by the way, i have started working. again. left the earlier one. could not take the five hours cumulative travelling.
so yes. was doing what everyone else does at the workplace. looking up photographs and chatting with people clandestinely!
saw this photostream on flickr –
it has been a long time since i came back from london. and as i tell leena almost every other day, not a single day has gone by since that i haven’t missed the goddamn city! and seeing this made me miss it all the more.
wearing six layers of clothes, muffler, gloves, woollen socks, trying to keep my eyes up against the cold wind blowing in my face, feeling the tips of my ears starting to die –
walking through fresh snow, feeling the water seep through the broken right shoe sole that made a squeaky noise on the pavement, trying to decode the intricate snowflake patterns on car windows and tops, tossing the few pounds coins around in my jeans pocket, exhaling very slowly just to watch the vapour swirl out from my dry mouth –
going out to buy coffee in the morning snow, scrunching up into a ball the snow gathered on a car park railing, tasting it, keeping it in the fridge, standing in the kitchen balcony at night listening to snow falling on leaves, ever ever so lightly, turning all lights off and listening to nusrat fateh ali khan’s night song, his voice filling my tiny room and going out and mixing with the snow and settling down on the grass and going into the earth and through all the mess and the wires and the tubes and reaching the core and spreading out like warmth, his voice filling me with longing, with a sweet pain that only he knows –
wanting to gather the snow from a car top and not gathering it in fear of the siren going off, sitting in ameya’s room in his blue blanket and talking about hitler and art and music and mithunda, watching prateeksha frolic in the snow, not wanting to go back, making patterns out of shoe prints, sitting in her room drinking coffee –
almost walking on the frozen serpentine, walking in hyde park for seven minutes, not wanting to get out of bed at five thirty in the evening, heating frozen fingers over the gas flame, seven friends eating from one plate –
never wanting the snow to melt, watching it trickle down the pavement outside francoise’s deli –
never wanting to leave –