The color blue. And not just any shade. Only sky blue. I know, I know, the sky’s blue changes shades all the time. But the one shade I am referring to is the bright light blue, almost like powder blue? The kind of blue the sky used to be in April, after winter is long gone, and summer is yet to set in. No, I won’t say spring and all; India has three seasons only apparently. The blue which is visible from between the very bright white clouds, at around 10 in the morning. Visible from the terrace back home. You had to squint to look at it; the sun would be bright enough to make you. On holidays and Sundays of course; who do you find loitering on the terrace at 10 AM on a school day, tell me?
Beaches, yes. And when I say beaches, I don’t indirectly mean vacation. I just mean beaches. The vast expanse of the sea, which makes you look like a non-entity, humbles you almost, like they say? And waves, the very sound of them. Rhythmic in its own way. Sitting on the sand, guessing how high the next wave would be. Watching small fishing boats far inside the waters. Walking on the sand, letting the waves just about reach your feet. Or letting go altogether, allowing the waves to splash you all over, not minding the sand deposits in the clothes for once.
And Rain. Cloudy weather, cool breeze, the roar of thunder every once in a while. And the constant pitter-patter of rain drops. Watching the rain from the safe confines of your balcony, while sipping hot tea. Or just listening to the sound of rain, while wrapped in cosy blankets, a book in hand. Or getting drenched in it, looking up towards the sky, welcoming each drop of water that splashes on your face.
Paani puri! The exclamation mark is to mark its special importance, even if it figures late here. No limitations on the number consumed. Water, as spicy as it comes. Not a drop of sweet chutney. Preferred filling, surprisingly the Hyderabadi version of boiled chole, the hotter the better. Boiled potato from the back home version is also good; guess the relatively spicier water makes up for it.
Chocolate. So what’s new you may ask. Nothing really. I am as chocoholic as they come. They who? Women in general I hear. Chocolate in all forms. Bars of Toblerone, the amazing Chocolate Bomb from Little Italy, the equally amazing Sizzler Brownie from Bombay Blues, chocolate ice cream, cakes, pastries, brownies. All of it. Any of it.
Cappuccino from Barista. Not much foam, strong, and really hot. One packet of caramelized sugar. Everyday, at around 3 in the afternoon. Between 3 and 4 actually. And in case it is one of the I-am-not-that-fat days, a muffin. Blueberry, for sure.
Oh, and Books. Lot’s of them, colorful, pretty, bright books. Not necessarily only when I am reading them. They can be just there. That’s good enough. Like, book shops? Neatly stacked, rows and rows of band new, shiny books. Reading excerpts, checking out comments, picking and choosing what you finally want. And then piling it on the ever growing stack at home. And thinking which one to go for next. Of course I intend to finish them all. Someday.
Shopping too. Ok, before you roll your eyes and say ‘Women!’, I am not talking clothes, bags, shoes alone. Obviously, those too. But planned shopping in general is what this is about. Even if it is groceries. Yeah, go ahead, laugh. Making a list, driving down, ticking things off the list. And picking things not in the list; can be anything, an extra pair of shoes, or a box of exotic cheese. Like that.
And of course, music. The tracks you heard for the first time and liked immediately? Or the ones which took a long time to grow upon you, but once they did, they hung on for longer than many others. Or the very rare ones which you hated initially, but grew to love for other reasons. And those, which remind of you of a certain day, or event, or place or person, and bring a smile on the face. And sometimes, tears too.
And lo! I am feeling better already! That song makes so much sense, I tell you J