Monday Musings - 21

As my conversation with her ended, her big bag spilled open, and out came a broken watch and bits of old silver paper. She began then to tell me her story of love, and the watch; I began to think of the things we never leave behind, the things we take with us everywhere we go. Like the smell of hot, burning Suleimani chai at the Prithvi cafe that smells of open hearts, and willing tongues.

Like the old, frayed picture of you and your sister clasping hands, brimming smiles. Like the smell of the city of Mumbai - forlorn, filthy and almost serene. Like images of stairways that lead up to once familiar hallways. Old offices, or houses, or lovers, perhaps.

Like ticket stubs from bus routes once familiar, like train tickets to far away. Like broken bangles you picked up with a once best-friend at the flee market. Like the smell of chlorine from your everyday swimming pool. Like the sound of your house in the morning. Quiet, melancholy? Bursting, bubbling. Like the sound of your house when you return. Like the brush of saltwater as it laces your aching feet.

Like that warm hug you sometimes come home to. Like the smile on your fathers' face. Like movie tickets from our first movie together. Like soiled tissue paper from last night's dinner. Like cement stuck to the soles of your favourite shoes. Like gallis you meander through each day, like laughter you couldn't stop.

Like Smses stored for tomorrow. Like a yellow diary you scribble in, like a tube of drying nail paint you keep, only because your best friend gifted it to you. Like your computer, or your camera, or your bag, or anything it took you awhile to own. Like your first pair of denims you never want to let go. Like your scrawny legs from school.

Like the sound of the arrival of a local train, like the recorded voice that stays in your head, long after. Like bhajji wali banter, like the purring Hello, like the view from your window. Like the slight graze of his hand that forever stays. Like the little pouch, somewhere within, where all lies safely tucked in.

To savour, to go over. Like Mondays with memories, and Mondays with quiet moments. Mondays that remind you of traversing time, of the things you don't let go, never leave behind...

[More Monday Musings here ]