Day Twenty Nine

Today, we found a Ludo board at my grandparents' place. I generally keep away from Ludo because it's such a long game and tends to get pretty boring half way through. But upon my mother's insistence, I sat down to play with her, Ilina and our grandfather. I don't remember the last time I played a board game, or any game for that matter, with him.

We ended up having a great time together. We cracked jokes and got completely absorbed into the game with my grandfather rolling nothing but sixes, Ilina being confident of winning even though all she got were ones, me laughing loudly and mom playing smartly with strategy. After a long, long game, I was both thrilled and exhausted.

It's nice when we have fun together as a family. Sometimes I feel like we've grown apart over the years, or perhaps it's me who has moved away. I've gotten caught up with my own life, my college, my work, my friends and academics. Maybe I ought to realize just how much there is to the life at home immediately around me before I jump far away into a world of my own. I need both worlds- perhaps one more than the other.

Day Twenty Eight

P. G. Wodehouse, you literary genius, I bow down before you. How do you attract my attention so? How do you catch me by the collar and yank my straight into your writing, making my eyelids stiffen and my stomach hurt from all the laughter you cause? Tell me, Sire, how do you manage to keep me hooked book after book after book? How is it that I never tire of reading about a lost bloke and his quest for a fair one? How is it that old characters stay so young? How is it that I can say with utmost confidence that I wherever I go, one would find one of your books in my bag? You're writing has been my companion through my teenage years and will continue to keep me alive for decades to come.
You're immortal. Timeless. Infinite.
You're characters breathe life into you, and your stories breathe life into me.

"The Girl In Blue" tickles.

Day Twenty Seven

In Calcutta, tea and other drinks from roadside stalls are served in terracotta glasses and pots. Knowing that all we get in Mumbai are plastic or paper cups, I kept all the glasses that I drank in to bring home.
Drinking from them is so refreshing. They keep tea warm and nimbu paani cold. They feel lovely in my hand and against my lips. Seeing boxes full of discarded cups made me want to bring them all home. It's nice to have found a metropolitan city independent of glass and plastic, one that's so integrally eco-friendly.

Today, Ilina and I painted the pots and cups that I brought home. We had nice, light conversation and had an interesting discussion about the gradation of the way paint gets absorbed along the inside of the glass. I painted two. One was black with yellow stick figures and birds on it while the other was red with abstract black markings on it. Funny looking things. It's been ages since I painted. I wonder why.

Day Twenty Six

I got a postcard in the mail today! It was the second one in a week! And the icing on the cake was that the inscription was in rhyme!
I opened the door to leave home when I found it at my feet- carelessly slipped through the door by our postman. My smile widened as I read. I love when the back of the postcard makes me happier than the picture on the front.

Postcards make a lot of sense to me. When one's out vacationing, one rarely gets the time to send details or highlights of one's trip to one's near and dear ones. So, one picks up an overpriced postcard from a tourist-y spot and one scribbles on the address and a note at the back and sends it off. How perfectly perfect. Not to mention convenient.
Although, I do think that if we're going to be charged twenty-five rupees for a postcard, it ought to come with a stamp on it.

I also wish India had more fun stamps, perhaps with our national bird or animal, or with characters from The Jungle Book. Our late Prime Minister is really tired of being pasted all over the place.

Day Twenty Five

Today, Bum and I were bored. So we gave each other a topic to write about. It was nice to do some writing with actual pen and paper. It's a pity that we've become slaves to technology- making memos on our mobile phone, using virtual sticky-notes, writing emails instead of letters and writing word documents. I still maintain that no matter what I'm writing, ideas never flow onto a keyboard like they do onto paper.

Random topics leading to little tales of silly nonsense. What a lovely way to bide away the time.

Day Twenty Four

After four long days of walking continuously in the scorching heat and getting back home just to stay up all night watching movies and telling jokes, I was pretty tired. Today, I slept in, without a care in the world. It was blissful. I don’t remember what time it was when I finally awoke, but it was much later than usual (which is not early anyway). Have you ever slept so heavily that your eyelids have been soldered shut, that your body is pulled down by a force stronger than gravity, that your subconscious is too tired to dream, that the world is a big hole and you’re sinking through it, that no sound or movement could pull you out, that you can feel every cell in your body recline and smile? Well, that’s how wonderful it felt to sleep today. And when you sleep so comfy, having to wake up isn’t all that bad.

Calcutta- Day Four

Calcutta- Day Three