'Tis The Season....

Delhi has never been more beautiful. Not in my immediate memory at least. It is raining, and raining real heavy. The roads are wet, washed clean. The trees are dripping, with the green of their leaves accentuated and absolutely pleasing to the eyes. Summer is seeming like history, and a chilly breeze is constantly caressing my cheeks. The best part- scent of the wet earth. Taking in the fragrance of soil made wet, immediately after rains is easily one of those pleasures i would never get over. Everything is at its pristine best, despite the concrete jungle that forms my immediate habitation. With this little, random, silly smile on my face, am looking at the raindrops lashing against my room's window, reminiscing my best spent moments with life. Moments that touched my heart, moments that i can romanticize forever.

And what such a weather does to me is anyone's guess. "Hopeless Romantic"- I don't know who tagged me this, but whoever it was, was a very sensible man/woman. Just about a few days back, summer was at its peak, and so was my temper, and irritability, and stress levels. It was hot, and sweltering, and nothing seemed to be in order, and fatigue and discomfort seemed to creep into my existence from all sides. However, for the past three days, things have themselves fallen into order. I am calm. I am finding time to even do things not originally in my schedule. I am happy. I am lost. And the same, silly, faint smile is forever accessorizing my face.

And I am thinking about things. About a lot of things. Things, which have one thing in common- They all make me inexplicably happy. It may be people, situations, incidents- everything that left even a faint impact on me, and is still lurking in the penumbra of that part of my memory, which i associate with pure, unadultrated bliss. Let me quote a few examples-

~Somewhere during last week, when i struggled my way up the metro stairs ('cuz the lift was ready to explode with the number of people trying to squeeze in), taking the kanchenjunga exit from Barakhamba Road Metro Station, I saw a couple who would remain etched in my memory for a really long time to come. They were in their middle ages- the female far more graceful than any I have known, and the male, very dignified, with his slightly greying hair at the temples adding to his charm- and visibly, very much in love. However, why I remember them, is not for their looks, but for something different. The couple, both of them i presume, had not been blessed with speech and hearing. They were carrying on an animated discussion, with their hands flying in all directions. It was only a moment i stole a glance at them, and then averted my eyes, slightly conscious by the fact that i was invading their privacy. However, when i looked around, i realized, in India, not many people are blessed with scruples of conscience, and they continued gawking at the two of them, even sharing totally contemptible laughs among themselves. I climbed out of the metro station, stole a last look at them over my shoulders, and whispered to my heart-"bless them"

~I do late night studies, often keeping up till early hours of the morning. Generally, the curtains of my room are drawn, to prohibit early rays of sunlight from entering my territory, and depriving me of slumber- a much coveted, scarce commodity for me. However, today morning, i clearly noticed the sky changing color through my huge window, with no curtains to disposses me of such a magical view. I ambled into the balcony, and I don't know for how many minutes i stood there, immobilized, my eyes soaking in every little detail of the alluring scene in front of me. It was unnervingly quiet, for most people were still snug within the blanket of sleep, but i was glad for not being one amongst them. I was glad for being blessed with a private rendezvous with the most stunning part of the day, the sky over my head being cast in layers of at least three different colors....

~" Sometimes i feel everything in the world is so beautiful and simple. Quite contrary to what I think. But its nice. :)" My friend Saurabh, practically out of nowhere, and 2:17 am at night on 5th July, sent me this message. I had been trying hard to fight out the hideous images of Statistics' formulae and diagram which had been annoying me for past couple of days, when I recieved this, and smiled another of my silly smiles at the mobile screen. Firstly, 'cuz, there are fewer things that can give you more happiness while you are caught in your mundane chores than the name of your favorite friend flashing on your mobile screen. And secondly, the content of the message was so random, abstract, yet enough so effective in transforming my virulence into gladness, and the sms chit-chat which followed for nearly and hour or two after that, one of the fondest i've had in a long time.

While I was pondering over these very things, flipping through the pages of my diary, when i came across a few lines i scribbled as a reaction to a 'Spiritual Solutions' article in HT, on June 15, '10-
"Love is a phenominally understated, grossly misunderstood, and supremely assaulted emotion; but, it possesses a remarkable resilience. It keeps coming back in the lives of all those, most often without their cognizance, who at some point or the other have desecrated this divine object, this blessing than God gave us to directly be connected with Him."

Quite honestly, I did not believe i had written this. But then, I guess I had. I guess something had bothered me so much, that rather than stain the pages of my diary with long, lachrymose content, i simply expressed my anguish in these words.

So, the conclusion. Despite disdain flowing in copious amounts from all sides from the more sensible and pragmatic male friends of mine, the sort who look down on females who are mushy, senti, easily attached to the most silly things in the world, I will continue doing the following things-

~I will read the Twilight series as many times as I desire (in fact, thats what i am doing in my free time at present), despite the fact that i have seen the movie like a zillion times, and read all the four books twice over already;
~I will collect money and buy myself a copy of the classics Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, even though I've read them emough times now to know the lines by heart;
~I will keep watching movies like A Walk to Remember, Autumn In New York, Notebook, Titanic, and keep shedding bucketful of tears, even long after the movie is over;
~I will totally refuse to give up my obsession with Katherine Heigl, and James Marsden starrer, 27 Dresses, and see it as many times as Star Movies thinks it fit to air it;
~I will continue sleeping with my copy copy of "I Too Had A Love Story" hugged tight to my bossom on those dark days of my life, when things would be awry, and genuinely feel remorse for the author of this cute, little book;
~I will continue going to movies like "I Hate Luv Stories" despite enough warnings from the media and the disappointment, scorn, and incessant protests of my companion, whose definition of 'paisa vasool' for such movies is to avail the benefits of air conditioning and simply sleep. And after trying for the sixth time to wake him up, i would simply give up, and enjoy the movie;
~And here comes the big one-I will continue hoping, in the labelled 'nonsensical' fashion, that my boyfriend came with a vampire bite scar somewhere on his neck, making him an exact replica of EDWARD CULLEN, blessing me with a kismet akin to that of Bella's

Some supremely intelligent individual has quoted- 'Love makes uncomplicated, earnest idiots of us all" (-Tim Dowling). I would like to agree with him, and state furthermore, that it is this specific idiocy, which can grant us those precious few moments, which will flicker in front of our eye lids, when we approach the evening of life. The crepuscular being i am, i firmly believe in the concept of dawn after dusk, and can't leave this post to end on a note with a slight melancholic undertone to it. With nothing left to write, I'd just end with a quote from Acts of Faith, an awesome novel from the magical spinner of Love Stories, Erich Segal-

"It was one of the Jewish legends of the mystics- that when the soul descends from Heaven, it has two parts, one male, the other female. They separate and enter different bodies. But if these people then lead righteous lives, the Father of the Universe will reunite them as a couple."