tale of two

Delhi is a city that belongs to you.
It belongs to me, anyway.

Mumbai on the other hand...
It is a city that claims you, consumes you, sometimes crushes you.

I have never known a third city.

Delhi roads, and crossroads.

Sometimes Delhi roads are like a pretty path cleared between a forest. Beautiful roads with stories to tell. Shanti Path, Race Course Road, Vijay Chowk, Zakir Hussain Road, and of course, Ashoka Road - the one that always leads me home.
"When in doubt, take Ashoka Road". And so I follow that decree to a tee. Whenever I get lost - something really common in Delhi (I mean come on, there are like 37 roundabouts in CP alone) - I take Ashoka Road.
Vijay Chowk is a beautiful road - a crossing, really. On each side lies a landmark worth stopping and admiring - India Gate on one side, the President's Estate (complete with its 300+ rooms) on the other. You know how kids want to grow up and become President? Well, I wanna be President too - just so I can live in that house and stroll in the Mughal Gardens any damn time I want.


It is raining in Delhi - like crazy. It makes me wistful.

This blog was originally meant to be called something else, but I'll save that story for another rainy day.

half full

On the 1st of this month, my grandfather told my mother, "Today is the first day of my 98th year."
He turned 97 on 31st August 2011.

And he still looks forward to the future just like he did when he was my age, like he has his whole life ahead of him. To have that kind of positivity and hope and pureness of thought - that's worth living for.

second helping

I remember the first - maybe the only - spit shake of my life. I remember who the spit shake was with, but strangely I can't remember what it was about. Imagine the importance of a promise that I actually resorted to a spit shake - and how ironic that I can't remember what I wasted all that saliva for!

I'm not a bullet point presentation. I'm a long essay.
I tell long stories.

So those who are interested in the "gist" or the "crux" of things, don't interest me.

I would like to run away somewhere. Away from my life and the people in it. Just for a while.
A white balcony - just enough for one person and her cup of coffee. A book or a notebook to write in. A letter or a silly poem.
As an alternative, I will settle for a stranger. Someone I don't know. Someone who doesn't know anything about me but my name. Someone who is not acquainted with my baggage and doesn't care to share theirs. Over a long conversation. Or a walk.

There are some friends that, in the middle of a really serious conversation, can just make you burst out laughing. #arvind