There is some yellow paper here and it smells. It smells of white chocolate, dark chocolate, air-conditioned rooms, libraries on winter evenings and sometimes of the old printing press.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Happiness is in looking again
There's been such a long break, I don't even know where to start. Two years have gone by and Christ seems like such a wooly memory in my head. You know how once removed, twice reflected, multiple times relived, it's hard to differentiate between memory and myth. You cherish something so much you gradually start returning to it in every low, then you reimagine it, try to tweak it a little, wish for things that could have been better. The memory changes a little, adjusts itself and you keep revisiting it turns into your favorite story book. Christ was probably one of those, a Grimm tale albeit. But, only traumatic childhoods make for good revenge tales. Coming back, J.N.U and of all places Delhi, are responsible for this happy amnesia.
To be fined for sitting on some pavement versus rolling on the road in merry inebriation, knots loosen. It's so important to let go, if one doesn't by herself, the universe has to be churned for a conspiracy towards it. Of course, learning is one aspect and maybe I learned a lot more back there but, how one sees oneself, the confidence and the ability to speak up again without being made to write apology letters is something that took two whole years to regain.
This is not some public note to start loving or looking at places like Delhi positively. Places don't exist really, people don't either. It's just a moment in your head or those changing days and months, the things they bring, your fights and troubles. Simply put, it's myth and memory. If the former weighs heavier, it's a signal to move on and find a better place to live outside your head. It's also funny that most of what I wrote came so easy back then. Probably, side effects of talking to oneself for eight hours a day, at the end one has a lot accumulated to say. Here, there's nothing to fight, no one to resist, all in a lazy hazy perpetual Woodstock. I've liked Delhi maybe because of where I stay. So, while I know not what awaits in the next few months to come, here's a half baked blog revival and some cool picture of my wall. Remember, myths, not memories.