night

Summer Nights

There is this thing about summer nights, a nostalgia that doesn’t fade, be it months or years or even decades.

I remember the nights I spent at my Nani’s place, lying in the cot on the night under a starry sky, the rings of the mortein coil rising to the sky while the pomeranian who slept below my cot snored lightly.

I remember the nights at my Dadi’s house, when there wasn’t even a cot to lie on, just a hard plastic mat and sometimes it used to get so cold in May that we used to bring out the blankets from the trunk on the terrace.

It was an altogether different feeling, waking up to sunshine on your face and once in a while, to rains, when you had to wake up and rush inside, taking your bedding and covers along.

I remember the nights at my house in Lucknow. It didn’t happen often but when it did, I was surprisingly glad. No electricity meant darkness, which meant freedom, to go to the terrace, in the middle of the night or outside, to exchange some notes with people you couldn’t meet otherwise.

Summer,

A love hate relationship with you has given me memories which are equally bittersweet. There were power cuts all the time, but anything beyond the mundane life was welcome. It seemed like life got even more monotonous during your time. It was the same day lived, over and over again, specially during the vacations which we craved ย for but within 10 days, got bored of.

Now, there is watermelon in the evening, followed by finally switching off the A.C., when Maa came rushing in to tell us to get some fresh air. We reluctantly go to the rooftop and listen to some music until it is dark and the mosquitoes attack. And then we go back to our artificially created atmosphere.

I do miss you, it is true. I miss the feel of heat on my skin when I came back from school, craving a chilled glass of sherbet. I miss sitting on the staircase playing cards with my cousins because we couldn’t watch TV. Most of all, I miss the darkness of the night, where everyone gathered around together, because they had no screens to look at, no instruments to distract them, and we could just be there, in the moment, waiting for the light to come back and at the same time wishing that it does not.

I miss you, Summer.

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Mumbai Montage

Last night, me and my friend decided to go on a long drive on a bike in Mumbai. He came to pick me up at two a.m. and then it began. It was a chilly night and the roads, except for the highway were mostly deserted. If it were a movie, I would say it was all in black and yellow with just a few colours and bokehs sprewn here and there. We reached Bandra, after being searched by the police once for signs of drunken drinking. I realised it was a horrible horrible job. Instead of using breath analysers, a policemen would come near you and smell your breath in the pretense of asking your name. It ought to be included in the list for the “worst jobs around the world.” Then there was the ocean. Owing to low tide, the ocean was a huge and still mass of water. The moon was almost full. And believe me when I say it looked like somebody jad mashed up pieces of glasses and spread the shards on a huge black canvas which shimmered and sparkled in the black of the night. And it was hard to believe that this was Bandra. Then came Haji Ali, the glittering blue lights, the colours I talked about earlier, in the midst of the huge canvas. Slowly the architecture begins to change. There is an oncoming of tall buildings with darkened hollows for windows. The horizon is not at all visible, unlike the seaface earlier. And suddenly we have marine drive. It only gets better. The air gets colder than ever before. The huge body of water looks like an even more beautiful artwork. The moon in all its glory, seemed to be proud of its beauty. Then we came across the beautiful colonial past, the architectural heritage of Mumbai. In the dark of the knight they looked like those ancient black and white pictures that we now find printed on postcards. It was nearly 5 a.m. by this time and the beautiful highcourt decided to tell this to us with its beautiful chiming in the silent of the night. We decided to take a break and have some food with some caramel tea (I named it because of its peculiar taste) at an Irani cafe which was the only one open at the time. And finally after that we made our way back home. It was a beautiful night, a night to remember. And it felt as if everything fell into piece just to make it perfect for us, like those five planets that have aligned in the same line for the first time in decades.

On Leaving Home

The aroma of coffee in the morning..
The pleasant winter sunshine of the afternoons..
The brisk wind of the winters in the evening..
The glittering remnants of diwali in the night..

I will be back.. For these things that I love.. For some things are loved more deeply. ๐Ÿ™‚

-S.

Break post Break

So after a long break, I finally have net connection and free time to continue blogging. I knew this time was going to come sooner or later and it is going to be quite a task to compensate for all the days I have not written. So here is a fresh start.

It was my little sister’s birthday and I have not been keeping well. I couldn’t do much but she sure had fun with her friends. I can’t believe she is fifteen already. She is a millennial quite literally, born in 2000, her age is whatever the year is. 15 in 2015 and so on. These 15 years have been a real learning experience. She has always been the brave one and whenever I took a step back, she was the one who said it is okay to walk on. She has definitely been the best gift ever.

Tonight after dropping her friends home – my friends, she and I went on a car ride and it was crazy! The music was playing on full volume and we were playing some songs that related to each person’s personality, that reminded me of some incidents and made me nostalgic. I wonder sometimes if there is anything that brings more nostalgia than music. In my case, I can never ever forget who suggested me what song. It is a boon and a bane because sometimes some loved songs are destroyed by bad memories that come along with it.

The song that reallly stuck was “Kya Karoon?” from Wake Up Sid. There is no telling how much I love that movie and this song could very well be the theme song for my life. The dilemma never ends.

So that was that! So much for writing again, it will never be a blog in the true sense of the word. Just a random rant on even more random things.
Signing off,
Shreya

Sober Notes 7: Lights

During these nights when the moon is red
The sky is black but there is a halo around the moon
It seems confused, trying to be black
But red forces its way through
I saw an electric pole today
With those bright red lights
That are used to warn airplanes!
Only, this one didn’t flicker
And guess what? They became the red stars
And the pallete of the sky was complete
Never had I thought that man’s intervention
Could give birth to a scenery so beautiful
Bright shining red shining against the pitch black
Need I say any more?

-S.

Sober Notes 6: The Moon

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me.
I tell him “I am thinking about the moons and the stars.”
“Why them?” he asks.
“I was just wondering how the moon maintains its calm among all these stars?”
He replied in the voice that asserts authority, the voice that says I will give you knowledge “The stars, however bright are not visible in the morning, like the moon is.”

“How does it not feel inadequate?”
“Why would it feel inadequate when it gives birth to waves and to life, and to poetry that you write.”

“How is it not jealous of the sun which shines so bright?”
“The sun is eclipsed by the moon, proving that size is just a number.”

“How does it maintain individuality among so many others?”
“When you talk about individuality, can any other satellite boast of all those patterns on its face, where a man can see the silhouette of her love, who looks at the same moon even though they are several miles apart.”

-S.

Sober Notes 3

When your eyes refuse to rest,
Before the dawn of the sun.
Let the moon be your muse,
For the many songs remaining to be sung.

image

-S.

Vintage Memories

autosave

Midnight Musings. Credits: Meself. ๐Ÿ˜›

Midnight musings with a new found app. It’s interface is amazing. It worked exactly like a typewriter. Didn’t autocorrect, did not move to the next line. Pretty awesome. โค