To new Mondays like these

I’m home.

And so just like that we are cohabiting again. Which means we have to both adjust to the rhythms and routines of living with one other human being around us. The added detail this time is that VC is probably going to be working out of home for the foreseeable future.

It’s exciting as hell, because everything is suddenly different, shiny and new and I love all the extra time we get together thanks to the fluidity that comes with having complete control over our schedules. But it’s also been a touch unsettling, as much as it was unsettling when VC moved away. Because it means getting through a bunch of suitcases once again, finding space for all our expanded belongings again. And until that happens, especially over the weekend, the home felt a bit like an obstacle course. I’ve noticed that this tends to happen very quickly when VC is around — things never find their way back to where they belong, they hang around, scattered and misplaced — and our tiny home begins to feel cluttered very quickly. But I’m also observing how this time I am less perturbed. Aware, and observant of the mess, but more realistically accepting, not annoyed as yet. Also allowing for ease, time and space before we get to unpacking fully.

It means that I have to temper my excitement of having VC around a lot more. It curbing allllllll the random things I want to say to him over the course f the day, because unlike me, he can’t compartmentalise his brain and chat while working. So I have to save it up for break time.

It means I have someone to outsource the chasing away of stray lizards that makes it into the home, rather than brave the horrendous task myself.

It means replacing the long-drawn facetime calls of the last year with actual facetime, everyday. More togetherness, more conversation.

It means twice the laundry, twice the cooking, twice the planning, yes.

It means realising once again that it’s possible to feel wistful and nostalgic about the time I had living by myself, simultaneously as I feel an overwhelming excitement about the days to come. The two can coexist. Like with most other dualities, I find myself no longer trying to choose and pick a side. Accepting one doesn’t make the opposing force less true.

It means spontaneous Monday afternoon jaunts to eat things we randomly crave, without having to plan or schedule them. Like we did today, with the intention to eat a really good burger — our last real binge and the end of the holiday life before we get back to regular programming and eating healthy, home food again — which turned into us eating really good steaks at an old Bangalore favourite. It did not disappoint.

It gave me special thrills to take an auto back and forth, to walk down the streets of CBD together on a typically Bangalore November afternoon with a slight nip in the air, a distinct breeze with the sun shining down too.

For now, I’m definitely home.

***

Gratitude today for the twists and turns of the last year. And like VC said to me yesterday, ever so grateful for whatever it is outside of us that has shaped and enabled the way in which our relationship has evolved and brought us to where we are today.

One year ago: And yesterday becomes tomorrow
Three years ago: Slow down, clown

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All heart

23 kilometres run this week.

An important, excellent therapy session.

A morning dipping my toes into authentic movement and expressive arts to explore what’s held in the body.

Ten hours of extremely satisfying practice and study with S and V.

A day spent with S.

VC is home.

An afternoon at Koshy’s by myself, writing letters.

It’s left me feeling fresh and pulpy perfect as a greener than green slice of avocado. Light as a balloon ready to set off floating aimlessly into the clueless sky. Open like a just bloomed sunflower chasing the sun obediently.

Happy, like me.

***

Happy and so grateful for the metro today. I know I’ve said this a lot lately, and S joked saying I should be the poster child for the Bangalore Metro, but it has been a truly life-changing shift for me. To go from thoughtlessly jumping into a cab, to now always making sure I have fifteen minutes extra to make it to the Metro, more often than not, has altered a lot for me these past few months.

One year ago: It’s just another ordinary miracle
Three years ago: Sticky trash

Fries before guys

This past week I ended up wandering around my neighbourhood a fair bit. A rare evening walk on the only day the rain let up. That emergency run to the wine store two streets away. Stopping by the florist on return to buy just two stalks of lilies. Going personally to buy veggies at the hole in the wall store we’ve been going to for years, but that I’ve forgotten about since bigbasket took over. But this past week I felt the urge of going out myself, picking veggies with my hands, pressing them to assess tenderness, sniffing them to check for freshness, and the like. The guy remembered me of course — it hasn’t been that long. But to me, it definitely felt like a return after aeons. A return from blindly clicking on unimaginatively flattened images of all the things I need, and really stepping in to a store that tickles more than a couple senses at one go. Maybe it’s all the increased motivation for all things domestic.

This is not to be mistaken as virtue signalling. I still will continue to use bigbasket and the like, but when my routine allows it and I have the urge, I do like to get out myself.

I stopped by the local “hot chips” store on my way back. And it was again a moment of rushing back in time. The “technology” has gotten mildly sophisticated to facilitate faster churning out of bigger crisper batches — a semi-mechanised mandolin-like thingamjig to slice potatoes paper thin and directly send them flying into a scalding wok, so all the dude has to do is gently splosh them about in the hot oil till ready — but the smells of boiling oil and all the familiar spices threatening to set off a sneeze fit, the sights the shelves stacked high with an assortment of fried goodies and the block-like cases sporting brightly coloured differently spiced deep-fried goodness — from potatoes to tapioca to jackfruit to karela and bananas and so much more. The heating contraption to melt and seal bags of chips, that old school weighing scale with the hexagonal iron weights. The open bowls of samplers on the counter top. And the lady with a big smile welcoming you to her haven of fried everything.

There are some things that just spell Bangalore. Fried eye-timms are definitely on top of that list for me. Hot Chips stores are a close second.

I came home with two kilos of chips that day. A kilo and a half to take to Niyu’s birthday party along with the massive batch of hung curd dip I made. And half a kilo just for me. To eat with everything. It’s true love, this.

One year ago: Say, say, say, hey, hey now baby (Amsterdam. Day 3.)
Three years ago: I had to talk about Coke Studio, just a little bit

Free

Every now and then there’s a day that’s so good, it takes me by surprise. I began yesterday with a run in the park — my first real, proper outdoor run. And by that I mean, not a walk-run-walk-run run but a legit long-distance run. And by long distance I mean 5+ kms. Truth be told, I didn’t know what it would be like. I was pretty sure I’d walk more than run because I know how running on a treadmill is a bit of a hack because it sets a steady pace and you have to just keep up. Not to undermine the effort and stamina that takes — I have seen how little by little I have gotten better and steadier at running on the treadmill and pushing the kms a little everyday. But, I always believed outdoor running is a whole other ball game. I have also never had the sort of endurance that I do now.

And yet. Yesterday was such a revelation. First of all, it was a cracker of a morning. Many hours of rain the previous night meant there was a crisp nip in the air. Not bitingly cold, but just perfectly cool enough. The sun was beginning to peek out ever so subtly. The park on a weekday is 100% better than the park on the weekend. I began with a slow and steady jog, picked it up to a comfortable pace and then kept waiting to go out of breath and feel the need to walk/stop. But that moment never came. Pretty much until the end of my 45 minute stint, by which time I had inadvertently clocked nearly 5 and a half kilometres.

I was beyond stoked. Not just by the numbers, but the sheer thrill of being outdoors and seeing actual results for something I have been silently working at. Something about the lungs expanding the way they do in the midst of greenery, having my heart race and breaking a proper heavy sweat even when the weather is chill, and winding my way through a green, green park, slowly but steadily, feeling so, so, so tuned in and focused.

It’s taken me a long time to consider a mid-week run in the park. It’s taken me longer still to get out and do it alone, even without company. But it was so good, I maybe considering doing it more often.

In the evening, Niyu and I took ourselves out for an early dinner to Koshy’s. We ended up having breakfast for dinner — omelettes, chicken sandwiches and a plate of smileys — between ourselves, with a large rum and very iced tea as a mixer. Then we ducked into Hard Rock Cafe to catch a Thermal and a Quarter tribute gig to celebrate 17 years of their very first album.

It was the kind of evening that was like going back in time. A real life throwback Thursday, if you will. Not just because I got to hear TAAQ again after so many, many years, but because they performed in the OG set up with Rudy stepping in for a few numbers, the groupies and crew returning to reunite in celebration, and also something about rock and Bangalore churns up the somethings-will-never-change feels for me. It was really like stepping back in time. The vibe, the people, the excitement. It may as well have been 2003 in Zero G which was my first time hearing them live. I was all of 19, and there at the behest of Niyu, but also lured by the idea of watching a boy who had semi heart-eyes for me perform. It was a time before mobile phones, let alone camera phones. And so we didn’t document anything back in the day. But I have vivid memories of having such a good time, and drinking way too much more than I could handle. It was a simpler time when we managed to get home safe, even over-inebriated, no cabs, no cell phones. Good times.

And so I relived it all last night. As an adult. And it made all the difference. There is a new self-assuredness and awareness of myself and the space I occupy at social gatherings that I am suddenly very aware of. That little bit of self-consciousness that always kept me one step back from the thick of it seems to be slowly peeling away. I feel much more at ease and comfortable in my skin, I have loosened up in ways I didn’t even know I could or needed to, and I am able to step in and have a good time with little thought.

Yesterday was such a freeing day.

One year ago: One night to speed up the truth (Amsterdam. Day 1.)
Three years ago: Control issues, part 2

Special

So, I had a craving over the weekend. Quite late, long after I’d finished my dinner and settled into bed.

It melted in the time it took to get to me. But it was still so effing good. Is there anything better than a night-time craving to complement that binge-watch, that arrives at your doorstep without so much as your lifting a finger, all so you can eat it in bed?

I think not.

***

I spent all of yesterday with S. It took me over an hour to get there, and over an hour to get back. And over the course of the day, the weather went from bright and sunny (but not hot) enough to need sunglasses, to dark and gloomy with torrential rain. I missed the post-rain traffic mayhem though, and was home just long enough for it to settle, before my dad and I took a family friend out to eat an Andhra meal all the way in town again.

To be able to zip around, back and forth, even when the city is chaotic — these are not luxuries I take for granted.

Over dinner, the friend asked me if I prefer to live in Bangalore or Goa. In the past I’ve firmly said Goa without so much as a thought. Then there was a phase where I said both, and expressed joy at having the option to shuttle. Yesterday though, I caught myself saying “Bangalore, for now” without batting an eyelid.

There is something special about this truth and how deeply it has settled within me, lately.

I’m truly grateful for this life and all that it affords for me, for now.

One year ago: Fickle and changeable (Bruges. Day 1.)

True

This past week, and weekend, I’ve been so taken by an emerging spontaneity that is slowly but surely creeping out of me.

It’s fresh and zesty and so unlike anything I have ever experienced before. There is a lightness about me, the way in which I am connecting with people and events and the implicit way in which no reaction seems unfit.

Everything seems to fit suddenly. And I’m noticing it all from a distance, but feeling it all intensely.

I am so enjoying this coming to life. This breaking down of some parts of a lifelong persona. Every small highlight or glimmer of the authentic self beneath it all showing up and gaining shape, size and strength.

Some highlights of spontaneity:

Attending the Bangalore efforts towards the Global Climate Strike and feeling overwhelmed, charged and like I belong. To be in the midst of almost a 1000 people united for a single cause was all kinds of empowering.

An overwhelmingly beautiful pink sunset that I caught while zipping across town to make it to a movie screening I randomly decided to attend. My father joined me too and we made an evening of it.

An unplanned pre-birthday dinner with my father and my sister and sharing a table, food and many laughs.

A new black dress, a belt cinched at the waist in most uncharacteristic fashion (for me), new pink shoes and the willingness and energy to go from one party to another in one night, only to get home close to 2.30 am.

 

Going with the flow and allowing myself the space and permission to honour my pace, my needs and my state of mind on Sunday morning, over what needed to be done. Choosing to sit that round out, despite the discomfort of being critiqued for it.

***

I realised this morning that I’ve been unintentionally, unconsciously brave a lot lately. And when I say brave, I mean this newfound energy that’s allowing my real self to be seen more often than not. Without realising it, I’ve been looking out for myself in a deeply personal way, like I haven’t known before. Those are mostly the moments where my true self shows up. But I don’t always realise it or give those moments, or myself, their due. But, I think this is what being comfortable in one’s own skin feels like. What an absolutely exciting place to be, this is!

One year ago: You’re still young and that’s your fault (Paris. Day 4.)
Two years ago: Joyful
Three years ago: Moarrrr books

It was all yellow

Even though VC made a trip to Bangalore to be with me on our anniversary, it was the most mundane, regular day we could have had.

My favourite kind of day, really. The kind I am sorely missing having more of with him, and the kind I am desperately looking forward to having more of when he returns for good.

There were yellow flowers. Of course. (Like so, and so, and so, and so.) We began the day super early, for a Sunday, at Cubbon Park. D and I, for the customary walk, and VC roaming around with his camera and pocket tripod, taking pictures. This was followed by breakfast at Airlines, post which we got back home and back into bed. to stay there for the rest of the day. I’m not even kidding, slightly.

We lazed around, chatting, watching Netflix, doing our own thing, I may have even doxed off a couple of times. We only got out of bed to fix ourselves some lunch, and eventually only at 7 pm, when we couldn’t push showering and leaving the house any later. We had dinner reservations at a hip new Chinese bar house in town that I have been dying to try. I couldn’t decide if lure was Chinese food or the cocktail menu. Maybe it was both.

Yellow seemed to be the colour of the day, really. And it gave me a lot of joy to wear a newly made blouse, in a really old saree of amma’s to dinner.

Dinner itself was a strange 50-50 combination of amazing and underwhelming. The cocktails we had were outstanding (I had a plum G&T which was OMG), one appetiser and the noodles we got were exceptionally good, but two things — one main and the dessert — were strictly meh. We giggled about how that was even possible. But I want to go back for a second shot, to assess things better. And have some more cocktails. They were to die for.

Aside from stepping out with VC and having more beer than I normally do on any given week, the rest of last week — Tuesday onwards — went by in a blur of mostly trying to fight the bug and only succeeding in keeping it beneath the surface till it fully took over on Thursday. So I cancelled the rest of the week fully, in favour of staying in bed.

On Sunday morning, I took myself out to a talk on What next for Kashmir. I feel a greater sense of keenness in understanding my world and what is shaping it, a desire to listen to more narratives than the mostly unidimensional ones of my very privileged world, and a greater responsibility in how I engage with my world. It was a tremendous talk that has stayed with me and left me with thoughts circling my brain even today.

Since I was feeling almost 80% better, and since the talk was all the way in town, I carried a book along with a plan to take myself out for a solo lunch somewhere, while I read. I had no plan or specific place in mind. But I bumped into S at the talk and was so happy to spontaneously have company over lunch. As usual we ate well, a shrimp roll for me and a pulled pork sandwich for her, as usual we yakked nine to the dozen, and as always I came home charged, energised and inspired.

There’s something about getting out to play, at play in my life. Slowly the pieces are coming together and things I have been making meek, small attempts at for months finally seem to be finding some direction and purpose.

I feel a greater sense of allowance, for and of myself. Quite unknowingly, I am giving myself permission to do things, to move in certain ways, to make choices, to present myself in a certain way, to allow space for expansion, in ways that I hesitated to, or didn’t think I was worth, or believed I wasn’t ready for, or waited for “good reason” for until now. Whether by way of indulging in a good meal, several mid-week beer, an extra kilometre on the treadmill, that new book spontaneously bought, a tailored dress, or whether it is to listen to my body when it’s asking for rest, spending three full days in bed if necessary without fretting, doing nothing for no apparent reason, pursuing the smallest things simply because I feel like. This is very new for me.

I genuinely feel my life blossoming because of it. This past weekend I realised this in full measure. My body hasn’t taken ill in this way in over a year, but in giving it rest as soon as it needed it and not resenting the illness like it was something to fix, I watched how I bounced back miraculously, and in record time. There is without a doubt a certain fullness I am feeling in my life, a genuine expansion and a blooming in full measure. There is so much to live and give and my cup, it runneth over. Over and over again.

One year ago: One breath leads to another
Two years ago: Grow
Three years ago: Empty

Stay and stay a while

It’s VC departure day and I’ve been exceptionally gloomy about it this time around. It’s a combination of PMS, I think, plus really being at the end of my tether with the in-between life, and really wanting to get a move on. It’s compounded by the fact that my mother left two nights ago, and with VC gone today, my sister and father leaving on the weekend too, I’m feeling preemptively morose.

You have so many people to hang out with! said VC when I complained to him last night.

And yes, while that’s indeed true, it’s just…not the same, you know?

It’s one thing finding company, no matter how enthralling, but quite another thing entirely sharing my very life and spaces with people I love. Which is the kind of intimacy I was ruing.

***

We drove out this morning, my dad, VC and I, ostensibly to catch a quick brunch before VC headed off to the airport. But driving out turned into driving all the way to the airport, and a quick brunch turned into leisurely beers (many for them, a single one for me) and a quick bite. I decided to test my throat (that is feeling much better) today with that beer, and I feel oddly better.

VC was thrilled to be headed back to his peace and quiet life, with the weekend just a day away, and the end of his notice period now in sight.

I’m happy to let him go, temporarily (especially because this is the first time in forever that I’m seeing VC cut back and really focus on the fun) but this gnawing feeling of wanting to be together again keeps tugging at me from within. I’m just sitting tight and biding time, knowing that it is in fact just a matter of time before the nature and quality of my life the past week becomes the new normal.

The most obvious antidote to these blues would have been to hop on the same flight with VC and go to Goa, seeing as how I have no commitments for another week at least. But I’m just not feeling drawn to being there somehow. There’s just so much momentum that’s drummed up with things here, with the simultaneous internal slowing down, and the surprising new ability to just lie in waiting for things to unfold as they should, without efforting any of it.

I feel like the call is to wait, not rush off.

Here, now, is where it’s at and I’m staying grounded to that hunch.

Meanwhile, it’s life in passing. Slow motion. Daily, normal, mundane and joyful to tide over the intense missings.

One year ago: I want the truth to be said
Two years ago: Finding life again

Three years ago: Lines and dreams

Monday funday

VCs been home since Friday and he was to leave today. But happily enough, a fortuitous work plan emerged that had him extend his stay by three days. At this point it really feels like the universe is pushing to really make this home base again.

Anyhow, extra time is always a good thing. So we took off to catch up on some errands and snuck in a lunch out about town together too.

I could get used to Mondays that begin like this.

One year ago: Every inch of sky’s got a star
Three years ago: Disjointed, incomplete thoughts

Gratitude fix

Grateful for the great weather we’ve been having. Sweaters by night, sunshine by day. Crisp early beginnings, the beginnings of winter sunlight that frame every new day and make me forget all that’s wrong with the world for just that little bit.

Sure, it’s made waking up as early as I am used to a tad harder. Actually, scratch that. The waking up happens rather easily, I’m afraid I’ve hacked my body clock to open eyes at 6 am. It’s the leaving the bed and getting out from under the blanket bit thats much, much harder. I end up snoozing the alarm for upwards of 40 minutes and have pushed my start of day a fair bit.

Grateful for the festivities of the weekend. After many years I had the opportunity to indulge in more than just the partaking of the feast — which is frankly the most interesting part of Ganesh Chaturti, amiright? I enjoyed wandering about shopping with amma, and doing my little bit to cook parts of the traditional meal we’ve been accustomed to eating for all these years, and that I realised I have a special fondness and affinity for.

I’ve indulged in about three times the amount of food I consume on any given day over Gowri and Ganesh, taking seconds (and thirds in some cases) of all my favourite foods, unabashedly. All my restraint and restrictions have fallen to the wayside almost as easily as they have been imbibed, and I’m observing how natural and easy to give in and slip back on track it has become of late. Is this what eating intuitively is?

Grateful for the burst of life that festivals bring to my neighbourhood, literally transforming the place. Traffic is a bitch, but we got out on foot, in the middle of the day and in another time I might have been hassled and bothered. But I enjoyed it, the sights and sounds suddenly appealing and sweet, touching a hitherto untouched part of my heart almost.

This is V and we’ve reconnected after about 10 years. It’s only been a handful of times that we’ve met, but every time that we have, it’s been lighthearted, easy, full of laughter. I almost forget we are adult versions of the people we were when we used to be broke teenagers in college who resorted to hanging out on park benches because we had no money to go anywhere else. And yet, somewhere in between the rambunctious laughter over the silliest things, I see how far we’ve come, how grown up we are. I’m grateful for the many reconnections I’ve had. It’s brought variety to my friendships, loosened me up and brought a much-needed lightness to my life that allows for unabashed day drinking.

There’s been something of a throwback theme going on with me. Last week I caught up with S after more than a decade, and at Koshys where we met, I happened to glance around and notice my English Literature professor sitting at a table behind me. She’s literally the only teacher from those three godawful years in college, who I cared for, who made an impact on me, and who I remember enough to go say hi. I looked straight at her, dead sure she wouldn’t recognise me. In my head, I look nothing like I did in college, especially with the shorter than ever before hair. But she looked straight back at me and went; “Revati!”

We engaged in a full on conversation and she seemed to remember every little detail about where we left off — which was 2006 — when I graduated! My interests, the professors I disliked, my resistance to Shakespeare and my love for Eliot, alike. And I have no idea how, but she knew I lived in Goa. She expressed such joy when I responded to What are you up to? with I write.

I can’t tell you how happy that made me!

Extra, extra grateful for public transport more than ever before. The more I think about the little ways in which I can reduce putting a car and four wheels on the road, the more I think about the implications of spending so much money on something as basic as getting about town, the more compelled I feel to make the effort to take the metro whenever I can. And it’s a delight to see it pay off.

I’m grateful for N who has stayed like a silent, strong force holding space for all that has been unfolding for me. Even with our infrequent meetings, I’ve found a space where I can increasingly be me, in all my different states of togetherness of the lack thereof. No filters, no adjustments. It is a real privilege, relief. And joy. As I make sense of so many little and big things as they unfold and churn up a world of emotions and realisations within me.

One year ago: August

Brain noodles

Last week was an important one for me. Several small, subtle shifts that signal other important changes seem to have clicked into place.

I ended three days of class feeling a strange sort of separation, like growing up and feeling ready to fly the nest. Last time, this feeling came with a fair share of angst and difficulty in accepting this natural progression. But this time around, just four weeks later, something has shifted.

I surprised myself with how ready I felt to do the work, to take my place, to stretch myself, to allow myself to fumble, make mistakes and ask for help.

Some significant, memorable things:
I met up with a friend after a whole decade and was delighted to find how easy it was to pick up the pieces just where we left off, even though our lives have moved on so much, in such immense ways.

I hit 7k on my run last week. It made me giddy with happiness.

I woke up one morning to some super cute baby photos of myself, from an aunt who used to be one of my most favourites until some weird shit caused her to isolate herself. Waking up to them pictures, and her little anecdotal message recalling things from a time I obviously don’t remember, was precious.

That pesto fried chicken burger that hit the spot.

Three days of really rigorous learning that I still haven’t recovered from. The weekend was a blur of much napping, and mostly staying in. Even though I cancelled morning plans, ostensibly to sleep in, I did make it to the gym because I seem to have hacked my system to go to bed early and wake up early too. But that aside, it was mostly a homebody weekend until I took myself to watch Vir Das last night, all by myself, all the way in Whitefield. Yeah, I continue to shock myself.

Vir Das has always been a favourite, and after last night’s show I think I’m pretty sure he’s in a league of his own. I can’t wait for this special to make it to Netflix.

Three years ago: Wandering, right here at home

Love actually

When you know, you just know. Ever so slowly, with just as much intensity creeping up on me as it did when I realised I needed to live on my own, I have realised that this time is done. Everything that it could have served at this point in my life, has been nearly done. And I am so ready to go back to living with VC. I am ready to share space and togetherness again.

I guess you could say the realisation crept up on me when I began to miss him more intensely than normal. It began about a month ago when I returned from Goa. The number of calls I make on any given day have outnumbered the number of calls he makes to me (and the fact that he had taken to calling me more than twice a day was in itself a pleasant shocker). But I think the real clincher that something fundamental had changed was when I started nesting again. It’s almost like the dead impulse to do anything remotely domestic has been kindled again, and I am homing. Like a bloody pigeon. Readying this home once again to the familiar, warm and life-filled place it was before VC moved.

For no apparent reason, I took down curtains to launder, cleaned out storage spaces and carried out a massive deep cleaning operation of my fridge and kitchen a few weeks ago. In the process, I realised how disconnected I have been from all things domestic around here. Partly because living on my own has required less involvement on the home front. Things have functioned on auto pilot, with just me taking care of me. Amma and I eat most of our meals together, prepared by her so my kitchen has been barely functional the last 3-4 months. Things have been proper and in shape, but with a perceivable lack of life. The sort of thing that fills homes as an outcome of when people being connected, bringing energy and breathing life into mere spaces. This takes active living, and since I was mostly just coming home to sleep for the greater part of the last many months, there’s been a growing sense of lifelessness about my home.

Suddenly something turned. I’m spending more and more time here, feeling homely and cosy. Imagining meals I want to cook, dreaming of all the places my plants will go when they’re transported from Goa. And there’s groceries in my kitchen, vegetables and curd and bread and eggs in my fridge. The curtains are clean, the cupboards slowly being made dust-free. A whole lot of old clothes and shoes have been discarded/donated. You know, mundanities.

I’ve even spent some mornings cooking elaborate meals that I felt inspired to make. I braved the daunting 6-hour recipe making ulavacharu out of half a kilo of horsegram because all this staying in, in this weather demands all things zesty and earthy in my plate. I also made half a kilo of popped makhanas to snack on. I mean healthy snack preps? Is there a bigger sign that I’m well and truly home?

The home is functioning again, basically. And then this morning, I emptied out VC’s cupboard that I had appropriated and spilled myself and my belongings over into last year when he moved to Goa. So I suppose, it’s official now. I’m done living alone.

The distance has been especially painful this week, since he left early Monday morning, and I am already counting days to our next trip already. The good thing is, I managed to convince him to make two trips to visit me here in Bangalore during this time I cannot leave the city. He was convinced, very easily. And he acted on proposed plans, very quickly.  Last weekend was one of those trips and it was a joyful, quiet, contained weekend for me.

Even with the excessive (by my new standards) being outdoors, it was a weekend spent just being. Whether out or at home (and we did consciously spend a fair bit of much-needed time by ourselves at home) it really brought home the fact that this is something we sorely missed doing in the initial months when we moved here from Goa, over two years ago.

I realise now, in retrospect, that 2017 Revati and the headspace she was in when we moved — initially out of desperation and then driven by a compulsion to make it work — swiftly slipped into get-it-done mode. This made me completely inward-looking and disconnected from all else. What parts of me remained were drawn and invested in being with my family. Which left VC to deal with his family as best as he could, or be alone. Even when we were together, I see now how disconnected we were. Emotionally, more than anything else.

I’ve been feeling those gaps closing in the past many months. But something about his trip here really hit home. There was a visible comfort in being here — in this city — that was missing in 2017. An ease and presence. A deliberate relaxation from not trying hard to make it work, and the consequent lack of guilt from sometimes failing at that. A comfort and acceptance of things, and just going with the flow.

This past weekend, we did things we haven’t done here in a long time. Chose to be home. Ate home cooked meals, making rotis and chopping onions together. Also ordered our favourite desserts to eat in bed while we Netflixed, separately. You know, life as it used to be. We also took ourselves out on a proper date — drinks at HRC followed by Kunal Kamra who made us laugh so hard our faces hurt and we came home buzzed and unable to sleep.

I got a special kick in showing VC all the things I newly love about the city. We walked a lot, took the metro into town on the night of Kunal’s show, walking some more to get places. It felt like I was taking a tourist about town and we giggled at the idea. We hit some of our favourite spots in the city, and I realised this is such a pleasant change — VC willing to get out and about and do things in the city. We spent time talking about what the next few months hold for us — me urging him to take things slow, for a change, and him egging me on to push myself, for a change. And I couldn’t help but think, how far we’ve come.

I’d be lying if I downplayed the fact that I am severely excited about VC’s return. In some odd ways it feels like we’ve hit reboot on our relationship. Without knowing it needed work, it somehow got worked on. And the results are only visible now in the palpable freshness that’s in place of the comfortable staidness that I suppose kicks in after you’ve been married for ten years. As I count down the days to living together again, I feel excited like I used to be 12 years ago when we’d plan to hang out and I’d count down the hours to when we’d meet, and he’d show up with the childlike enthusiasm, but the kind of grown-up love he was never too afraid to show. I sense that old VC returning, and this feels like a homecoming in more ways than one.

When it’s time, it’s time. And when you know, you just know.

One year ago: I want to thank you for giving me the best days of my life

Slowly

Rainy Bangalore days abound. It’s been just the right amount of rain for my liking, restricted to early mornings and late nights. Which means it’s been enough to bring temperatures down for the most part, while not causing too much mayhem during the day. I’ve been out and about a fair bit. Walking is so easy when the weather is this good.

 

It’s just the best weather for chai, croissants, evening masala dosas, the odd bonda and the like. And this is the glorious window of Bangalore weather I remember loving from my years growing up here. I’ve written endless paeans in praise of the monsoon and all the associated moods — ranging from contemplative to moody to downright hungry and sometimes nostalgic and romantic — when Iw as growing up. This morning, I woke up to rain and almost didn’t make it to the gym because, well, BLANKET. But go I did, because someone’s got to work out all that monsoon-induced binging. It was just so beautiful outside — post morning shower when everything is fresh and wet, dull gold light, greens are greener, streets are empty and it gave me a burst of enthusiasm that getting out was a good idea. No matter that I spent literally the rest of the day, until 4 pm, back in bed doing some work, reading some.

It’s also been a high action four-day long weekend and with VC in town we were up and about even more than I normally am, so I cancelled today in favour to returning to my normal pace again. Given how slow things have gotten for me, the past four days have felt borderline frenetic and even though I desperately, achingly missed VC immediately after he left at 4 am today, I was happy for the day off to come back to normal again.

Things have been slow with me, and the four days of rushing about really put a spoke in my flow. So it’s nice to be listening in to this degree. It’s nice to have weather that fits. It’s nice to stay in, slowly.

One year ago: What good is it to live, with nothing left to give
Three years ago: Manifesting a dream

Up and about

Last week, starting with the weekend, was so great. Much happened, and yet much of my time was spent at home, all by myself, and in silence. Many epiphanies, a slow churn, and some big shifts. And yet, I just didn’t feel like talking about any of it.

I am wondering if maybe it’s just time to talk less, because I do feel another round of going inward has ensued. I’m trying to go with it. And maybe that’s why I’ve been quiet around here. But I also realised that in some measure I felt shut down from all the news around me. It’s just been a lot to process and make sense of.

I don’t usually stay very clued in on what’s going on in this godawful world and country of ours. I am informed, but I don’t really go into anything at length, or in depth. But with the news about Kashmir flaring up like it did, with the lies in mainstream media, and the possibility of staring more violence in the face, I got drawn in.

The trouble with getting drawn in and having literally nowhere no talk about how I feel — real and present fear at the pseudo-democracy we’re becoming — I have totally withdrawn. I am surrounded by chest-thumping ardent supporters of the current fascist regime, and it is getting increasingly hard to see this happen, as well as air even the slightest word of dissent in my surroundings. In addition to the facts about the horrific turn of events in the news everyday, I am also experiencing mild trauma and feeling let down and abandoned by people around me that I thought have better brains, people I thought to be thinking, rational, humane human beings.

It is a lonely place to be. And this kind of fear and hopelessness makes me shut down, which is what happened to some degree last week, and maybe explains my excessive silence.

***

On Sunday last week, D and I went for walk again. We beat our time from just one week ago, for no apparent reason except I feel like it was just such a good morning. The air was crisp, the clouds grey, with just a hint of the sun shining through. It was followed by a breakfast of idli-vada and a strong hit of coffee, as usual, with the requisite giggles — at ourselves and people around us. I realise these are little habits and rituals that have made some parts of living in Bangalore really come alive and mean something more to me.

I managed to catch the live taping of Kanan Gill’s upcoming Netflix Special called Teetar, that happened in Bangalore last weekend. I am thrilled to be finally witnessing so much live stand up comedy — it’s something I wanted to do for years now, but simply couldn’t access the good stuff in Goa.

The show was funny in parts, but didn’t really come together for me as a whole. I eft feeling only mildly entertained, and also a little old. The average age in the audience being much lower, and seeing as how they were hugely entertained with constant rollicking laughter, I think maybe I’m just too old for some of this shit?

I’ll give credit where it’s due though — Kanan Gill was funny in parts and I think it takes some skill to put an hour long special together and make it to Netflix. It also happened that the entire bro-gang of comedians from Kenny to Abish and Biswa showed up and were seated in the row right behind me, making me thoroughly star-struck for a bit.

***

I’ve been feeling an overwhelming love for this city again. I find it hard to explain. Even as things are visibly falling apart, I find myself enjoying being here, I am so much more at ease and something seems to have just clicked into place.

Maybe it is the idea that this life here will somewhat be complete with VC’s return. And maybe the anticipation of it has helped me settle in just a bit. The living between worlds, great as it was, had left me feeling a bit suspended and ungrounded. I feel roots again, tender baby roots that may go any way they please, but for now are happy to be flirting with the idea of being here. Fully. I simply cannot wait for October.

***

I’m still feeling pretty tentative — there’s a lot going on within me that seems to be taking it’s own sweet time to settle. I am in no rush, and I am also aware of how much I am not trying to figure it out this time. Instead, just letting it be and do its thing.

I just have a hunch that big things are in store, changes are afoot. I feel the stir of that subtle movement that is slowly gathering pace. Like a small gentle lapping patch of water that travels miles before it turns into a gigantic wave.

One year ago: I request another dream
Two years ago: What coming home feels like: finding new comfort in old places

Three years ago: Ele day

Wash-out

Today, a lot happened and I had three different things I wanted to write about. But somehow the day just got ahead of me — errands in the a.m., Netflix and chill in the afternoon and then a long-ass marathon 4 hour study/practice session with D & S. (I’ve gotten so much reading — for the course — and practice in this week, I feel pleased) And then I stepped out for an early dinner with my dad, and came right back to Netflix some more.

Something is happening here. As life seems to be opening up and moving, that old familiar quiet seems to be coming back again.

Perhaps it’s also the weather — grey, dull and constantly rainy. It brings a lethargy with it. Today I even skipped going to the gym. It’s making doing things a tad difficult, encouraging me to stay under the covers in bed, reading or Netflixing, for large parts of the day.

Take, another song to fill in for today’s post. Something I have on repeat a lotttt. Because, this weather.

I guess I’m writing off today as a wash-out, a dud, in terms of writing here.

One year ago: July
Two years ago: What coming home feels like: kinship, quietude and becoming