As much as it was solitude and bliss, beautiful tranquil nature all around, it was lonely at times, specially without better half and without any restaurant or even a samosa shop nearby! The little TV with dish and the data card I had was my connection to the world with the city being a forty kilometres away with a bumpy road and unpredictable traffic and a toddler at toe. But I guess this was the year I had read maximum number of books, started blogging. There was a power cut at eleven o clock every night when I put away my book and slid behind the mosquito net. But I longed for the city and some so called hustle bustle sometimes.
I enjoyed my little long holiday in Delhi given the boredom and missing spouse. It was a mixed bag holiday with health playing some tricks on me, my little one..but then life is something you have to squeeze out some happiness from and no perfection awaits us anywhere. Onset of Delhi chill, mall hopping, long rounds in SN Market, Karol Bagh in the foggy Delhi sun and yes...mouth watering Shawarmas at Defence colony Al Bakes, those crispy fried besan pakodas covered with muli and mint chutney at Lajpat Nagar (Ram laddoos) and the show stopper... sending my help for Chole Bhature from INA footpath .. once husband steps out of the house 🤭..well he can't be blamed considering my non alcoholic fatty liver and high triglycerates (whatever that means). Speaking of Delhi, can't get over the taste of good food and good times... that hot cuppa at Barista with a warm almond muffin and a new found husband 😁, rediscovering same old relationship in Saket malls sharing a plate of Sushi..watching deer and peacocks with daughter at Hauz Khas in a leisurely warm sunday morning and of course Dilli Haat with its colorful bangles stoles and yes yes.. fried momos at Nagaland stall..with red hot chutney..and not to miss the sabudana vada at Maharashtra stall.. ah yes the foody in me is up, awake, hungry and relishing, savouring good times...
 |
| Colourful Dilli Haat |
 |
| Christmas |
 |
| Deer Park..Hauz Khas |
 |
| Sushi at Sushiya.. Select City Mall Saket... |
After the crests and troughs.. health problems in family, being stuck in a fog affected Rajdhani Express but toddler of my daughter keeping everyone busy in the compartment.. finally I was back and I was about to write back to where I belong..who knows where I belong to...that four lane clad, malls and flyover embellished city of Delhi where somehow I found my little space ( I know many would object to me occupying little space 😛), city of Guwahati where school college university days zoomed by in the bank of Brahmaputra.. or this place where I am supposed to spend one year more and had spent another year earlier in my first job. In Delhi I'd always feel I belong somewhere in Assam in Guwahati..while at Guwahati I just longed to see the world and while being in this place there's a sense of calm and peace, a feel of ' Shangri la ' where time stands till and whose inhabitants hardly venture out of this land..but this loneliness I wasn't much equipped to bear it all.
Iva, the beautiful young girl with bright red lipstick in the days she is well and a nice flirty smile works in the office from eight to five thirty, has two sons at home, most of the days as I return from evening walk I see her standing in queue to collect water from the roadside tap, sometimes beating up her son and rarely sometimes her contagious sound of laughter catches my attention as I turn to see her sipping tea in the small tea shop with other folks, waving at me smiling with her kowai stained lips. There is Rani pale timid, three children at home, studying for her Class XII exams when she is not cleaning office and making tea, there is Meera smiling chatting , she lost her working husband of excessive drinking, left with five kids, no compensation from office yet. Meera runs a tea shop the lifeline of the airport.. provides poori for breakfast, simple rice sabji for lunch and roti for dinner. Sometimes I wonder without Meera's shop all the airlines staff, office staff, workers all would starve to death..even the passengers when flight is delayed because nothing edible is found inside the airport. Debo, Meera's helping hand, over worked, stressed out often sick with stomach ache and fever, sits in the shop from morning to night, without her pooris aren't fluffy enough, lunch isn't ready in time and when she is taking a break I have seen her carrying a pile of hay while returning from harvest. The pimpled, smiling girl..people say won't get married.. some failed love affair..who knows..
Peaceful the sweet fragile tiny office assistant whom everybody love to tease, Theresa hardworking shy office attendent..comes to office leaving her infant at home. And the numerous girls who run different shops, some sell Kowai the local betel nut, some pork and fish and in the local market day so many would flock around, some with a stoic expression, some using a smile to bypass the language barrier, oldies smiling and speaking in pure Khasi.. I hardly get the language barring a few stray words I have picked up..but the smile is infectious and the toil the hardship..my salutes to these women..
 |
| We, the women... |
No comments:
Post a Comment