“CALVIN: This whole Santa Claus thing just doesn’t make sense. Why all the secrecy? Why all the mystery?
If the guy exists why doesn’t he ever show himself and prove it? And if he doesn’t exist what’s the meaning of all this?
HOBBES: I dunno. Isn’t this a religious holiday?
CALVIN: Yeah, but actually, I’ve got the same questions about God.”
Bill Watterson

While I stayed with P and we talked about a catalog of things, we also swapped a few notes on our hobbies no matter how scantly observed. P has a coloring book for adults that she bought after reading about its proclaimed benefits that include inducing calm. She also got herself a pack of Steadtler color pencils. I told her about my Urdu learning and how my pencil uses are different. Incidentally, my Secret Santa got me a pack of color pencils too, and well…I.am.so.excited. But it would be unfair to paint a rosy picture about conversations between P and I. All of the wonder and colour is interspersed with cynicism and morbidness. I think it’s only fair. One must not get carried away with tinkle bells and silver horses. So, when we spoke about the current world scenario, P said to me, and I think this is genius – that we’re all looking at world events in a very scattered way. She said, and I paraphrase, “What if, just what if we are missing the big picture, and that all this is interconnected? All the violence, asinine political leaders, upheavals, and show-sha? I’m telling you we’re making a mistake by thinking all this is not connected.” And that has made me less jaded about the current world scenario. What if this is all a part of a huge plan? It sure gets me stoked to think so!

Coming back to routine hobbies, I have come to the end of my first Urdu writing book. I am finally writing small words. And now, I may be able to start reading some Urdu. It’s all very self-congratulatory. P also gifted me a book of 100 Lyrics by Gulzar. And I have received some lovely Christmas gifts. My friends are the best Santas ever! But then, that’s who Santa actually is. I’ve received a pack of Steadtler colour pens, Steadtler colour pencils, a hairband, a pilot pen, a huge sketch of horses, a book, and of course dark chocolate. I am in desperate need of a house to keep my ever expanding jaydaat.

It’s easy to have a set of beliefs that the world will challenge so much that you won’t be able to recognize them anymore. But, holding on to what you believe? Yes, that’s what quotes on images are made of. On a serious note, ever since I have returned from this trip, I have reaffirmed my faith in investing in a house. I believe with all the atoms in my body that I need my own home and it will be splashed with light, books, colour, character, curtains, cushions, rugs, and cutlery and lamps wouldn’t hurt, too. I love home furnishing stores and I could buy everything that’s on display. From the bath range to the kitchen collectibles to the sparkling decor, I wouldn’t stop. I could buy the store, but where’s the house to put all that in? Just where? Sigh. But then again, you have to see the wonder of a well done house to believe in the magic of curtains or the dust on the bookshelves. It’s one of the most important things one can do in their lives.

I met a friend last evening after 6 years. After college. After a change of country. After a long time had passed. But I still bite my nails. And he still can’t get the gender right when he speaks in Hindi. It’s weird how sometimes you can quietly slip into being a person you’ve always known yourself to be and others can recognize. It doesn’t happen often and when it does, I wish you’re able to identify yourself. No matter how fleeting. This friend got me, among other things, a delicious, beige body lotion. It is like a warm Christmas evening powdered with warmth and cinnamon sprinkled in the air, and well, on your nose too. Suffice to say, I love it. I’m not a body lotion person, but this had me jumping through imaginary mistletoe hoops.

If I could smell like a vanilla soaked, castor sugar dusted muffin…well…I already do.

Merry Christmas, and go easy on the sugar dusted muffins.

Poetry in Script

Poetry in Script

Because we don't have snow

Because we don’t have snow

An Attempt

An Attempt