Letter to Chhuti XXII

Sweetheart,

Here you are, and how! We are all by ourselves, and for the first time perhaps, it feels an overdose. I wish I could drive around at least. Or, have a chilled beer these afternoons, captured instead by the essence of neem leaves. The idiot box has become more idiot than ever, and thank god for sports that I can still keep it on. Main Prem Ki Deewani Hoon, Yaadein, Mujhse Dosti Karoge -- they are just episodes of extravagant overacting. Even listening to them leave me open-mouthed. I stop writing! I am drinking tender coconut water instead, and without gin in it. And gulping it all down.

Then there are phone-pings, and phone-calls, the unwanted and unnecessary ones I mean. And no whiskey. I talk to the wall. Lovely lilies linger there. White, pristine ones. I walk around them, touching them, feeling them. Awake, I find myself alive, sweating, tired. Chhuti, what is happening? Time has been slotted into medicine names. Lotion has taken over fragrance. It is disturbing, this peace. A peace which does not allow rest. Yes, restless peace. Could give it a piece of my mind, you know!

But why am I complaining? Accept this letter as my loud-thinking. There could be so much that could be done were this a healthy holiday. Believe me, it aches. And it doesn't. I mean, I always wanted this. This off-period forever. And though I am battling an intense weakness, I am writing! I am supporting South Africa, and Pakistan. Both will choke, I know. May be I will too, even with all the creativity I have. 

In the entire day, the best thing I did was encircle the feet blisters in a tiara of neem. In the end, it is as useless as moving another level ahead in Candy Crush, but then, what is actually useful? I have always preferred the beautiful over the useful. The hint over the answer. But, boredom is a thing I could never battle. And as history repeats, it loves me too much. Even with you around, I am bored. Wait. Tomorrow I shall take you to a walk to the lily-land. And we can have a game of 'whose imagination runs wilder'. 

Winning is an attitude, Chhuti.

See -- I write, I win.

K.