I prefer diary to blog because the former lends a personal touch to a virtual space and sounds less absurd than the latter when preceded by “Dear”. Anyway, I feel motivated enough to write to you today. It’s probably owing to all the reading I’ve been up to lately, and more so to do with Chbosky’s lucid style of writing in “Perks of Being a Wallflower”, that I’m currently hooked to (for a second time).
January is about to end soon and that amazes and disappoints me simultaneously. I can’t lay a finger on what exactly disappoints me about the month ending so soon, but I’m amazed because it feels like I bid 2015 goodbye just yesterday. This month was headlined by a memorable industrial visit to Bangalore and some unexpectedly good academic grades. I feel rejuvenated and happy with myself (which isn’t something I feel too often). Moreover, somewhere in my heart I wish to go back to this city, despite its loathsome traffic and pollution.
It’s the 26th of January today, and I was almost inclined to catch the annual Republic Day celebrations in my locality. But, I ended up missing it thanks to my poor timing and equally pathetic decision making skills. I don’t know if I’ll be home around this time, next year. It’s a bittersweet contemplation laced with relief. A part of me has been growing intolerant of the excruciating familiarity around me which includes my surroundings. It has been gradually preparing me to handle change. Another part of me still refuses to let go of the comforts of living at home and demanding filter coffee on a whim. And as cliched as this sounds, only fate will decide what it has in store for me.
As mentioned earlier, I’ve been reading a lot, regardless of the genre. Resuming good old reading habits is akin to meeting old friends; a phrase or a sentence is enough to infuse you with nostalgia, paving the way for old memories which otherwise lie in the nooks and crannies of your head, gathering dust. I’m beginning to appreciate the idea of Kindle though it’s no match for the texture and smell of fresh or old pages. I fervently hope this isn’t another passing phase. I don’t think I’ll ever have a problem getting attached to books. It’s people and their complexities that stress me out. Of course they do so with my permission but I haven’t figured out a way to say no.
The sky has begun to look prettier these days, especially at around seven in the morning and at around six in the evening. There have been some days worth remembering, not particularly for an occasion but simply for the weather, like last Sunday. I spent it with Saudamini, loitering in Koregaon Park, in hopes of finding a good dress at one of the boutiques. It was one of those winter afternoons defined by a brilliant blue sky that contrasted with the glistening, sun-kissed leaves of the trees lining the lanes. Such was the bliss induced by the atmosphere that even the passivity displayed by the store owners in their attempts to cater to us couldn’t ruin it. Such days are meant for reminiscing, for listening to your favourite song and imagining yourself to be in a scene from a movie. Such days are meant for basking in the company of your close friend. Such days are meant for pausing, for being conscious of the moments that solace you.
My visits to ‘Coffee Jar’ have become regular. I don’t think I have ever frequented a cafe as much as this one. The coffee is great and the prices are affordable for someone who buys coffee as much as thrice a week. Add an occasional cheesecake or a brownie to that. I meet Saudamini very often these days. She makes me happy. I need more people like her in my life. Oh, she also has a great sense of style.
It’s funny how things change in a month. I’m quite sure my rants portray me as a sullen person. It’s true that gloom impels you to flush out your angst on a blank space. On the other hand, the vibes that a good book or a good day effuses is enough to make you spread some warmth through words.
That’s all for now. I’ll write again, soon.