It’s 2.45 in the morning and I am sitting on my terrace. The drowsiness that had been weighing on my eyelids not five minutes ago has turned into dreaminess. After standing in total silence for a while, I slip down to the floor and rest myself against the wall, my back crying out in gratitude for the support. Noddy, my dog, curls up next to me, reluctant to be out while the storm threatens to create mischief. And yet, he is apprehensive to leave me by myself. He shifts his position to be as close to me as possible and we both are comforted by each other’s presence.
Women have always fascinated me, especially the kind who believe their looks, beauty, clothes, style, makeup and accessories make the world go round; those who are of the opinion that they’re God’s gift to mankind. Let me change that – they firmly believe that they’re God’s gift to mankind. After all, opinions suggest that they can be changed, but beliefs … in India? Ha ha ha, good luck!
Nostalgia is a funny thing. There is no telling where you might suddenly bump into an old memory tucked away in some dark, less-frequented recesses of your brain or what might suddenly trigger off an almost dramatic flashback sequence, not unlike the hammy scene you would see in a 70s or 80s Hindi blockbuster. Except, I don’t wildly clutch my hair and totter around like a maniac with a bucket-load of sweat escaping through every pore in my body!