At ease, at home

No matter how hard I tried to get most of my work done before I got here, there’s that little tail that’s lingering, and only two days for the month to end and for me to tie up the loose ends. The reason I worked my ass off ahead of time, this time around was because I know what happens to me when I get to Goa. I slow down, and I got into a mental shutdown, holiday-like mode, for no apparent reason. So here I am, making difficult choices. Much like I did yesterday. To research a new and wildly fascinating aspect of septic tanks again (please sense my sarcasm, please sense it), or watch the Oscars? To finish that scintillating post about the economics of sanitation or to binge watch This Is Us that I didn’t even know has started again?

Decisions, decisions. Anyhow, you’ll be happy to know I spent 75% of yesterday binge watching Trevor Noah, before I decided to get down to work. And somehow, I managed to finish, and meet my deadline before the end of day, while simultaneously cooking us some pasta for dinner.

Speaking of binge-watching, I have been watching a lot of TV since I got here. I watched Period. End of Sentence. last week — it’s possibly one of the most beautiful documentaries I’ve seen on menstrual health in India, and even though it’s a topic that has the potential to be dismal depressing, it made me just so happy watching it. OH, and it won an Oscar yesterday!

I watched Stree last week, and as much as I love Rajkumar Rao, I think this one was lost on me. I just didn’t get what the big deal was. On the weekend, VC and I re-watched Befikre (Ranveer Singh makes this one worth it for me, again and again and again) and Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (surprisingly, I enjoyed it this time around, which makes me think the company of the opinionated twats I watched it in the first time had coloured my experience). After we watched Gully Boy last week and having our senses smacked in, I’ve been guzzling any video related to it. So I decided to rewatch whatever Zoya Akhtar films I can get my hands on, just for the heck of it. I recently watched Dil Dhadakne Do, only for like the fourth time around, so I might give that one a pass.

I’ve managed to sneak in exercise almost everyday, and mostly cooking all meals at home. This time around, things feel a lot more settled, and I even though there are places I want to go to, I’m tempted to stay in and just be. On Sunday night, though, VC and I went out to dinner to a charming little restaurant in the garden of a home in the neighbourhood. The music played off an old Macbook hooked up to a Altec Lansing tower speaker, the furniture looked like it was dragged out of the home itself, the lady of the house chattered away on the telephone to her grandson loudly while we stifled giggles, and the power went off three times dashing our hopes of eating the lasagne because their oven went out of commission. The joys of living in a village, the chef/owner said to us. And I agreed. It was a joy to eat in the mostly silent ambience, with just the sound of granny chiding her 15-year old grandson who is in Bombay and refuses to learn Marathi or Hindi, and the crickets, with no lights in sight for miles. When the lights did come back on, there was this.

This week though, I plan to drive myself to Panjim to meet A, And C. I also want to go to the beach again. VC’s friends get here on the weekend and we’re going to be socialising and back at the beach, I anticipate. I also want to eat at at least one of the places on my list of restaurants I like to visit whenever I am here, but I’m having trouble deciding which one.

This time around, things feel a lot more settled. This time around, there is clarity. And even though I am unsure of when and if I will ever move here again, it’s a really good feeling to have a home and the mindspace that feels like home enough for every visit.

One year ago: I’m glad that I’m alive
Three years ago: In between mouthfuls

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