It’s been a while since I felt
like writing. Now that school’s out and I am sitting on a job offer and the
only thing on my mind is to unpack Punjab and pack Bangalore in my overstuffed
suitcases and cartons (how I hate all the packing and unpacking), I have taken
a sojourn to the hills. While I attempt to find peace in the two cottages with
the spectacular view in the depths of Hemingway, I can’t seem to be able to
spend more than ten minutes at a stretch reading For Whom the Bell Tolls. Mum and I took an early morning walk,
taking in the unusual freshness in the air with a tea spoon of chill that is omnipresent
here. There were tiny little pink birds fluttering around, hopping on the
mountainous slopes chi-chiing away without a care in the world. For a place
that is supposed to be fighting incessant forest fires (as per our very
dependable media), there seems to be nothing that could possibly disturb the
peace of these little ones. I get
reminded of the sparrows back home that have gone missing over the past ten
years. Clichéd, but sometimes, I yearn for those simple times when Nim and I would
spend an afternoon giggling in bed, with mum fast asleep in the next room,
listening to them sparrows outside with a bit of the sun trying to force its
way in through the not-so-thick curtains hanging on our window. Back then,
family vacations to the hills were frequent and in hotels, with daily walks to
nearby spots, when I would try to outpace dad while pretending I wasn’t tired
at all and could keep up with his stride forever. Today, as dad and I sit
nursing aching joints, that pair feels like it existed in another time, on
another planet. As always, Nim’s presence is being dearly missed.
While I sit on a couch
contemplating what to write, I hear mum and dad fighting over who needs to
bathe first. Neither budged.
It is now time to return to the
present. I should probably take a shower and get dressed so we can head out
someplace. My undying desire to find a grassy spot with the wind rustling the
blades for a picnic remains unfulfilled. One day, I will find my spot, sit with
a book and a picnic basket and enjoy a lazy afternoon in perfect company. Oh yes,
I always pictured a red and white checkered sheet underneath me while I laze
around. I think I read too many Enid Blytons as a kid. It has ruined my
perception of reality as an adult. Anyhow, if school has taught me anything, it
is that everything is possible if you put in the right amount of effort. I
intend to make this picnic a success someday.
Back to the hills,
Keep calm and move on.
Naina