Monday, January 28, 2013


It is a gift - a mind that thinks and questions. As I walked into that gargantuan marriage function after a train ride, I couldn't help but wonder if the 1000 odd people there actually cared for the married couple. I'm pretty sure they didn't. I disdain this show, this farce, this parade for the benefit of an ogling audience which munches on copious amounts of digestibles. I wore a simple kurta and jeans and I saw people uncomfortable in tight clothes of western origin - I smirked as the wind found its way up my kurta and de-stressed me. A few pleasantries exchanged and luckily I met my childhood friend who was getting married; customs dictate that I wait by and get a photo clicked with him and his wife. Luckily, I didn't care for that. He saw me and I had come there because he was a nice childhood friend, who after years away still took the effort to invite me to his marriage functions. I am sentimental (and mental) and I do these things. I hold on to simple memories and I like keeping my word.
I walked out and decided to walk to the station, through people on the pavements, people huddled around a fire, a naked child and the filth of Mumbai metres away from a lavish spread of people. I sang a little song at my lips, crossed the street and found my way back home.
I had accepted a certain fact - that I was going to be stuck here, but something seems to have changed. It may be momentary but my longing mind reaches out to the years ahead and hopes against logic.

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