Hmm

I can understand where the resentment towards my new home comes from.

Mistake me not – it is a fantastic place – a lot better than what I could have hoped for, very comfortable, the landlord also threw in some durables and basic furniture as a part of the deal, and I have been sleeping like a log for the last two nights (touchwood). When I stepped in for a shower last night, the water hit me hard and massaged my back – and I sighed, I forgive you Big G. The servant came in early in the morning on Sunday and together we sat at the balcony – she had her tea, I had my coffee. It has been all perfect.

But it feels completely out of place. It is almost like growing out of an old skin – I know I worked hard to get this deal, but somewhere, there is a sense of regret. Do I see Life Bohemia slipping away? Do I see myself settling in, in sombre, mundane, ritualistic domicile harmony?

***

I sat on the stairs reading the new Art magazine I bought. It is called 'Art & Deal', written in a stylized way on a solid grey-silver background on top and 'Markers of Indian Art – 25 works that shaped History' at the bottom. A colleague walked past.

She: Hi, what are you reading
Me (most uninterested): Oh, just a magazine

She: Is it about fashion?
Me (I show her the cover): Err.. no art

She: Fashion?
Me: No, its fine arts

She: Oh, you don't know?
Me: Yes, I just about started reading



Frikking philistines.