I’ve been feeling quite impulsive off late (good joke, I know, I know) and today especially so. Having spent the whole of last night propped on a stack of pillows trying to thump (kept beating it, I did) all the pain out of my wheezing chest and try get at least an hour of sleep, I woke up feeling quite off my rhythm. But then, surprise surprise, it took all of ten minutes (can you believe it…just ten!) to get me back on track. Leave alone back on track, the mood graph soared so high it was in danger of going off the charts. Yes, my capacity to swing between moods at dizzying speeds amazes me at times too.
And what was the miracle mantra? One song called “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus blasting (at the loudest, for good measure) from the speakers, on repeat. Don’t ask me what’s so groovy about that song. Maybe I won’t even like it come tomorrow, but at that moment, I did totally dig the beats that reverberated from my bed (I could feel the vibrations!), the half folded mosquito net my dancing partner as I did a crazy jig waltzing from one corner on top of the bed to the other. The last time I did that was to Sara Bareilles’ “Love Song”, with my unfolded “ex’s guilty gift #15” T-shirt in my hands, sashaying across my hostel room while I did my fortnightly re-organizing of the mess that my wardrobe becomes. I must also have been humming way off key in a falsetto along with it (always happens when one’s got earphones plugged on). Idiosyncratic behavior reaches a whole new level with me, I know.
The next thing that suddenly registered in my mind was that my room was bathed in muted yellow light (courtesy the new yellow heavy linen curtains) and it somehow looked so exquisite….that tiny simple thing lifted me up so much. I mean, in contrast to crisp sunlight that floods my room when the curtains are pulled away, there was a dark and yet warm feel to it. I had these bouts of overwhelming cheerfulness, like I was rediscovering for myself that nothing could be better in this whole world than to be in a yellow-ed room that stood for everything that was snug and comfortable and “me” to me. My space, my room….and hell, MY life. What more do I need?
Ah, well….maybe a hot cup of lemon tea. And so I had that one too. Now this is one thing that I might not have mentioned before (wow….there are actually things like that still left, inspite of my constant yakking) but the next best thing to coffee for me is extra sweet and extra tangy lemon tea. Over the years I’ve had quite a few “Hallelujah!” moments in its company. In fact today was one such day and hence this obviously impatient urge to blurt it all out here. I am such an “ambiance” person. For me, there’s either a perfect one where everything falls in place down to the last detail, or there is none. And right then, sipping lemon tea while nodding my head to good beats in my good smelling room was perfection exemplified to me.
But hang on, there’s more. So while I was sitting on the laptop just starting this post (song had changed to “Pencil Full Of Lead” by Paolo Nutini…another one with amazing beats), I realized the good smell was actually coming from me…from my wrist to be precise, where I had splashed some Clarins’ Eau Tranquility way back yesterday. And by today morning, it had harmonized with baby lotion and the smell of my skin to pale into something that essentially touched me….like a warm feather caressing my soul. It was like yesterday it was a stunningly beautiful woman, one into whose eyes you couldn’t look for long because her beauty was so intense….and today that same woman was bathed in an aura of soft glow, making gazing at her a soothing balm for tired eyes. Does a mere smell do something like this to other people as well? I wonder yet again.
At that very moment I get a phone call from a friend telling me our grades are on display. While I cringe at the mere mention of the end term exams I’d rather forget, he goes on to let me know that they aren’t bad. Well depends, I think. On what one’s idea of good grades and bad grades are. But then, wonder of all sweet wonders, as he reads out my grades, I realize that not only have I managed to sail through without flunking a single paper, I might actually manage to retain my 8 point GPA. Ignoring that ugly little voice inside my head which reminds me that this just means I can’t give up yet, and that I have to keep trying yet another semester to maintain that grade, now that I have miraculously done pretty okay, all I do is hold it close to my heart; the feeling that somehow everything’s all right with the world again.
And as if destiny had conspired to give me one day, just one day of absolute bliss to make up for all the crappy ones I’ve had, after a couple of minutes (and I’ll forever remember the song that I was listening to at that time; Robbie Williams’ “You Know Me”) I get a message in Facebook from a fifteen year old angel I don’t even know, telling me she’d been inspired by the notes I’d written and hence was writing to let me know about it. Now, that, let me tell you, was something. Especially for me, considering how I always wonder if it wouldn’t make more sense to just mail each post of mine to the one brother who religiously reads all my notes.( I honestly feel he’s the only one who has the patience to go through all of my ramblings! ) And I did send a reply to the mail….telling her this same thing, and how the one mail she sent to me was the most precious bit of writing in my eyes, like ever. And that feeling was like liquid chocolate pouring down my core…warming my soul; or maybe like listening to an amazing guitar piece at the start of a song (it’s always the start of a song which takes over me the most), or like a scrumptious vanilla whiff wafting in the air from some far away happy land. It’s not easy to make a mark out there, and I know that too well. But to make a mark on a fifteen year old heart….that meant so much more to me.
Whoever said the morning shows the day must have been belonged to some place where they didn’t understand the concept of unpredictability. I’d woken up with a frown on my face and a croak for a voice, and had known it in my gut that I was doomed to be testy and gloomy the whole day. But I guess a few miracles splashed over the duration of an hour, a long hot bath after that (kept playing with the hand shower till the water started running cold!) and a hot lunch of noodles and soup with lots of pepper, work wonders for the irritated and sick (or maybe irritated because sick?) alright.
P.S. You know what struck me as the most unusual thing in this whole unusual business? That the songs I listened to all this while weren’t even my favorite, “guaranteed to make me smile” ones. They just had good beats. Does it mean I have found out a new recipe yet again for my old, old malady? You bet!