Family

Andamans with Mumma and Papa

How was Diwali?

Hi. 

Bangles

Saree-parts

And concentrates

Hard on not

Smiling.

Bye.

 An evening with my uncle ended up at someone's karaoke party - the old school way.
This was the highest scored that night. 

Afternoon dream

I've gone home to live, and everyone at home is bickering. I can feel negative vibes from everywhere. I slip out for a few moments to let things settle and for me to have some time. I go out onto  balcony. The colour is mostly pale green and it looks like it's been molded in plaster of paris. There are lots of odds and ends in the balcony. I find a lovely, smooth reclining surface to sit on and gaze out onto the-

It's the sea. The balcony is a boat now. I look around and I see Abhay. He's with 2 friends. They're laughing. They say they've always wanted to go surfing into the sea. I think about Pallavi- and there she is, plump like she used to be when we'd gone to Lakshadweep. She's wearing a grey zipped-up jacket and shorts. She's sitting on the far end of the boat and she's slouching and smiling at me a little sadly. There are lots of other people sitting on the left edge of the boat, who've all come to surf.

Suddenly, the boat is huge, huger than any boat I've ever seen. Pallavi is a speck in the distance, that's how big the boat is. The waves are really huge, dark grey in colour, and are falling onto the boat in large, sharp rectangles, and with great force. When a particularly large one has passed, I am surprised to find people still on the boat. I get some spray on myself now, and I see that everyone is having a really good time, cheering and screaming. 

I am back inside the house. It's Shamoo's birthday. Manjoo atya and Aji and Aai and Jaydeep are at home. Maybe jaydeep has just come from somewhere. He has a helmet in his hand. 

There are puranpolis with a bright blue filling. There's no cake. Aji tells Shamoo to cut the blue puranpolis instead of cake. She's okay with it. It seems normal, there being no cake. Maybe she chose it to be like this. Shamoo comes down in the black and white Chinese dress. She's wearing some strange crystal thing in her neck, like a small crystal locket on a chain. She says, "How do I look?" She looks happy. 

sites

Went for a drive with family today into the scratchy highway hinterlands of Kongunaad and many mud roads in. Rivers of red in the sky and there we were between two plots of land, gated and strewn with thorns. Teak will grow here, and here a farm house; a half-court. Imaginations of the parents rise as we stare into the few acres emptily. Left for Sindhu, right for Mru. Where in the world is this land, one of the silent prides of my family, where the soft soil crumbles and reshapes constantly under our feet? I don't know how to own it, but here it is - piece of earth that is mine to keep. Our neighbour - a man of 80 who refuses to sell his land because it gives him something to do that money will not. He tills the land and tends to it by himself every day, 2 acres. When he dies, his children will split it, possibly sell it. Other descendants of agriculturalists will buy it. I know nothing about land but just one generation ago all of my family was knee deep in mud and paddy. Most of it still is. My parents say they will go back to agriculture when they retire. Not many will have the privilege of feeding the country in a few years, they say. The evening was my coming out party in my pyjamas. Our guests, in Mruthun's plot of land - a family of goats. For 15 minutes, brother, sister and father stood there bleating at goats, goats bleating back. Laughter and wind. A borewell, shut. Returned after sunset and no power in the house. Off into town to buy peanut butter and bread.

Two more deaths and a funeral.

My friend Conrad's parents were killed in a road accident two days ago. Today was their funeral. I haven't cried in a long time, today I did. It made me very sad to see him so blank, chewing his gum and looking down at their graves as everyone threw handfuls of mud over their coffins. He is the only child, Conrad Simmons, living amongst uncles and grandparents - it tore me to bits thinking about that. I am glad to have a brother. The world is better with siblings.

slurrrp

summers are for jumping on cupcakes into splashy rawmango glasses.

Belongings

 I found these, his old specs from when he my age. He collects things for memories.. too.

muru

i'm loving being with my cousins but i miss my brother. the circle is incomplete. there isn't anyone to smirk to about the curly R's and nasal O's in words like xerox. i found these pictures on my computer by accident, i think he forgot to delete them. joy!