Anjali sat on one of the chairs, shaking with age. She kept her cane to one side and looked at her watch.
As the minute hand crossed 12, two more women, as old, perhaps older – no one really knew because no one was keeping count – sat on the remaining chairs, kept in readiness for them. Anjali picked up her glass – scotch, neat – and the three women cheered.
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It was the time of night when the heat finally dissipated into the air above and the dying embers slowly turned to a cool breeze that sent shivers up the foot that had the misfortune of straying out of that cozy blanket.
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For someone whose livelihood depends on reading, I read few books in 2018 – so few that I had a meltdown and immediately decided to make a shorter TBR list from my never-ending pile of TBR to help focus the reading in 2019.
All was going well. I spent a wonderful December picking and choosing 18 books that I thought I should read in 2019. I tried to mix them up a little, add different genres, different authors, and I thought I had a good repository. When I shared the list with my friends, I was rather proud and couldn’t wait for 2019 to begin so I could take a stab at the list.
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“Christmas tree, my Christmas tree…”
“Sonny, what are you doing?” asked Mother seeing the boy perched on a stool, taping the broken glass. “Who did that? Are you hurt?”
“Don’t worry mommy. Billy was trying to get in. But I fixed it.”
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“This is silly.”
“Nothing is silly.”
“Everything about this is silly! The colours, the jar, the little fountain…seashells? Really? Come on!”
“Suchita it is a birthday party…”
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I love auto rides and showers. There are no better places to contemplate life than here. Is it the journey or the flowing water that provides a conducive environment for thoughts to turn away from the hustle bustle of every day life?
A chance comment from MP – this is the last time you can say you’re in your 20s – and the subsequent realization that I’ll be changing boxes while filling standard forms led to the inevitable meltdown that I was turning old, I had no remarkable achievements to speak of and I’m still reliant on my parents to keep me alive.
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The contrast between the brown and the green was stark – like nature had drawn an invisible line separating the two.
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That time of the year – people are making resolutions, some have broken them already, some are rallying around the idea, some are talking about pending resolutions from 2015 like it is a TBR…on a side note have you noticed it never goes beyond 2015? No one has said my resolutions from 2003 are still pending. Maybe it’s just the power of memory that prevents us from remembering such uncomfortable and unhelpful truths.
My point is there are enough memes and jokes and opinions on the matter and this post is not going to be on why you should or should not make resolutions. But this post is going to be about intentions – in case the title didn’t give it away – sorry spoiler alert.
I still remember
How happy we were
Dancing and singing
As we painted the blue sky.
I still remember
How quickly time flew
When I was in your arms
As we painted the night sky.
