Of all the steamy days! (Tut tut...What are you thinking?)

It’s a hot day. Summer has washed over a brief and unprecedented pleasant patch. It makes its tiresome presence felt through the dry dust that now whirls around me. The garden looks thirsty, the plants are coated with dust. Workmen are pounding away at the ground, and at regular intervals they throw up wet mud. Little mounds of mud form the fence for a dirt track. Roots of the earth stick out at all directions below, exposed suddenly to the wrath of the sun.

 Inside, Pepper is sprawled on all fours under the sofa, resembling as usual a black carpet of velvet. It’s her afternoon siesta and she barks lazily from underneath every time someone opens the gate. The road is empty. A lone car passes by and then there’s silence again. There is no other sound. The trees look forlorn, the sky is still, the leaves are motionless, and there is no wind. If I whispered, my message would reach the roots of the earth.

It is one of those days when there is no motivation to move, work, smile even. You just observe the mundane and then write about all the images that your mind conjures up irrationally. You know that none will understand what you write, you probably don’t yourself. But it’s just one of those days. One of those days that is perfect to write under the shade of a terracotta roof with a glass of juice by your side. One of those days that is perfect to scribble anything that your mind throws up:  a sad thought here, a happy thought there. The heart burns with longing for those moments and every moment is connected to a day like this- dry, dusty, blazing and lethargic.

I think of lip gloss. The sheer sweetness of it makes me smile.

I think jokes made over bad pronunciations. Those really never fail to make you laugh. Unlike other jokes, the more you think about it and the more often you say it, the funnier it gets.  

 I think of a conversation about galaxies. That was one night, long long ago. Nothing to do with forlorn trees but such an enduring thought! It seems like it happened yesterday. The sheer randomness of it and the naivety of the rest that followed make me want to go back to that day.

 I think of petrol. The absurdity of its price and the way I flared up at an auto driver two days back when he tried to cheat me. Auto drivers ignite tempers like no one else can on days like these.  

 I think of cup-o-noodles. I think of one brand that I love- that we made every other day at hostel and slurped and relished every thread of it. And then I think of the brand that I do not like. Ugh. I remember boiling water on another such lazy afternoon, pouring it into the cup and tasting it. I grimaced and scolded and kept it back on the table till it turned cold. Cold enough to be thrown away. Food didn’t matter to me that day. That day was another beginning- a door to a storehouse of joyous memories.  

I remember sitting by the pavement of the beach. The beach is important in my life. It guards a chapter of my life, many chapters in fact, all close to my heart. The sands know my secret, the waves have heard my stories and rants. I also remember sitting on the beach-far away from the road and close to the water. I was getting baked in the May heat but I still sat there. I remember leaning forward and then backward and looking at the sea from all angles. Then I walked back in silence.

 I remember fishing for a painting and postcard from my jhola the day I sat on the pavement and I remember the joy of giving these. The smile and gratitude that followed and the unsure hug.  

I think of Udaan. What a brilliant movie that was! I remember the third time I watched it sprawled across the bed, growing a little bored as I saw the next scene before it came.  I drummed my fingers on the laptop, shifted here and there in boredom and then shut it down. Udaan meant something else.

I remember pictures of smiling people. One on a wall to my right, the other to my left and the last next to my ear. They were all witnesses, encased in frames like the memory of that day is encased in my head. I realised their presence only later, what a fright I got!

I remember sitting in class and pretending to take notes. Shutting out voices and listening to the ones in my head. I secretly had my phone on my lap. Texting everyone to entertain me, free me from the torturous lecture.

I remember the Madhavan movie. I’ve forgotten what it was called. I also remember the old man by my side- his stern face for some reason etched in my memory. I remember the large eyes and I remember nibbling fingers. What yummy popcorn that was!

I remember the evening when I suddenly discovered something small and beautiful in my pocket. I love those days when you discover things in your pocket, even if it’s just a 5 rupee note. I have it tucked away somewhere, safe from prying and judgemental eyes.

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My mind races on and there are many more. But the one that saddens me the most is that evening when I turned my head to say good bye at the beach. I was given assurance of a wonderful future and was given the nod- not grudgingly but willingly and happily. I was ordered and not merely told to hold on. I’ll never forget that day not because of the words but the person who said them- my beanstalk and best friend.

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I have successfully confounded you, patient reader. In my defence, I warned you in the beginning. The heat lingers on and the memories make my head both a pleasant place and a distressed one. I no longer know what I’m saying. Tata.