I closed my eyes and she slipped away
What am I doing blogging on my birthday? Well it's like this... my boyfriend and friend have abandoned me for work/student pursuits and my parents take like forever to get ready when they're on holiday!!! So I thought, now is a good time as any for the pearls of a quarter century of wisdom to pour forth... Yes, I laugh too at the pomposity of the last statement!! What pearls? What wisdom? Is there any such direct relationship between age and wisdom? I don't really think so... I think the only great thing about age is the pragmatic way you begin to start looking at things that just never used to happen when I was 10 or 12 or 14 or even 18. Those are the girls that slipped away.
So maybe that's what wisdom is... who knows, who cares. All I know is I'm 25 and certainly not feeling as exuberant as I normally feel on a birthday but I could be feeling this way just for the sake of drama also... :-)
There's just been so much happening with my parents' visit and work and what not. Tonight is big party as usual and will update next week on all the events/presents/etc.
But I just have to say, I am the proud owner of a brand new Nokia 6131 (courtesy Mr. Moonlight) which is one of them flip ones and I've just been dying for a flip phone for a while and this is the first time in my life I'm owning a funky phone while the model is still new and funky... haha... I love my new baby and will christen it sometime...
Happy Birthday baby sister!!! (well, when she was just 17, you know what I mean, and the way she looked, was way beyond compare)
Showing posts with label profound thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label profound thoughts. Show all posts
Friday, September 22, 2006
Thursday, August 17, 2006
If I leave here tomorrow... Would you still remember me... For I must be travelling on now... Cos there’s too many places I’ve gotta see
So the weekend before, we had a house leaving party (a lot of people insist on calling it a house cooling party as opposed to a house warming party but I think house cooling sounds horribly uncool)… Anyway, I had a really awesome time and all… in fact, I didn’t stop drinking until 7 in the morning… and a lot of people showed up… and I laughed a lot… and we sang a lot… and my photographer friend took a few hundred photos…
But in the midst of all the madness, whenever I remembered what the party was about, the melancholy took over and it was all I could do not to tear up and start lamenting the loss of this oh-so-warm home of mine… of course, I did end the night in tears but that’s a whole other story and quite irrelevant to this post.
It’s hard to explain my peculiar attachment to this house of mine… it’s just an average two bedroom apartment off the block… it must be about six years old which isn’t too old but quite old for my demanding modernity standards… we leased it in quite a hurry… after all, it was a lot bigger than the old one and the master bedroom actually had an ensuite bathroom which I thought was a luxury I’d involuntarily given up forever the day I left my home in Madras… but on the evening we started moving in two years ago (almost to the day), I noticed a lot of things I hadn’t noticed before… the carpets were moderately stained (and to which, stains have since been generously added by the number of parties we’ve had)… some of the wood was chipping… a few of the lights didn’t work… the guy who’d vacated hadn’t put too much into cleaning it for the new tenants… it was high ceilinged, so that was just begging for cold draughts of air... even the water tasted funny (and it still does… and its impossible to get cold water out of the freaking tap… and I’m addicted to ice cold water… tepid water I can’t even swallow)… and worst of all, it was located in a completely alien suburb and I felt quite sure I’d never enjoy living here…
You see, before this, my entire universe was centred on the Melbourne CBD… my first awful apartment on Swanston Street and my university not even 3 minutes away walking… that apartment was truly dreadful… it was the size of my finger… but the convenience of living next door to city life was incomparable… not that I had any money to enjoy city life… but still, the bright shiny lights were right outside my doorstep…
After six months of living like sardines though we moved just up the street and right to good ol' Lygon Street. Compared to Swanston, the Lygon Street apartment was like a mansion... and it was all sparkly and shiny and brand new and I thought I'd never want to live anywhere ever again... I quickly grew to love the area... it wasn't the poshest or even the nicest of areas... Carlton is notorious for mob activity and theft in general and we've witnessed our share of car chases... not the actual cars, but choppers flying all over the place and us having an illegal smoke on our balcony with the light shining down on us and wondering if our number was finally up... good times :)... paranoid times, but good... our car was broken into twice in our alleged secure basement carpark... but still, it was all quite safe and we walked home late at night from the restaurant/shopping part of Lygon Street many many times... my university was now a 10 minute tram ride away but 10 minutes in the life of a student is negligable... of course, paying for the tickets was a huge unwarranted expense and that's when I started that whole deal with God thing about fare evasion :)
But the most important thing of all was I absolutely loved heading home... walking up to the entrance and through the front door always made me feel welcome... it was clean so we tried our best to keep it clean... there are some aspects to my personality that are rather Monica Geller like in terms of getting mildly obsessive compulsive with cleaning... but in the old place I shocked myself at my complacency with collecting dirty dishes in the sink, not wiping the counters after cooking, never dusting or vaccuming... but all that changed and housemates of mine surely regret how I reverted to my natural ways... I became mildly obsessive compulsive again about the kitchen and my wrath at dirty kitchen counters and undisposed of garbage was not easy to deal with...
You see, this was the first time I felt like I had a home again after leaving my real home... and it was important to me to have the kind of home that made me want to go back to it... what else do you have to look forward to in a strange foreign country if not some place to call your own and make your own... we were always strange that way... other Indian students thought we were nuts when they saw the "fancy" place we lived in... most of them lived in disgusting little holes or an hour away from civilization... because of the rent, of course... as a struggling student, I had a strict stipend per month from home... this strict stipend was suggested by IDP as being more than enough and I know now who they spoke to to come up with this figure... the ones living in the dirty little holes... so here we were, shelling out half our monthly allowance on rent of all things... that left very little leftover for food/expenses/books/entertainment... but I never regretted it once... there was my beautiful apartment, a shining beacon of hope in the midst of all my homesickness and coursework and meagre social life... So until now we were still very focussed on Lygon Street and the CBD and I really had no clue what was outside these boundaries... on rare occassions I went down to Chapel Street or Smith Street or Sydney Road or St. Kilda Road and these were all slightly frightening adventures outside my comfort zone... they were also outside my "hood" so I always bought a tram ticket... and always, I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I returned to familiar territory.
Then the unthinkable happened... I finished studying and was lucky to get a job almost immediately but this job was all the way down St. Kilda Road, past the CBD, on the other side of the Yarra River (you could almost call it the wrong side of the tracks for me). After almost two years of waking up whenever I felt like it I had to discipline myself to going to bed on time and waking up at 7:30 am so I could leave by 8:15 or so to get to work by 9:15. Yes, it took me the better part of an hour which just shows you what cruel tricks life can play on you… because distance wise, and if I was driving there, it would be all of 20 minutes. But thanks to the wonderfully slow trams that absolutely insist on stopping at every tram stop (which is at every block) and because I had to cross the city on the way and since of course the city is full of thoughtful drivers who are always driving in the tram lane and slowing things down even more, it used to take me that long… And did I mention the sardine theme again every single morning and evening because I was travelling at peak hour? There was simply no relief until I was 3 blocks away from work or home by which point it didn’t matter… I did this for about 2 months before deciding I just couldn’t go on and absolutely had to take the drastic decision of leaving Lygon Street and my beloved hood Carlton and moving to the other side of the city, the names of which suburbs I didn’t even know yet.
By the time we did move, it was something like six months… August 2004… Dandenong Road, Prahran… as I said, at first, I was miserable to move in… but in the first week of arriving at work/home within 12 minutes by tram including waiting time, it was quite easy to forget about Lygon Street (shame on my fickleness) J There were still annoyances such the tepid water and Dandenong Road being the busiest road leading to some few outer suburbs and being busy 24/7 so there was never any respite from traffic noise, but even this worked out in our favour because we could scream our heads off and sing our lungs out and have 20 people simultaneously talking on the balcony and there wouldn’t even be a polite knock from a neighbour asking us to keep it down… we took full advantage of this over two years and hosted a number of loud and rowdy events.
So you see, slowly but surely my universe shifted to this side of the city… I still went to the city for drinks and dinner and what not, on occasion, but I also started visiting more shops/restaurants/bars in my area… since my work was also in the area, we spent many a lunch hour roaming the streets of Chapel and High and Commercial (we shouldn’t leave St Kilda Road out of it too… remember the beautiful bay views)… it’s hard to explain exactly why it is so special… I guess everywhere else is just pretty boring and average… what you see is possibly the same thing you’ll see in other cities around Australia… but Prahran and South Yarra and especially Chapel Street are so eclectic and surprising, you just never know what you’re gonna get… and its my absolute favourite area to drive around looking at all the beautiful houses… at least 30 of my dream houses are located on Orrong Road and Toorak in general… this area is the playground of the very rich and even though I didn’t live in a multimillion dollar house, it still felt pretty good to tell people I lived in Prahran…
And this was the truest test of my love for this side of town… my new job is in the city… yet another cruel life trick… so now I sit (if ever I do get a seat) on the tram for 50 long minutes one way as I travel to work and back… and yes, it bothers me but not once have I ever felt like just escaping… well maybe, some mornings… but every evening, as soon I cross the Yarra, I don’t regret for a minute that my home is still half an hour away… after all, my home is in Prahran… my home is right next door to Chapel Street…
Do I visit Chapel Street every night or weekend? No…
Does that make a difference? No…
Is it enough just knowing its there? Yes…
Just like the beach in Madras, I suppose…
Could we ever get by in a non-coastal city even though we swam in the sea maybe thrice a year? No!
So anyway, our time together is almost up… Sep 1 is when I move… I’m moving to high-rise, non-unique, commercialised personified – Southbank! Why, after all this, am I leaving Prahran you ask? Because it wasn’t affordable in Prahran to buy the kind of place I could see myself living in… Yes, dear reader… I am now a first home owner – a fact that fills me with immense pride and intense dread, all at the same time. And even though Prahran was not really affordable, there were a couple in my old hood Carlton that might’ve worked but I just couldn’t bear the thought of moving to that side of the city again after having lived on this side… this side rocks… that side is seemingly dark and depressing now even though I didn’t know any better then… so anyway, I had to compromise somewhere and Southbank it is… the best thing about Southbank is that work will be a 7 minute tram ride or a 20 minute walk… I see plenty of exercise potential… but anyway, the new place is a whole other story that I’ll save for later.
I think I forced everyone at the party to have a shot of some killer fruit punch (concocted by yours truly) as a tribute to the Dandenong Road house… now the apartment seems to know that I’m moving on and is reacting with uncharacteristic coldness and emptiness… Not to worry… it will always one of the dearest places I’ve lived in… I’m quite sure when its time for me to move on from Southbank I will feel a similar sadness and write about how I regretted leaving Prahran but finally ended up madly in love with Southbank, but that’s just the way I am J I get peculiarly attached to places which after all are just wood and carpet… I think it’s because I am at heart a most intransient being… I get comfortable someplace and never want to leave… I’ve lived in the same house in Madras my whole life and when I had to move out once for six months while renovating I thought my parents were being most unfair to me by kicking me out of my room… as it turned out it worked out well that I lived in Nungambakkam and Adyar for half that time because at least I got to have a very fun summer without having to deal with the annoying logistics issues that are part and parcel of living in Annanagar…
So whatever it is, it’s always hard for me to move on… but eventually I adapt and mostly it works out better than I expected… this is true of any change in my life… so what’s the lesson learned here… nothing… because even though I know I will adapt, it doesn’t stop me from feeling sad at leaving.
So whatever… goodbye Prahran… hello Southbank!
But in the midst of all the madness, whenever I remembered what the party was about, the melancholy took over and it was all I could do not to tear up and start lamenting the loss of this oh-so-warm home of mine… of course, I did end the night in tears but that’s a whole other story and quite irrelevant to this post.
It’s hard to explain my peculiar attachment to this house of mine… it’s just an average two bedroom apartment off the block… it must be about six years old which isn’t too old but quite old for my demanding modernity standards… we leased it in quite a hurry… after all, it was a lot bigger than the old one and the master bedroom actually had an ensuite bathroom which I thought was a luxury I’d involuntarily given up forever the day I left my home in Madras… but on the evening we started moving in two years ago (almost to the day), I noticed a lot of things I hadn’t noticed before… the carpets were moderately stained (and to which, stains have since been generously added by the number of parties we’ve had)… some of the wood was chipping… a few of the lights didn’t work… the guy who’d vacated hadn’t put too much into cleaning it for the new tenants… it was high ceilinged, so that was just begging for cold draughts of air... even the water tasted funny (and it still does… and its impossible to get cold water out of the freaking tap… and I’m addicted to ice cold water… tepid water I can’t even swallow)… and worst of all, it was located in a completely alien suburb and I felt quite sure I’d never enjoy living here…
You see, before this, my entire universe was centred on the Melbourne CBD… my first awful apartment on Swanston Street and my university not even 3 minutes away walking… that apartment was truly dreadful… it was the size of my finger… but the convenience of living next door to city life was incomparable… not that I had any money to enjoy city life… but still, the bright shiny lights were right outside my doorstep…
After six months of living like sardines though we moved just up the street and right to good ol' Lygon Street. Compared to Swanston, the Lygon Street apartment was like a mansion... and it was all sparkly and shiny and brand new and I thought I'd never want to live anywhere ever again... I quickly grew to love the area... it wasn't the poshest or even the nicest of areas... Carlton is notorious for mob activity and theft in general and we've witnessed our share of car chases... not the actual cars, but choppers flying all over the place and us having an illegal smoke on our balcony with the light shining down on us and wondering if our number was finally up... good times :)... paranoid times, but good... our car was broken into twice in our alleged secure basement carpark... but still, it was all quite safe and we walked home late at night from the restaurant/shopping part of Lygon Street many many times... my university was now a 10 minute tram ride away but 10 minutes in the life of a student is negligable... of course, paying for the tickets was a huge unwarranted expense and that's when I started that whole deal with God thing about fare evasion :)
But the most important thing of all was I absolutely loved heading home... walking up to the entrance and through the front door always made me feel welcome... it was clean so we tried our best to keep it clean... there are some aspects to my personality that are rather Monica Geller like in terms of getting mildly obsessive compulsive with cleaning... but in the old place I shocked myself at my complacency with collecting dirty dishes in the sink, not wiping the counters after cooking, never dusting or vaccuming... but all that changed and housemates of mine surely regret how I reverted to my natural ways... I became mildly obsessive compulsive again about the kitchen and my wrath at dirty kitchen counters and undisposed of garbage was not easy to deal with...
You see, this was the first time I felt like I had a home again after leaving my real home... and it was important to me to have the kind of home that made me want to go back to it... what else do you have to look forward to in a strange foreign country if not some place to call your own and make your own... we were always strange that way... other Indian students thought we were nuts when they saw the "fancy" place we lived in... most of them lived in disgusting little holes or an hour away from civilization... because of the rent, of course... as a struggling student, I had a strict stipend per month from home... this strict stipend was suggested by IDP as being more than enough and I know now who they spoke to to come up with this figure... the ones living in the dirty little holes... so here we were, shelling out half our monthly allowance on rent of all things... that left very little leftover for food/expenses/books/entertainment... but I never regretted it once... there was my beautiful apartment, a shining beacon of hope in the midst of all my homesickness and coursework and meagre social life... So until now we were still very focussed on Lygon Street and the CBD and I really had no clue what was outside these boundaries... on rare occassions I went down to Chapel Street or Smith Street or Sydney Road or St. Kilda Road and these were all slightly frightening adventures outside my comfort zone... they were also outside my "hood" so I always bought a tram ticket... and always, I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I returned to familiar territory.
Then the unthinkable happened... I finished studying and was lucky to get a job almost immediately but this job was all the way down St. Kilda Road, past the CBD, on the other side of the Yarra River (you could almost call it the wrong side of the tracks for me). After almost two years of waking up whenever I felt like it I had to discipline myself to going to bed on time and waking up at 7:30 am so I could leave by 8:15 or so to get to work by 9:15. Yes, it took me the better part of an hour which just shows you what cruel tricks life can play on you… because distance wise, and if I was driving there, it would be all of 20 minutes. But thanks to the wonderfully slow trams that absolutely insist on stopping at every tram stop (which is at every block) and because I had to cross the city on the way and since of course the city is full of thoughtful drivers who are always driving in the tram lane and slowing things down even more, it used to take me that long… And did I mention the sardine theme again every single morning and evening because I was travelling at peak hour? There was simply no relief until I was 3 blocks away from work or home by which point it didn’t matter… I did this for about 2 months before deciding I just couldn’t go on and absolutely had to take the drastic decision of leaving Lygon Street and my beloved hood Carlton and moving to the other side of the city, the names of which suburbs I didn’t even know yet.
By the time we did move, it was something like six months… August 2004… Dandenong Road, Prahran… as I said, at first, I was miserable to move in… but in the first week of arriving at work/home within 12 minutes by tram including waiting time, it was quite easy to forget about Lygon Street (shame on my fickleness) J There were still annoyances such the tepid water and Dandenong Road being the busiest road leading to some few outer suburbs and being busy 24/7 so there was never any respite from traffic noise, but even this worked out in our favour because we could scream our heads off and sing our lungs out and have 20 people simultaneously talking on the balcony and there wouldn’t even be a polite knock from a neighbour asking us to keep it down… we took full advantage of this over two years and hosted a number of loud and rowdy events.
So you see, slowly but surely my universe shifted to this side of the city… I still went to the city for drinks and dinner and what not, on occasion, but I also started visiting more shops/restaurants/bars in my area… since my work was also in the area, we spent many a lunch hour roaming the streets of Chapel and High and Commercial (we shouldn’t leave St Kilda Road out of it too… remember the beautiful bay views)… it’s hard to explain exactly why it is so special… I guess everywhere else is just pretty boring and average… what you see is possibly the same thing you’ll see in other cities around Australia… but Prahran and South Yarra and especially Chapel Street are so eclectic and surprising, you just never know what you’re gonna get… and its my absolute favourite area to drive around looking at all the beautiful houses… at least 30 of my dream houses are located on Orrong Road and Toorak in general… this area is the playground of the very rich and even though I didn’t live in a multimillion dollar house, it still felt pretty good to tell people I lived in Prahran…
And this was the truest test of my love for this side of town… my new job is in the city… yet another cruel life trick… so now I sit (if ever I do get a seat) on the tram for 50 long minutes one way as I travel to work and back… and yes, it bothers me but not once have I ever felt like just escaping… well maybe, some mornings… but every evening, as soon I cross the Yarra, I don’t regret for a minute that my home is still half an hour away… after all, my home is in Prahran… my home is right next door to Chapel Street…
Do I visit Chapel Street every night or weekend? No…
Does that make a difference? No…
Is it enough just knowing its there? Yes…
Just like the beach in Madras, I suppose…
Could we ever get by in a non-coastal city even though we swam in the sea maybe thrice a year? No!
So anyway, our time together is almost up… Sep 1 is when I move… I’m moving to high-rise, non-unique, commercialised personified – Southbank! Why, after all this, am I leaving Prahran you ask? Because it wasn’t affordable in Prahran to buy the kind of place I could see myself living in… Yes, dear reader… I am now a first home owner – a fact that fills me with immense pride and intense dread, all at the same time. And even though Prahran was not really affordable, there were a couple in my old hood Carlton that might’ve worked but I just couldn’t bear the thought of moving to that side of the city again after having lived on this side… this side rocks… that side is seemingly dark and depressing now even though I didn’t know any better then… so anyway, I had to compromise somewhere and Southbank it is… the best thing about Southbank is that work will be a 7 minute tram ride or a 20 minute walk… I see plenty of exercise potential… but anyway, the new place is a whole other story that I’ll save for later.
I think I forced everyone at the party to have a shot of some killer fruit punch (concocted by yours truly) as a tribute to the Dandenong Road house… now the apartment seems to know that I’m moving on and is reacting with uncharacteristic coldness and emptiness… Not to worry… it will always one of the dearest places I’ve lived in… I’m quite sure when its time for me to move on from Southbank I will feel a similar sadness and write about how I regretted leaving Prahran but finally ended up madly in love with Southbank, but that’s just the way I am J I get peculiarly attached to places which after all are just wood and carpet… I think it’s because I am at heart a most intransient being… I get comfortable someplace and never want to leave… I’ve lived in the same house in Madras my whole life and when I had to move out once for six months while renovating I thought my parents were being most unfair to me by kicking me out of my room… as it turned out it worked out well that I lived in Nungambakkam and Adyar for half that time because at least I got to have a very fun summer without having to deal with the annoying logistics issues that are part and parcel of living in Annanagar…
So whatever it is, it’s always hard for me to move on… but eventually I adapt and mostly it works out better than I expected… this is true of any change in my life… so what’s the lesson learned here… nothing… because even though I know I will adapt, it doesn’t stop me from feeling sad at leaving.
So whatever… goodbye Prahran… hello Southbank!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
What is this I think I feel... I wanna feel the sunshine all the time...
I wanna feel the sunshine lift my head
I wanna see your face when I wake up
I wanna be the light that’s in your life
I wanna feel the sunshine all the time
Today I remember Goa… the music brought it back… party shuffle all the way… this time it was the Ministry of Sound Annual 2006… the only CD we had… not even both discs… just disc 1… well, there was another CD… a mish mash of all the songs I hurriedly downloaded when I got to India and realised I had no music at all for the car… so there was also Dakota and Scissor Sisters… driving back drunk late at night in our dodgy Tempo Traveller that seats 12 but should only be allowed to take 6… and there was Kat playing the Pussycat Dolls to perfection… Dontcha think your girlfriend is hot like me… Kat is a guy…
But the thing with Ministry of Sound is you gotta listen to it over and over and sometimes its hard to tell one song from another until you’ve listened to it enough times to pick out your favourite parts and then you actually pick up song titles and track numbers so you can rewind and fast forward at will…
So we listen as we drive 16 hours from Bangalore to Goa… we listen to other stuff other people have too but nothing else registers… tracks 5, 9 and 13… we wind our way through the Western Ghats… sometimes at breakneck speeds… the hazy layer of smoke in the air… the gentle buzz from the ready mix in my head… there is no fear… the music lulls us to sleep and wakefulness again… we stop for chai and chocolate fixes…
I wanna see your face when I wake up
I wanna be the light that’s in your life
I wanna feel the sunshine all the time
Today I remember Goa… the music brought it back… party shuffle all the way… this time it was the Ministry of Sound Annual 2006… the only CD we had… not even both discs… just disc 1… well, there was another CD… a mish mash of all the songs I hurriedly downloaded when I got to India and realised I had no music at all for the car… so there was also Dakota and Scissor Sisters… driving back drunk late at night in our dodgy Tempo Traveller that seats 12 but should only be allowed to take 6… and there was Kat playing the Pussycat Dolls to perfection… Dontcha think your girlfriend is hot like me… Kat is a guy…
But the thing with Ministry of Sound is you gotta listen to it over and over and sometimes its hard to tell one song from another until you’ve listened to it enough times to pick out your favourite parts and then you actually pick up song titles and track numbers so you can rewind and fast forward at will…
So we listen as we drive 16 hours from Bangalore to Goa… we listen to other stuff other people have too but nothing else registers… tracks 5, 9 and 13… we wind our way through the Western Ghats… sometimes at breakneck speeds… the hazy layer of smoke in the air… the gentle buzz from the ready mix in my head… there is no fear… the music lulls us to sleep and wakefulness again… we stop for chai and chocolate fixes…
There’s nothing quite like the start of a trip… anything can happen… funny things funny people say and do are happening already but you know the best is yet to come…
Here we are in crowded Calangute all of a sudden… along the way we pass Angel Resorts where we stayed 2001-2002… what a time… what a trip…
Goa is the same but everything else is different… maybe it’s everyone else who is different… maybe I’m suddenly too old and tired to drink as much… I definitely know I’m too tired and sick to smoke so much… the sore throat I’ve been avoiding for a few days by diligently gargling with salt water is finally catching up with me… so passes the first night in Goa… desultorily drinking at Tito’s…
The bright sunshine the next morning makes the world look beautiful again… and that first glimpse of the bright blue Arabian Sea makes it all worth it… we claim a shack as our own and spend the next six hours sunbathing and swimming… we keep up a steady stream of orders for drinks and food… and then the long awaited sunset… this is the Goa I know and love… the beach, the shack, and the sun setting…
That night we drink up and head out… we try one place after another but nothing feels right… and whoever heard of such exorbitant cover charges in Goa before… and where have all the raves gone… I’m not the world’s most enthusiastic raver but once every couple of years is alright… but no dice… everything’s busted… are we in Goa or Madras?
Today is the last day of the year… the sun is shining again and we luck out with a shack that has deck chairs that we lie on all day… before I know it, the sun is setting for the last time this year… so many memories flash before my eyes… the years that have been… tomorrow, a new year… a new beginning?
Is it 11:30 pm already? I am happy… I am with the one I love and surrounded by near and dear friends… the music at Nine Bar is loud but not intrusive… I am quietly high on life and Bacardi (with a little bit of Old Monk thrown in to make it interesting)… the organisers ask us to move away from the wall as they set up the fireworks… someone gives me a little taste of their ecstasy pill… my blocked nose clears up for a glorious 10 seconds… people hugging kissing laughing… Happy New Year… so, now what?
By 3 am, I have reached my peak… I have danced and drunk and smoked… I am in a curiously violent mood and ready to punch anyone who invades my space… the curious part is I am most disappointed I don’t actually get to practice my Kung Fu Kick… by now we have walked a lot and moved between a couple of places… word on the street is the Hilltop is where its going to go off as the sun rises… in my alcohol fuelled enthusiasm, I am all set to last until then… alas, by 5 am I’m back in my bed and pass out in seconds…
I wake up in the afternoon of the new year and my head feels like I got punched the night before but the unbearable pain in my throat clues me in on what is really going on… we head to the beach one last time but for me there is no swimming, no drinking, no smoking… all I can do is sit in my chair and gaze out at the wide expanse of sea in front of me… the air is still warm and the sun is still shining but today I am shivering… I remember the last time… I wanna feel the sunshine all the time…
There are many things I’ve forgotten over the years but there are some moments that stand out and that I will never let go of… like that moment on New Years Day 2002… it was nearing sunset… there we all were sitting around on the beach… maybe it was the same beach I am sitting on now 4 years later… coming down from our first (and last... for me, at least) ecstasy hits of the night before… a swim in the warm water… someone finds a little starfish on the sand… stomachs pleasantly full… two Bacardi and watermelons down… at that moment, I felt more content than I’d ever felt before or have felt since… anything was possible… we were young, healthy and the world was our oyster… I knew everything in the new year was going to be terribly different… I didn’t know yet if it would be good different or bad different… but I knew that whenever I just needed to feel good I could go back to that moment and feel that same warm feeling of contentment wash over me again…
So I look around now… most of the faces are different… one or two from the first time… the missing ones are overseas or otherwise occupied… and half of these new ones are fresh faced 20 year olds… the same age I was the last time… they are now coming down from their best ever high and are already planning their next visit to Goa… same time, same place… I smile in amusement at this rite of passage… maybe they will come back and maybe they won’t… and if they do come back maybe they will find what I have found… a place may never change but how it makes you feel can change because of the way you have changed…
I’m so tired… all I want is to sleep… I close my eyes and go back to that moment all over again… it still works… it still makes me feel so good inside… I realise that I am still young in a relative sense but of course that doesn’t stop me from feeling old… hopefully I am still healthy… but is the world still my oyster… is anything still possible… anyone with a gung ho live-life-to-the-fullest attitude will say of course it is… I’m not so sure… I know now that there are some things that are just not going to be possible… there are some dreams that I just have neither the time nor the inclination to follow through with… but that’s the real difference between then and now… then it might’ve seemed a horrible betrayal of myself to give up on anything… now, I accept what is and what can be and am learning to let go of what will never be… and now there are new dreams… and so that’s the same between then and now… I still dream…
There isn’t much else to tell… we leave later that night… I sleep all the way back to Bangalore… it’s a dreamless self-medication-induced stupor… I wake up to stifling heat, crowded roads and polluted air… it’s a brand new day and a brand new year… whatever will be will be…
Maybe the last two weeks of my vacation will be fun fun fun with wedding madness, Mexican themed bachelorette nights, Wild Wild West parties and six year anniversary celebrations… maybe I will return to Melbourne and walk about in a daze of homesickness and job dissatisfaction for weeks… maybe these things will pass… maybe I’ll get a better job… maybe I won’t write a word for 6 months… maybe I’ll chop my hair to half its length after 3 years… maybe before I know it, I’ll reach the halfway mark of the new year… maybe winter will go by quickly with the aid of layers and heaters… maybe there will be planned trips overseas… maybe visitors from overseas will plan to visit me?
What is this I think I feel… why do I love the sunshine… because its not always shining… that’s when we go to the secret places in our hearts where it is shining… and when it is shining, well, that’s as good as it’s ever gonna get…
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