therunawayjuiceincident

Another ode to Bombay!?
I must be on drugs.

I woke up this morning to an article by Gordon Marino on Tenderness. He talks about how all the great philosophers have spoken volumes about love, lust and even erotica, but have always left tenderness aside, with its arms waving, at the back of the class, waiting to be noticed. And how it is so important for love. Of any kind. It’s the subtlety of tenderness, the fact that it props love up, that makes for it to seem not that important.

It was a beautifully written article which immediately snapped me into a terribly good headspace.
I started to think of all the people that I’ve managed to surround myself with. That it is a good life, if I get to share it with these fine people.

I’m sure it could happen anywhere. I’m sure there’s somebody sitting in another corner of the planet, thinking the same thing.
But it happened to me in Bombay.
And I could fly far away someday, be in another time, but look back at this city, and feel a kind of love that might remain unmatched.

Don’t get me wrong, most days I want to hold Bombay’s neck and choke it, while shaking it from side to side with rage till it learns how to behave (I’m going to make a GREAT mother).
But on the days when I don’t want to napalm this city, it’s beauty dazzles me enough to want to wear palmtree shades. At night. While hanging out at 24 hour Wellness Center Disco in Bandra. While eating no sugar (but lots of carcinogens!) ice cream. And comparing feet. To figure whose were the prettiest. I lost. And have the guard say “aage badho”, after an hour of our cackle had killed his mojo.
That’s what I’m going to remember.
That’s love.
And I’m going to Socrates my way out of this by leaving tenderness still sitting at the back of the class, making paper planes.

And for the record, peacocks have ugly feet too, but wow look at the rest of them.

I got really sick last week.

Sicker than I’ve ever been. Enough to get me into a hospital and get meds through an I.V.
Which was sort of cool.

My parents had to fly down and come fetch me. And I didn’t fight them.

I usually fight them over things like this.

“I can handle it.”

“Guys I’m not 4.”

“Yes, I’ve eaten.”

“I’ll manage. Don’t worry.”

“Yes, I’ve eaten.”

“Yes, I slept enough.”

“No, I’m not sick.”

“It’s just a cold.”

“Yes, I’ve eaten.”

This time I just wanted them around. I came back to Bombay and went straight to theirs, to my old room, instead of my apartment. And I was home. Safe.

It’s been a perfect week. I’ve watched a ton of movies, eaten enough sugar to make myself sick again, slept at odd hours during the day, stayed in my pajamas for two days, not bathed for as many, haven’t looked at my phone much, kicked Dhruv a lot, pulled out my ‘I’m so sick, please lets change the channel’ card, pulled my ‘I’m so weak, get me a bottle of water/chocolates/keep my plate in the kitchen/let me sit on that chair/change the channel/cough poor me/’ card. And more than anything I realized that I hadn’t spent an entire week at home in 3 years, stayed in my old room with the disco ball, with a stereo system with enough flashing lights to give me epilepsy, or hung out with my folks every evening, giving them gossip, which they don’t really care about but will listen to intently nonetheless.

I knew I was better today because I decided to clear out some junk from the drawers and my desk. Three massive bags full of papers, cases, expired warranties, scratched cd’s, beads, so many beads, dried up nailpaint etcetra. Then I found this old box that had this twist ceramic soldier & castle thing. You know the ones which you twist and put down and they turn round & round and play music (There’s got to be a shorter way of explaining this. Miniature carousal toy?). Anyway, this toy was going to go with all the other junk, but since it didn’t fit in one bag, I set it down to look for another bag. As soon as I did that it went ‘ting!’. I stopped looking for a bag and just stared at the box. It was atleast 28 years old. There’s no way it could have worked after all these years. I picked it up and put it down with a little more force again. ‘ting ting!’

It was alive.

After all these years.

I was on my knees, just staring at the box now.

I opened it; inside, the toy was wrapped in a striped red and white shrug, which belonged to my mother. I unwrapped it and there it was! The little soldier boy and his little castle. Not a scratch. Nothing missing. I twisted it, wound it up and put it down. And there it was, the tune from a million years ago. My entire childhood came rushing back. It was fascinating to feel that.

I kept winding it and playing it throughout the cleaning process. When I was done, it was wrapped in its red and white shrug and put back in the drawer. I’ll give it another 28 years.

9 days ago when I was miserable in hospital greens, wondering when my fever would hit anything below 104, I had no idea that the following week would wipe out all my made up worries and give me 7 days of absolute peace with no unnecessary noise. All I needed was to be around three of my favorite people and be willing to go back to basics.

Face down sleeping with drool helps too.