The shades in between

Finding joy in little wins. Doing the dreaded dishes that have been piling up for a week, finding a tailor to mend my old jeans, getting up the guts to wear contact lenses... and finally just accepting that this is home.

After a year of rather sporadic posts (read "4"), I decided that things should be a little different this year. For starters, I shouldn't leave 14 drafts unattended to. Especially cryptic ones like 'Work and Caf'. Caffeine? Cafeteria? One shall never know. Secondly, I should post once a month, at the least. That shouldn't be so hard, right? Considering it's been 13 days and this is all I could come up with, I'm going to say no. Finally, I should attempt to write about something other than myself. As you can see, I seem to be doing such an incredible job with that already. Here's to the new year!

The smell of moist sand and freshly brewed coffee in the morning. The clanging of vessels in the kitchen competing with Nithyasree's shrill voice. Dad's loud complaints about the Government. Fighting for bed-space with sister. The smell of Amma's saris neatly stacked on the desk. The secret stash of french cheese lays in the cupboard. The old washerman staggering past the house with his crinkled smile. Endless post-it plans. Episodes of Gilmore Girls watched at 2 am with melted butter on popcorn. Bessy beach at 4. Extra chocolate chips at Arun Unlimited. Gorging down chilly cheese fries at Eatlica and missing dinner afterwards. Masala Chai on rainy days. Study sessions on the water tank. Sobbing silently behind the bathroom door. I wish I was home.

It’s funny how sometimes the most seemingly inconsequential excuse for an incident can alter the course of ones life. For instance, had I not been dreadfully bored that fateful Wednesday evening and hit the youtube link for Rebecca Black’s Friday, I would have never known how to get down! (Insightful, aren’t I?)

June 15, 2010 I was knee-deep in the production of Madras Plus, scampering from one part of the city to the next to unearth some sort of potentially intriguing story to meet the deadline. I was powered by 4 hours of sleep, soaked from head to toe thanks to Murphy's infamous ways… Yet, strangely, I was happy. June 15, 2011 I'm clocking my sixth hour for the day working on an IT project. When I get home, there is a pile of laundry, dirty dishes, electricity bills and Mo (my not-so-friendly neighbourhood mouse), waiting for me. I can see happiness lurking around the corner, and yet, no matter how many turns I take, I always ram into a wall.

I think it's safe to say that I have lost the ability to write. For starters, it look all of 2 strawberry yogurts, one chocolate milkshake and a frustrating 11 hours at the office to even come up with that much. To top it off, I don't know why I for starters-ed the previous sentence... Or topped off this one. Que Sera. Sera.