April 10, 2006


It has not been a spectacular Sunday. How can it ever be that when it is so swelteringly hot as it is these days. But it was one of the better ones. I woke up feeling unlike the usual congested self. Still, I coaxed myself into inhaling some steam spiked with Karvol Plus that still kicks like the wildest of mares on the first few inhalations. Then I finally managed the energy to kick start and move the motorcycle from the position of rest it had assumed many months ago. And after having watched What A Girl Wants, for reasons still unclear to me (okay, I'll admit, the girl is pretty in a weird sort of way), I set out on a walk that ended up being quite long, in excess of five kilometres, bought some fish and cooked it, stuffed my face, watched Desperate Housewives and Lost and here I am.

See, the funny thing is that I do like being alone and doing things for myself. I like the space and the freedom it gives me and the concept of catching up with yourself after a terrible week of surviving your own very fucked up state of, physical and emotional, affairs and actually just relax, give up and not do much to a set plan. But I do miss having someone around -- not to pick up my dishes, not to cook for me, not to give me a shoulder to cry on -- but just the physical presence, of being able to hug, hold and generally feel wanted. No, I am not talking about sex here, even though that is also a bona fide need, but this is different and hard to explain. You know, just silly stupid things like sitting together, having coffee and not doing much else. Is that weird?

I do not know if everyone feels so emotionally raw most of the time or if it is just me. Probably I should not be asking these questions since I have been making a conscious effort of late to stop the obsessive analysis of everything. And it is nice to close your eyes and not have the cacophony of thoughts swell up in front of you. Strangely, I can't bring myself to write anything more beyond this. Funny, is it not, how the verbal juices dry up totally when there is nothing sad or terrible to write about? But I am hauling up eyelids and with a great deal of effort looking beyond the immediate arid landscape. If miracles are truly possible, this is your chance. Please do appear in whatever form or shape you can afford to do that. I shall only be too welcome to have you in my life.