It’s a sticky stuffy evening, and I kind of wish I was done with my godforsaken project already, if only to enjoy the laziness this weather demands. The other night I woke up around three in the morning, and the first thing that registered in my sleep clouded mind was that my window was open (I generally keep it closed, thanks to some horror movie I had seen about a decade ago) and the next thing that I noticed was the warm summer-night smell wafting in through the window. Taking gulp after gulp of it, like I wanted to fill my soul with the smell, I went back to summers as a kid, when sleeping between my mother and my sister with windows wide open and the moonlight playing with the curtains was the only way to sleep I knew. Each night before sleeping, me and my sister would be well-powdered, with extensive emphasis given on the sanctified ceremony of rubbing talcum on each other’s back. Just like due importance was given to the compulsory pillow fight to decide who would sleep next to Mom. Sometimes at night, when I would wake up from some nightmare, mostly involving ghosts in the school toilets (please don’t ask me why), I would just have to stretch my hand to touch my Mom’s apple-skinned tummy (because it has tiny spots on it just like on the skin of an apple), look to my right to see my sister asleep, and then look outside the window to gape at the moon, and everything would be okay with the world again. And the summer night smell, I believe, had everything to do with it. Even now, summer reminds me of a whiff of roses and jasmines outside our bedroom window, crickets chorusing in sync, and the lavender talcum powder that Mom used to be partial to.
And now I wonder why these thoughts, why today. There are a million things I should be doing right now, and yet, I feel restless, and lazy at the same time. Like my mind is working in slow motion, taking a longer time to deal with stuff, with words coming to me slower than they normally do. And yet, some part of that same mind wishes it could work on complicated calculations and listen to new songs AND try work out that odd alien feeling of indifference and isolation that I am feeling right now. Like I am submerged. And I totally blame this sticky stuffy evening for making me feel like doing absolutely nothing at all.
While last week I was willing my mind to just shut up for a little while, today it seems almost kind of odd to go all la-la-la, like I have nothing in this world to worry about, except dream of summer smells and lazy evenings. But dang, those crickets outside my window are still at it, lulling me into false illusion. And it takes me just the blink of an eye to think of those doggone long power cuts, and how my mother would make the most of the fact that we didn’t own an inverter. I believe we have spent some of the best times as a family during those times, sitting outside with a bisoni (hand fan) in our hands, talking about nothing in particular and yet discussing the entire universe, starting from mythology to religion to politics and sciences, and how somehow it would always end with the singing.
And now my mind flits to the best times I have shared with my sister, when it would be us, her guitar and the rooftop. Under the proverbial great starlit sky. Even though I had hated the start-stop-start thing she’d have going while trying to find out the chords of a song I would be dying to belt out. Hence it wasn’t much of a surprise to me, when last summer, on meeting her for the first time in a long time, the first thing we did was bring out the guitar, and play songs into the dead of the night. Paramore’s “The Only Exception” became an enduring part of summer since then, hand upon my heart.
I have a lot of things I want to do with this summer. Like lovers about to be parted for a long long time, me and this summer have to make the most of what we have. And I can’t wrap my head around the fact that there are two whole weeks to go before I can officially declare my summer holiday on. Even though I also know that by the time I wrap my head around this it will be June already. And blessed June will bring with it many more such lazy fragrant evenings, and monsoon showers that bring out the mush queen in me, and short nights that bring in the morning with surprising haste.
I don’t know if this post even made some sense, but at least I have a sense of accomplishment now.
Write blog post : Done.