It was almost midnight, floating in light sleep, my mind was glued on the infinite happiness that Robert and Francesca were experiencing (3rd time over). I wanted this moment to freeze; didn't turn the page, let their love last for that one extra night.
The alarm sang 'katra katra milti hai, katra katra jeene do, zindagi hai, behene do...' at four am, I knew it was going to be a perfect day! On my way out to the gym, Borivali station looked spacious, still warm though with handful moving around, dressed in work attire. Darkness was thickening around me, the morning fog settling, twenty minutes and it would be dawn - the photographer in the corner of my mind calculated.
The alarm sang 'katra katra milti hai, katra katra jeene do, zindagi hai, behene do...' at four am, I knew it was going to be a perfect day! On my way out to the gym, Borivali station looked spacious, still warm though with handful moving around, dressed in work attire. Darkness was thickening around me, the morning fog settling, twenty minutes and it would be dawn - the photographer in the corner of my mind calculated.
I held that thought and pulled out the bookmark from the page. The setting and the emotion, I left last night, was waiting for me.
I had to turn the page - it was time.
The scent and words took over, I knew the storm was coming, tears would taste my skin quietly, probably with a little smile now. But not yet, not today.
I reached Bandra, stepped out feeling very heavy, almost sniffing but not crying. I was almost there, but not really there - this time around, I hadn't given in so easily. It felt silly to think that maybe I had matured in 'the reading', a little The impact of those words was similar but I had handled it well - till now. (Robert's letter could prove me wrong, any second).
The last step to the bridge, I saw a faint saffron line rising - 18 mins, two more and the Bandra east skyline will go peach. The color gradation was about to begin. I waited to see the sharp orange form, sighed as people hurriedly dodged me. I imagined how the orange would look from Banganga, and called Drama King.
He was on his way and relatively in a better mood. “I will be there mademoiselle, in just 3 minutes.” I prepared myself for his, “who wakes up this early, its an obscene time? It's not even morning! You make me do crazy things. I am so irritated, you know I am not a morning person. What the f***, my phone is naked, where is the cover, you vile woman, you ate it? It drives me mad. Mademoiselle, why can we not do this at a sane time, like eight or so?”
I reached Bandra, stepped out feeling very heavy, almost sniffing but not crying. I was almost there, but not really there - this time around, I hadn't given in so easily. It felt silly to think that maybe I had matured in 'the reading', a little The impact of those words was similar but I had handled it well - till now. (Robert's letter could prove me wrong, any second).
The last step to the bridge, I saw a faint saffron line rising - 18 mins, two more and the Bandra east skyline will go peach. The color gradation was about to begin. I waited to see the sharp orange form, sighed as people hurriedly dodged me. I imagined how the orange would look from Banganga, and called Drama King.
He was on his way and relatively in a better mood. “I will be there mademoiselle, in just 3 minutes.” I prepared myself for his, “who wakes up this early, its an obscene time? It's not even morning! You make me do crazy things. I am so irritated, you know I am not a morning person. What the f***, my phone is naked, where is the cover, you vile woman, you ate it? It drives me mad. Mademoiselle, why can we not do this at a sane time, like eight or so?”
I decided not to scold him today, not get back or mock; i was going to bear his irritation, today would be different. Years later, when we will not have time for friends, - we would miss these early mornings, we would miss the madness! i would miss this crazy irritating menopausal Drama King.
As I waited under the blinking red light, the azaan ended. Sunlight started to wipe the moon out. Some vendors were cleaning their shop's footsteps; and far away someone was baking naan. The car halted in front of me, honking, signaling me to step in. He looked at me and exclaimed, as I lowered the music volume, “Oh, my god, mademoiselle! It's that book again! are you going to cry? I could give you my shoulder but your colored tears will ruin the white linen.”
His morning voice sounded like a big brass bell on a nubile reindeer in a winter sky - amused, irritating and ecstatic! I smiled and forgave the arsehole of a guy that he is!
As I waited under the blinking red light, the azaan ended. Sunlight started to wipe the moon out. Some vendors were cleaning their shop's footsteps; and far away someone was baking naan. The car halted in front of me, honking, signaling me to step in. He looked at me and exclaimed, as I lowered the music volume, “Oh, my god, mademoiselle! It's that book again! are you going to cry? I could give you my shoulder but your colored tears will ruin the white linen.”
His morning voice sounded like a big brass bell on a nubile reindeer in a winter sky - amused, irritating and ecstatic! I smiled and forgave the arsehole of a guy that he is!
