Jibber Jabber

The past three weeks have been exhausting. So much so that my right arm and fingers hurt from the incessant typing and my shoulders ache from crouching over my laptop. Also, I must heavily stock up on sleep this weekend. I write this because I have a debt of honour to pay, and because I have already seen Goliyon ki Rasleela: Ram Leela, which is playing on the TV. I’m a little miffed by the utter tosh that Romedy Now plays on weekends, sometimes. On weekdays, I find it so cheering to watch one of the movies they play and then scoot off to bed. Last week, I saw You’ve Got Mail and The Devil Wears Prada. It is so refreshing to treat my eyes to such loveliness at the end of the day. You’ve Got Mail is such a happy movie. I love, love Meg Ryan in it. Just like I adore her in Sleepless in Seattle. I would love not to read too much into the movie, but it’s so comforting to have someone who you can talk to. You’ve Got Mail gets that.

I woke up at 7:45 am this morning and I forced myself back to sleep as it was a holiday. When I did, I could hear the angel and devil inside me arguing about a thing of monumental importance in my life. I was scared by myself. Although I am aware that I have a dual personality, I cannot recollect it to be so pronounced. I felt one side of me attacking the other. To say the least, I must be careful from myself.

Contrary to my usual weekend activities, I did a lot of cooking today. I chopped more than half a dozen onions into small, equal-sized cubes, cut tomatoes into dices, and I sliced the green chilies slant and a little thicker than usual. I love chopping. That’s the only step of cooking I am an expert at while the rest of it I am yet to learn. I made dal and finished it off with a spicy tadka, and I made a dish of dried Bombay Duck. I have no idea what it’s called in English. I’m not a big fan of Bombay Duck, but I love eating the potatoes in the red gravy that go into the preparation. Potatoes are my religion. I also made pattices and I ate the Chicken Lollipop my mother made. Food wise, a good day.

In the afternoon, I saw 2 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. That I wasn’t in the city last week brought the count to two episodes, and I am glad. Last week’s episode was a little sad. I followed it up with this week’s episode in which Christina Yang is nominated for the highest award in medicine – the Harper Avery. To see her get her mojo back is an absolute thrill. Christina Yang is my heroine. I love her character and I love Sandra Oh for being Christina Yang. I have watched her for ten seasons now. She has been fierce, competitive, genius, happy, lovable, weak, vulnerable, and down in the dumps, in that order. To see her get up and stride forward towards her dream is a very personal feeling. I have felt her wins and her losses. For me, Christina Yang exists, and I love her, and she is sure as hell winning the Harper Avery! (I just hope she doesn’t go back to Burke though, because I have not yet decided if he was the love of her life.)

The rest of the day was slow. My attempts to write a poem were met with failure. I have four drafts of words strung together, but somehow it just isn’t coming together. The poem is supposed to be about a girl who describes the perfect meeting place. I had a restless feeling inside me when I couldn’t mould it the way I wanted to. It tickled and itched, so I left it the way it is, and went back to cooking. I will try my hand at it again. If I don’t complete it, shame on me.

Apart from that I have assignments to complete before Monday. I have extra work to pack in. I could also use some walking now that my work has completely eclipsed my gym routine. However, sometimes, I wonder if it’s just me. Have I slowed down? Is that why I can’t finish everything on my plate? I’m not so sure.

Come to think of it, I have been reading A Clockwork Orange for three weeks, and that has been a touch affair to carry on. When I started reading the book, catching up on the Russian slang entailed some hard work, and now that I have caught up, the reading is progressing extremely slowly. This is why I don’t take up reading challenges. Reading shouldn’t be a task, it should be fun. However, Alex is not making it easy. I just wish he used English slang like Holden Caulfield did. Sigh.

That painful malchik.

Last week, while driving out of the city, I saw a fire in the forest. The forest wasn’t burning, but from what I saw it looked like a mound of something burning in a clearing. The golden flames splattered across the black. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have seen. To me, they looked like embers having a small meeting of their own. Suddenly my mind was full of stories they would be exchanging among themselves. It was just so breathtaking.

I didn’t take a picture of that, but since I was sitting on the back seat, I could see the ground falling as the car zipped ahead. I felt like I was flying. For the longest time, I just back into the distance that I was leaving behind and I saw that it was propelling me onward. I don’t think this picture describes what I saw, but wow, the roads.

The wind falling off my feet.

These weeks have been exhausting, but memorable.

And now, the hand pains.

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