The streets and the wafting scent,
Of piping hot coffee and the plethora,
Of pockets of taste – crispy, crunchy and spicy.
The hustle on the road and the bustling crowd,
Two wheelers squeezing through the pavements,
And the honking and the havoc.
The roadside vendors, the pull carts,
The aroma of life and the flavors of being,
And the lazy walk maneuvering the chaos.
They say it’s happening, they say life is on,
They say it’s all the same and ever the same.
The streets are the same, but bleak and grey.
Being stupid is perilous? Being called an idiot. Being taken advantage of. Being easily skipped over. It must be a hard life being stupid aka an empty head. Then again, how would I know. I am not stupid. But the head is almost empty. Barely some strands of hair and that’s it. And that’s usual for my age, totally. But then it was not a big huge deal for me for a really long time.
It was a weird feeling though. People would just randomly start staring at my baldness mid-conversation and just wouldn’t stop. That was very awkward. You’d relate better if you are woman when I say this. You know those instances when someone’s gaze would travel down your neck and stop further down at an uncomfortable angle. Well, I had the twin challenge. I had to resist people’s eyes wandering neither north nor south of my face. Trust me that’s an absolute challenge with an average face! It’s not like people get caught in their trails with ‘looks’!
People would eventually stare and offer their condolences for my ‘passed’ hair strands. Some offer oil prescriptions on the go. Some offer exuberant hair therapies. And there was this one lady at the railway station once, couple of years ago. She offered to make an offering to a local ‘hair-specialist’ goddess for my sake. That warmth indeed shook me, and I am pretty sure I have already written about her. Apart from some rare crazy moments, it’s mostly an annoying experience to hear people lament about hair.
Lately, have been feeling bad about it myself. Probably because it’s all locked down and there aren’t much people to whine over my hair, that I thought it’s my turn now. I could use some more hair perhaps!
P. S. All references of self-loathing should be ignored as side effects of having too much time to stare at the mirror, even while on office calls. It’s all about working things out from home after all.
Lately, I’ve been complaining too much about boredom. To myself, to people who care enough to ask, and to myself again. Like, I’ve never been this bored in my whole lifetime. So much bored that, even saying out that I’m bored is a tiring boring exercise. But, as a matter of fact, I’ve not sat down for a minute, idle and relaxed. All day, I’m on a cleaning spree. Like my home is never swept or cleaned. Like, nothing is organised here. Like, my home is a total mess and that I’ve to start from the scratch. But none of that is true. I’ve a moderately neatly maintained home and clean surroundings. May be it’s my boredom kicking my ass, and making me toil like I’m to do something ‘big’ about my cleaning activities every day. Like, I’ve co authority to report to. Even before bed, I’m not getting the usual retrospective times. I’m busy blogging, making up to the challenge.
So, I’m busy like an ant. And Yet, unmistakably bored. To the core. I’ve more assignments. You want your home cleaned, or book shelf organised, or furniture re-arranged? You could contact me. But then, I’m kinda busy here. So next time may be?
Of all the cleaning and dusting, there are some special things I’m so proud of. One, I got an awesome and elegant setting for my books and the library they constitute. Two, three, so many in between. The last and the most special thing is this old picnic table that climbed all the way down the attic to my balcony, with this welcoming umbrella shade! I’m so worked up that I still haven’t found an ideal moment of peace to go to the balcony and relax on my umbrella chairs!