I miss you my Chennai.
Disclaimer: If this post unintentionally causes harm, resembles reality and brings back old memories, the butler did it.
You turn to me and ask whether it hurts to be so nice? Is it difficult to be this person? I smile. I am not making an effort to be so. This is me. I do what comes to me naturally without thinking twice. Why is it that this nature seems daunting, odd, fearful and unaccustomed to many, including you?
Luz corner creeps me out. The junction that is so familiar seems very distant to me. Its probably because I have been focusing so much attention on a lot of things that I would not have cared about a while ago, that I have lost sight. The little things I enjoyed, the minuscule observations that I made, the conformation to change I adore seem like things from the past. Maybe my city is going through the same gamut of emotions too. To change or not to change seems like the question of the hour amidst blaring vehicle horns, fragrant Jasmine braids, little tots running behind their moms and the bells of the Navasakthi Vinayaga temple.
A pat on my cheek brings me back to you. You are not convinced. You still tell me it is not possible to be this way. I tell you I have not been any other way. I do not know if you will ever agree with me.
We walk past the Bombay halwa house and the smell of their delicious samosas hit my olfactory receptors, doing a "should I eat two or not" jig on their way to the limbic system. Sanity prevailed coupling with the fact that you hate the place and anything thats deep fried, I decided to pay no heed to the evident advances of the golden triangles. It was your idea to stop at the Hanuman temple and I thank you for that. We walk around the main garbagraha and I look at you take a small pinch of the kungumam and apply it in between your eyebrows, your eyes closed, thinking about things that will take eons for me to understand. To me, That simple conditioned act seems so powerful, evocative and humbling.
We step out of the temple, hand out some change to the reclining mendicants by the door and continue walking down Royapettah high road. You lean against me. I sense your taut shoulders pressing against my ribs. You seem bothered. I put my arms around you as you lean against my nape. A smile escapes your lips while you find your own cozy corner. I kiss your warm forehead, consecrated by the red sindhoor. A trace of red finds its way onto my lips, while the warmth permeates you. I look up at Thiruvalluvar calmly sitting over PS sivaswamy salai for an instant, only to reacquaint myself with the curious brown eyes looking at me inquisitively. Its going to be a long night.
We walk across Brindavan Street close to the overbridge and watch the revelers make way from the Gandhi beach. The crowd intimidate you for a bit, but the myriads of happy faces have an aura of their own. The energy that permeates the night makes everyone put their best step forward. You take my hand in yours and drift aimlessly. I wonder what you are wondering. You look at me and smile. The same smile that caught my eye, the one that makes your eyes light up and curves the corners of your mouth. That same smile, following which I cannot comprehend what could happen next.
I know we have our tribulations, doubts, insecurities and faith (or the lack of it). I know that during this winding course, things will not end up being what it seemed. We still carry on, being ourselves, believing in the things we always did and said, say and do. Thats what makes cold dreary nights not so gloomy. Our world conforms to us eventually.
I bend down to kiss you as you tug my collar, arching your neck and closing your eyes. Before our lips touch, we both stop and look either way. 3 kids gape at us, their parents next to them gape at us. We look across the road to see a traffic police man gape at us.
I got up, straightened my collar, winked at the kids, nodded at their parents and did not make eye contact with the cop. I take your hand in mine, tug you close as we match our steps, walking down the long road ahead of us.
