I have been hopping between windows peering at people's facebook profiles, contemplating finishing the book I've been reading, and also finding new reasons to evade the text book on direct and indirect taxes. It's a week day, I'm on long leave of absence from work, and therefore have the luxury of complaining about the boredom, the unrelenting sun and the extra-soft mattress.
Some time back I was pondering over the possibility of my next blog post being a book-review - "The Better Man" by Anita Nair. I have not particularly enjoyed the read so far. I wonder if that is another sign of having grown up. The previous book authored by her that I had read when I was back in early college was "Ladies Coupe" and I was truly in love with her. So much so that I prided living in Bangalore, the same city that the author lives in. But with this book it's vastly different. Some characters are well sculpted, but there is some shallowness I find with the rest. I have grown up, I tell myself. My taste has matured. I decide upon Vikram Seth's title when I go book shopping next.
And then the face-book profiles distract me. Mostly my class mates from school. People I have not heard of in ages - ever since class 12. We are now in the mid twenties. And it seems uniform. The girls mostly have sultry pictures of themselves with peers from their work or university. Its quite typical - Black/red tops, heavily kohl lined eyes, painted nails, dangling earrings. Something felt silly. As if they have stayed at 18. Or it's possibly just me. May be I'm the one who is strange.
I have the time to make these indulgences now. And I miss those days I spent by myself in the later days of college, when it appeared that I was the only one in that whole city who chose to stay single. Sometimes I felt alone. I chided myself for being unattractive. But now, I've been married a year now. I've lost that grouse as well. I certainly don't miss being single. I'm not alone any more. But I miss being on my own. Taking off on a stroll just like that. Long naps. Doing nothing. No questions. No answers. A single room, I kept straightening time and again was my pastime. And thoughts. That was then - some four years back. It all looked so disdainful then. But now, looking back there was colour. And I'm happy with the way it was.
Even now, between typing this, sneak peeking into other peoples face book profiles, missing my husband and my old life, thinking about how much my life will have turned in a month from now, thinking of the air conditioning in which to enjoy my noonly siesta, my head nods, and I stop right here.
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