Soul Curry

A few years ago, I remember telling someone that the city I had just moved to was devoid of any noise at 2.30am. A far cry from the city I had moved from: A vibrant, lively and oh-my-God, awake city at any time of night, or day. I remember standing in this friend’s balcony at that godforsaken hour, hoping for a romantic moment (that never, ever, sadly happened) and missing home. Missing the sounds of trucks trundling by, of cars honking, and familiar sights of usually illicit lovers slinking away under the cover of darkness.

Of course, all that I was granted at that time was a chaste kiss and a pristine goodbye. I returned to my hole, and sat wondering what it was all about that made one give up a lifetime and move amidst strangers? The excitement of another life, the expectations of new beginnings or just running away from failures? The hope that the lacunae will be taken care of now, or the wish that chained dreams will now finally be unchained?

Of course, while I thought of all this and felt that I was going through a few profound moments, a two and a half year old kid sauntered into my room. Actually, part crawled in is more like it. He stood there, blinked at me and then just gawked. I thought a revelation was in order, going by the deep thoughts in my head… Well, they were only in my head. The thoughts, that is.

Because the kid then proceeded to crawl out, ferret about a bit and then sort of return on all fours, clamping a li’l teddy between his almost-not-there-teeth. The adorable tot then looked up at me with limpid eyes, made gestures that I should pick him up and mewled in baby lingo. Also drooled quite a bit, much to my discomfort.

People, I am human. I picked up the tot. Dropped the teddy in the proceedings, and then finally managed to get both on board. The bed, that is. Then I sat back and watched the kid play with his teddy. The latter, which I then discovered was automated, kept doing his own thing. And accordingly, so did the tot. The teddy went one way, the tot followed it. And then then changed directions when the teddy went the other way. This went on for a while, and my craving for a stiff drink increased by the nanosecond. Till the duo reached a stage where the tot grabbed the teddy, adjusted himself into a different position and then peacefully played on.

I gawked at the kid as the alcohol-deprived brain started processing important information. You want to turn a situation around, you got to grab it by the legs. You can play along for a while with what life dishes out… But at some point, you’ve got to take the reins in your own butterfingered hands. The tot eventually fell asleep with the teddy clutched tight. And I stumbled into the sandman’s land too, with the determination to make things work my way.

And yes, I did hear some noise before I entered zzzland. Erm, my insomniac family stirring next door. And early risers gargling away blissfully in the neighbourhood. I knew a barter had been struck… Just didn’t realise that it could have been a tougher deal than I had bargained for….

Ok then, hopefully you’ve gotten over the smarminess of the last post. That’s as nice as I can be. I mean, really. I tried. Hard. Honestly. It came across, right? Right?? Right???

You disagree? Really? Fine then. Spend a night with a 28-day-old puppy who wants to pee everywhere, whines post each pee break and tugs at your heart strings with each head bump on the centre table.

Or a day with a man who makes all your dreams come true… In a drunken state. Not your’s. His. That’s right, honey. He says the most diabetic things possible, and then forgets them the next morning. And then, post the sugar rush, he goes back to the woman of his dreams. In his dreams, or your reality. The effect is the same. Your headiness finds a new low. Where all you can do is wish him incontinence, impotence, and the occassional imperfect performance.

Caught your attention? It did, right? Yep, we’ve all been through that one… The oh-my-god-he-has-to-love-me bit… But guess what, sugarbun, he doesn’t have to. After the couch combustions, he really doesn’t have to whip out anything else.

You do. Your arsenal needs more arms. Or legs. Or just balls to bust his business.

Or just a couple of minutes to read about angst of every kind. And dish out your own as well. Nothing as uplifting as knowing that there are millions others who at times don’t feel like poking their head out from under the quilt either! Like I didn’t today. I mean I gave the word ‘burrowing’ a new meaning entirely. Poked the head out for a minute, saw the world wasn’t looking entirely welcoming and quickly shut the eyes and went scurrying back into my hole. Only to have visions of a dirty house, an unfed and unbathed self, a feeling of self loathing… Before the list could get any longer, I was slipping feet into slippers and stumbling out to get the newspaper. Just to discover that yet again, the damn parchment was in the neighbour’s house, instead of mine.

So welcome world. Another day. Another drama. Am sure the histrionics will keep me sufficiently entertained and on my toes!

This is a soul that stumbles, crashes into things, falls face (or soul) down, gets up and limps ahead. A soul that de-activates smoke detectors on a regular basis, breaks every rule possible and yet, lives to make mistakes, daily.

This soul is dorky. It hates drama, but is always centerstage in one. It hates histrionics, but has a pseudo degree in one. It hates confessions too, but has a soul-felt need to make a few. Normally, at the wrong time. When most people want to swig Sangria (or whiskey sours), this soul starts thinking. About days gone by, fleeting moments, frozen seconds that will never melt, no matter what the temperature is. About times when the earth should have stood still, when the rain or snow should have continued pelting and when the car should never have stopped when it did. And about time when this soul should have realised that it’s time to move on…

So, moving on… From doggie drama to boyfriend business, from parents pathos to self’s suckiness, there’s curry for every sort of soul here. Spicey or pungent, staid or saltless, it’s life in a variety of flavours. Solitude or a zoo, you’ve got to curry on… This soul will give you the spice, you sprinkle as much as you need. Daily dose assured. A few smiles, some guffaws, smothered laughter, silent tears… The soul welcomes you, embraces you and promises you a memorable journey!

Welcome aboard.