Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Day 19

Day 19
Today is Day 18. I know, I’m ridiculous. Sometimes, in my mind, when I say the word “ridiculous” it comes out “ridicule-us” in a strange British accent. So I am in New Delhi at my Nana & Nani’s house. Complicated reasons for why I had to cut the trip short, but basically there was no more space in Bangalore. It annoyed me at first, but nothing can annoy me more than the cough/stomach trouble I’m having, so I’m quite okay with it.
So far, about Delhi. It’s unbearably hot. Well, no, it’s bearable. It’s just that you don’t much want to bear it. Coming here was refreshing as Nana and Nani are so attentive to my needs. In the last 7 hours they have cooked for me twice, taken me to an internet café, given me medicine, made a bed for me, made me sleep, and bought me medicine. I really love them and all their sincerity and care for my well-being.
Now it is Day 19, I am telling you this because I am consolidating and it would be weird if I told you how tomorrow was. But now that I’m thinking it… nothing ever gets written in future tense. So tomorrow, we will go to Gymkhana Club to eat with Dadi, and I will wake up late and miss the breakfast Nani spent time preparing for me. Nani and Dadi will discuss what I look like in front of me, like they always do, and Dadi will say I’m first class, and Nani will say, yes I’m first class, but I’ll be even more first class if I lose 2 stone. I will smile because this happens every time while Nana sits there and looks mildly uncomfortable or perhaps, can’t hear us.
I will discover that ominously enough, this house has only 2 pictures of me in it on display as compared to the 750, 000 of Meghana and Akshay (including Prom pictures) and the 10 of Ishita. But at least I beat Chet (because there is only one of him , although it is on greater display…). After coming home from the club, I will give Nani her gifts and she will be pleased with the hanging plates and the shirt, but not the pajama tops, because they are not sleeveless and she doesn’t wear anything but sleeveless things to bed in the Delhi heat. I will teach her how to use the cell phone as she is very good at lady things, but does not have great knowledge of early generation Nokia phones. This of course, will change after I teach her. I will talk to my mother and she will tell me about going to Maharaja without me. Chet will call me and tell me about his dream about the president who is not George Bush who runs on a battery that leaks oatmeal causing him to lose his memory, and then Chet has to be a secret agent on the case.
There are beautiful pictures of my mother here and a lot of cute naked baby pictures of my sister and cousin. But mostly beautiful pictures of my mother. She looks like one of those models that pouts, except they don’t wear simple wedding saris. Sometimes I wish I could just skip the next 12 years of my life and be happy and married instead of having to do anything in between (the hard parts). Not that marriage isn’t hard… but whatever.
Music is touching. Number #7 redundancy for the day. (I say more obvious things around my grandparents.) But no, it’s true. And you know how it works? You’re just sitting there and you’re just bopping around to the beat, maybe it’s pleasant, and your head is moving from side to side and then all of a sudden, something happens-- maybe it’s a lyric or just the most pure melody--and it’s so completely true, and it strikes you in the heart with its blatant honesty and for a while you just can’t keep yourself from tearing up or stopping just to take a few deep breaths. Nothing makes you cry like the truth. It’s when something is so sincere, like music, that you just can’t stand it anymore and you have to do something like cry.
I am sneezing suddenly as well. I think I’ll turn off the fan. It must be circulating dust or something. I am becoming annoyed that my tissue is running out of surface area that has not been used. And also that my throat is getting these stabbing pains in it that come only from sneezing too much. I like Devotchka.

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