Rendezvous under the Sun

Now it has become more convoluted. The blood pressure has gone down, temperature and temperament swing upwards and downwards. The latter swings sideways too.

I sit, in a place that sees 24 degrees Celsius right now, on a cane chair, in the shade, and my feet jutted out getting roasted in the sun. My feet feel cold despite the hot sun almost scorching it. This is the start. This will continue till about third week of February. *I so love winters*

I love routine existence even more. So predictable, fuzzy, warm and nice. Regularity and the mundane are also so exciting.

Ha.

In a very hermit-ish mood. But that goes against the season. And against summons of socializing. With relatives, with friends, with alcohol. Or maybe, the other way to look at it would be to get drunk to the point where I only feel nausea and the only other thing to do is to sigh and sleep.

I will think of something nice. Something that will cheer me up. Is that possible?

***

Geneva
About 2002-3

I had picked up a flower on the way to the office. No, literally, off the road. It was just lying there, half wilted. I just had to pick it up and carry it along with me.

I got into the lift. A man got in to the lift after me.

He said: "Une fleur qui porte une fleur... c'est toujours jolie"

I grinned.

I spoke about European men here.

***

My feet are very cold now.

***

I look at my bonsai. It has stopped flowering. No, completely stopped. Last year, it flowered thrice – in summer, autumn and in winter. It was crazy. But I loved it. Bright red colour chilli hibiscus flower against the dark green leaves. This year it didn't flower at all.

In fact, it was on the verge of death earlier in the year because of my constant travels. Then I devised a way to keep it watered despite travels. I just got a tub, filled it with water and placed the plant pot into it. So it would get its share of water all the time.

But it does not flower anymore.

As with everything else in life, one mistake, one little miss and the situation is unforgivable. The situation is reversed for good and never does one get the opportunity to make amends, to explain.

***

I will not regret.

***

Next month will see an insane and hugely fatiguing amount of travelling.

I love flights though. Some childish excitement and joy that I get out of flying.

The last time I was getting into an aircraft a thought crossed my mind: about a hundred years ago – or even less – say in our grand parents' time, who would have thought that common people like you and I would be able to fill ourselves into something that looks like a capsule with wings and fly all over the place?

***

Age: about 7 years

We are waiting for our boarding call. Flight has been delayed. Restless as ever, I pester Ma to give me 'something to do'.

Ma says, go to the big window there and count till 100.

I walk to the window and stare at the aircraft that face me. I stand there and stared at its enormity, its perfectly smooth edges, the perfectly rounded ‘nose’, the nicely done up windows, the many latches that the wings appear to have. I try to imagine the uses for each of the appendages that I see.

I forget all about the counting. After a point I get yelled at by Ma... time to board the aircraft.

***

My feet are still very cold, and the sun has decided that it has given me enough attention and has decided to move on.

A sense of déjà vu that I feel here.

I will go in now.