It's always nice to revisit someplace that you've loved, people who you love, a season that makes you more mellow than any amount of wine could accomplish. Slipping back into the folds of the cocoon of familiarity, you'd almost believe that you'd never left, that the next morning you'd wake up to discover that you'd slept through your lecture on China yet again. So I went back to Delhi, and back to the life of a lazy, indulgent non-worker for just a little while.
What can I say, really? Let the others do the talking for a change.
Kitkat (on seeing me for the first time, at her brother's cocktail party): - "Very nice, very nice, LOVE the shoes".
RR (when she pointed her finger at me for no reason and I burst into gales of laughter): - "Why are you laughing? Only you would find something amusing in this".
Skaty: - "Am I a bad person?"
PS: - "You came? When? Make me tea."
P (ex-roomie): - "Can I smoke in the room?"
Me: - "It is your room now, y'know".
P: - "Noooooooo! It's YOUR ROOM!"
She then proceeded to stick her head out of the door and smoke.
Sister: - "Why in the whole world did you have to find a Bengali boy? Does he wear sweater vests? (Gasp) I disown you".
The train attendant on the way to Delhi was a spitting image of Murli Manohar Joshi, complete with vermillion on the forehead, while the venerable Gujarati matriarch on the way back was the spitting image of A.K. Hangal. Reminds me, does any of you ever remember seeing a young A.K. Hangal? There was an earthquake at 4.30 am in the morning when I was sleeping in my old hostel and I woke up to the familiar sounds of women screaming, giggling and running. I debated getting out of the blanket for five minutes and then went back to sleep. I lost my charger and a brand new dress that was worth a thousand bucks, bought a pair of killer shoes that practically annihilated my feet for over two days, had my phone die on me for three days and happily poached all my friends' phones, didn't meet half the people I wanted to, didn't even have the time to look at the mecca of blueberry cheesecake, the Big Chill. But I also tramped all over Lajpat Nagar shopping all on my own, ate atleast three truckloads of food and painted my toenails a nice shade of mauve. On the way back, I was adopted by a family of fourteen elderly Gujarati people who let me sleep blissfully and took care to see that my food was kept aside for whenever I deigned to eat.
So I'm back, and it's not really too bad. Hopefully there will be ten days every year when I can go back to winter and peace. Next time there will be cheesecake, there won't be earthquakes, and there will hopefully be more time. Oh, and bathroom pipes won't spontaneously burst anymore. Fingers crossed.