There isn't a school that teaches you how to dress your house. Where to put the flowers, would pink go with red, and should a bookshelf be dark wood or light? There isn't a school that teaches you how the sunlight should fall. The curtains should fluff. The beads should jangle in the wind. Where to leave the stool? Where to buy the stool? And, how long does it take to find the stool? There are days without chairs-and days without tables- and days of tea cups on white floors. No school tells you how you must make do.
How you must feel when your special friend ties the knot. Must you be tied up in a knot, too? Should you watch her, or should you cry? Should you begin to hope, or give up hope? Should you feel nothing else- but be happy for her? Or, should you mingle her happiness with your own, her security with your insecurity. There isn't a school that teaches you how to feel.
And, how to not fear. How to watch the moon and hear the sounds of the night and know that yours will be quiet. There will be no strangers in the night. Do you sleep better in the mornings? And, do you fear sitting on a bench, in the night wind - a garden overlooking a terrace. Do you climb to the terrace, despite the fear? No school braves you this.
How to know when it is love? How to know if his hand will now linger over yours- how to know today is your day. How to know when it isn't love. How to cook eggs- perfect, fluffy white with cheese- when the moment demands it. How to talk enough- not little, not too much. How to listen. And, then how to say thank-you.
How to make conversation with your house-help. How not to fear strangers. How to show love when you are far away. How to send flowers. No school teaches you this. And, still you- restless souls- want to still go to school. I hear, again and again- how you must, and want to, and someday will go to school again.
Go home. Leave home. Embrace life. You will be in school again. My thoughts, this Monday.
[More Monday Musings here
Monday, March 15, 2010
Monday, March 08, 2010
Monday Musings - 36
I like walking in the grass. It makes me think of my white sneakers, soiled with time. Their pink laces with black spots gleaming like lights in the distance. It makes me wonder why you wash your sneakers at all? I like mine worn out. Marked with a little bit of everywhere they've been. And, then I wonder why you like your books untouched, unscathed, clean? I much rather like them soiled, and crumpled, with tears, or trickles of laughter and thoughts sliding from one page to another- who I was when I read them. I like knowing cities by walking in them.
I like watching its people. The cycle rickshaw wallah - back arched, eyes decieving, sweat trickling down his foreheard when you pay him. The boy at the store - young, and out-of-school who helps you carry your bags. He watches you at the bank. Is he impatient? Does he wonder what you do, and who you are, and where you're from? Or is he thinking about when ever will he step in to the bank?
I like dreaming when I'm walking. I used to be the girl snuggled up behind Malory Towers and St. Clares and live imaginary worlds alone. I used to dream of packing my bags, and setting foot in a strange land. Of secrets on bunk beds, and trips to nowhere, and friends from everywhere. Then, I'd savor the make-believe gingerbread cookies mother sent me. I'd look forward to when they visit, family. Oh, how I dreamed of that day. Waited for the time...
And, here I am walking through the streets and gardens...and here I am alone. The little girl's dream. I can remember the sound of my house in the morning. The clankering of vessels, the doorbells, the in-and-out of vendors, and house-help. I can hear you whisper from long ago. I can hear the wind playing truant outside my window. I can remember the sound of the car engine. The words lost in time. The laughter in closed rooms, and open spaces. If I try hard, I can smell Mumbai, sometimes. I can feel the sunlight cast morning shadows. And, the train chug in the distance.
I am, as if, lost in two dreams, this Monday. And, two worlds. It leaves me wanting endless hours to walk, and sit, and wait and savour. It leaves many cups of chai undone. Will this be over, before I know it? Will I still be left wanting, then? Or, will I then be ready to leave? ~Lately it seems we've been chasing, what times resolved, maybe something means nothing here, after all ~
[More Monday Musings here ]
I like watching its people. The cycle rickshaw wallah - back arched, eyes decieving, sweat trickling down his foreheard when you pay him. The boy at the store - young, and out-of-school who helps you carry your bags. He watches you at the bank. Is he impatient? Does he wonder what you do, and who you are, and where you're from? Or is he thinking about when ever will he step in to the bank?
I like dreaming when I'm walking. I used to be the girl snuggled up behind Malory Towers and St. Clares and live imaginary worlds alone. I used to dream of packing my bags, and setting foot in a strange land. Of secrets on bunk beds, and trips to nowhere, and friends from everywhere. Then, I'd savor the make-believe gingerbread cookies mother sent me. I'd look forward to when they visit, family. Oh, how I dreamed of that day. Waited for the time...
And, here I am walking through the streets and gardens...and here I am alone. The little girl's dream. I can remember the sound of my house in the morning. The clankering of vessels, the doorbells, the in-and-out of vendors, and house-help. I can hear you whisper from long ago. I can hear the wind playing truant outside my window. I can remember the sound of the car engine. The words lost in time. The laughter in closed rooms, and open spaces. If I try hard, I can smell Mumbai, sometimes. I can feel the sunlight cast morning shadows. And, the train chug in the distance.
I am, as if, lost in two dreams, this Monday. And, two worlds. It leaves me wanting endless hours to walk, and sit, and wait and savour. It leaves many cups of chai undone. Will this be over, before I know it? Will I still be left wanting, then? Or, will I then be ready to leave? ~Lately it seems we've been chasing, what times resolved, maybe something means nothing here, after all ~
[More Monday Musings here ]
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