There’s something to be said about the human experience and the urge to share it with others. My entire therapy session went in “updating” my therapist about everything that transpired over the last weekend. It was one of the most adorable, confusing, rejuvenating and annoying set of days I’ve had in a while. After long deliberation of “to go or not to go”, I decided to skip an event I was hosting and go to Pune with my family. My friends would manage the event smoothly (and they did), but I wanted to be in Pune for Abba’s 91st birthday celebration. A long winding Intercity Uber later, we joined old and new friends over drinks in the massive living room - as old Pune homes tend to have. 10 of us sprawled over cushions and carpets with beers or whiskeys. As I went to sleep past midnight on a makeshift bed in the living room, little did I know the series of interactions to come my way.
My ex-boyfriend is a designer, an artist, and a cat dad. He’s very warm, with salt and pepper hair and his left arm serves as a gallery for growing tattoo collection. Surprisingly, I wasn’t nervous to meet him as much as I was to meet Kaju, the oversized cat I’d helped him adopt. To my dismay, Kaju didn’t remember me. Cats seldom do. But he warmed up to me in the 2 hours I spent in his space. I also didn’t expect myself to tear up whilst talking to my ex about my massive life-pivot. He introduced me to procreate, encouraged me to buy an iPad, gave feedback on my initial art. He even predicted that I’d be building a queer community and writing original work eventually. Two years later, I am. The words said over coffee in the balcony of his old house were coming true. And now I hope that our relationship will evolve into friendship once more.
I bumped into two friends from my college Rotaract days while entering a cafe. They’re married for years now, and the husband of the couple has been a steady and staunch supporter of my creativity over the years. We promised to meet over coffee, and I hope it’s not one of those hollow plans you make to people you pass by.
I’ve known C since 2015, and for the first time I felt like things had changed. Our friendship has always bloomed in Pune on my visits over the years. Only twice did he come to my city, and that’s okay. It’s just how some friendships are. Here’s a snippet I wrote late one night about the last time C and I spent a whole day roaming about Pune.
Our bones experienced a simultaneous loss of control and our scooty flew of its own accord to the u-turn. We found ourselves outside the bakery, carried forth by the strength of the fragrance. There's a saying in Hindi - ghode ko paani ke pass le ja sakte hai, pani nahi pila sakte. You can take the horse to the water but you can't make it drink. Determined to NOT be that horse, we went up the steps and to the glass counters to eagerly quench our thirst. The walls, the counters, the benches were all overflowing with baked goods of every kind -cream rolls, nankhatai, khaari, butter, tea cakes, pastries, rusk, puffs. How did we decide what to get? I made myself choose a maximum of 3 items, all stuffed in a brown paper bag before they were stuffed into my tummy.
The young adults (ages 15 to 22) all left to spend the day at some cafe in Koregaon Park. I barely said hello and they were gone in a swirl of tote bags and headphones. In some crossfire of conversation, I barely heard words. I caught myself asking dad what was going on, where was everyone headed or planning for later? I caught myself. Was it my responsibility to know where my sister was heading or when she’d be back? No. Not when dad and other adults were right here. If they needed me, they’d wake me up. If they wanted me somewhere, they’d ask me. If not, I’d be found on this sofa, reading into the night. So I shrugged, pulled a black floral crocheted throw over myself and drifted into an afternoon slumber. My therapist was proud of me, and so was I.
Old people are confusing, mostly because their views are so conflicting. As the sun set over a few beers, I found myself on this new old aunty’s indoor swing. Her soft cloudy hair electrified mine into a Mohawk struck by lightning. She’s never met me before but had a wonderful handmade wallet to gift me. She praised my sister’s Urdu and called Palestinians pigs. She said I speak like the youth, Muslims just pretend to be refugees in order to encroach countries. She didn’t understand LGBTQ so she actively asked my dad advice on how he managed to accept the concept. She accepted that not all Muslims are bad but more of them were bad and more of us were good. She asked me if empathy is more important in a therapist or sympathy. Her daughter married a Muslim and her granddaughter is a pro-Palestine protester. She wants to be my friend.
One of dad’s friends has a drinking problem. Over the weekend, he drank until 3 am compulsively wanting to finish a bottle with whomever would give him company. He always finds company. He also doesn’t need someone to talk to because he talks at them. They’re always the same stories. I’ve never liked him and earlier I would avoid gatherings that he would be present at. Then I realised that’s too much power and he’s not the kind of man I’d like to have any influence over me. So I’ve learnt to tune him out. Thank goodness for books and audio books.
Jay is a bird watcher. She has two sons; one of them is a cat. She bought me a cat-inspired coaster and loves my Kulfi on social media. She also got me a cute diary because she believes that diaries should be gifted only to those who write. Stationary should be used, objects are meant to be enjoyed. She tells me that my dad always speaks highly of me. She likes my poetry, she says it’s very observant. She says it with the same factual enthusiasm that she points out birds with. I’m always welcome in her home, it’s especially cosy in the monsoon.
Life is all about the human experience, and I concluded my rant to my therapist with “okay I’m done talking, you speak”. And so she did.
Until the next cloud burst,
Vedi
You're writing is full of wholesome details, it always makes me feel like I'm right there with you. ❤️