How will the crops grow if it doesn’t rain?”

Yes, I actually got that from someone recently. Someone whose definition of crops, I am pretty sure, is limited to the processed foods aisle in the supermarket. Chips are a crop. They use potatoes, don’t they?

“Too much rain can be as damaging as too little,” I told them.

They frowned. “You selfish people.”

Yes, okay, I am selfish. I cannot handle these sun-less days anymore. They get under my skin like a crawling, gnawing worm. I feel a kind of sadness that makes my outlook on everything appear bleak and meaningless. Back in Vienna, we would often have days like these in the winter, and I would spend my time chasing whatever little sunshine we did get. But in a manner I cannot fully explain, the lack of sunshine this year feels infinitely worse. It feels interminable.

Calvin & Hobbes

I have had it with the rain. Teleport me to the green, sunlit valleys that I am sure exist in some part of the world. I want to remain there alone and undisturbed and let the sun rejuvenate and repair me enough to face this terrible dreariness again. Or wait, maybe I will just remain. Hobbes is so right. Nothing quite compares to the contentment of a big sunny field to be in.

Advertisements

Unsettled

I woke up early this morning and sat upright in bed. I had woken with a start and felt extremely tired. Surely, it couldn’t be morning already! No light crept in from my ajar bedroom window; my phone lay silent. But it had to be morning for outside, about a dozen birdies chirped for all they were worth. In fact, they presented quite a rousing orchestra, punctuated by some shrill screeches and a few out-of-tune notes. I love birdsong, but just then, I wanted them to shut up and let me catch a few more minutes of sleep.

I inspected the alarm clock on my bedside table. Continue reading

Rain & Me: Old Friends Who Have Fallen Apart

Rain

There was a time, many moons ago, when I used to love the monsoon. My heart skipped a beat when it rained and my MP3 player hummed monsoonal tunes. I’d sit by the window as the rain washed the dust off my garden plants and watch everything enliven. I’d ask Granny to make onion pakoras, dip them in ketchup, and munch them with great delight.

Years have now passed since that time. Continue reading

The Shocking Red Soup

The other evening, I took home a Chicken Hot and Sour Soup. I have been suffering from a bad cold and cough lately, and Chicken Soup is extremely comforting. Mom would make it for me once, along with all the other hot foods in her collection – khichdi and kadha. I was thinking about her as I unpacked the soup and got ready to slurp. The soup was hot – and I don’t just mean the temperature – and it was delicious. But when I went to rinse my mouth later, a shock awaited me. My lips and tongue looked bloodshot. Continue reading

The Gawkers

Koregaon Park, Pune

I wonder he didn’t fall off his bike. He had stopped it an abrupt motion, and his pillion rider was also falling over in excitement. It didn’t matter that the two of them had on civil clothes and were riding an expensive-looking bike. It was not beneath them to gawk at the foreign girl walking on the pavement – shamelessly, if you please.

The two guys ran their eyes all over her, and, as she hurried past them, burst into guffaws and would-be cool jokes. They had met a foreigner that morning, thank you very much. A foreigner wearing jeans and a tee and carrying a bag of vegetables was naturally a bizarre sight, because, hey, Indian girls don’t do that! Continue reading

Winter In Pune

Mahabaleshwar near Pune

Mahabaleshwar, a hill station near Pune [www.tourindia365.com]

It actually is cold in Pune. I mean, my-fingers-are-numb kind of cold. After years of arguing with R about how Pune can never compete with Delhi in the winter department, it does seem like this quaint old city is up to the competition. No, I am not complaining. In fact, I am delighted. Continue reading

It’s Raining Tonight

image

*Picture from agfarson.wordpress.com

It’s raining in Pune. The night is still young but the skies look set for an all-nighter. The street lamps are glowing like fairy lights; they twinkle with every falling raindrop. The stars are all under cover but you can figure they are there somewhere, enjoying the sudden shower. The stars love anything that brings shine to the world – and takes the dust off leaves, pebbles and balcony railings. Continue reading