The Armchair Paradox

Heart-aches and realizations are wondrous murmurs. Unscheduled, variously encountered, and harbingers of change inevitable. 

Delicious and cloying is the inertia of rest. The warmth of the experience of a thousand languid mornings steeped like cats basking in the sun upon a tropical winter sunrise, seen from the cocoon of a sleep warmed duvet. 

Vicissitude by definition evokes those snooze button mashing reflexes. Memories ooze honey-esque to lull and dull every modicum, twinge, throb and instinct for inevitable, necessary transmutation.

The Bengali transcreation of আরামকেদারা (aaram kedara) for armchair and supine bliss is more apt than the English suggestion of mere support for the upper limbs in contrast. The trouble arises in getting off an aaram kedara. That it's wonderful? Undeniable!

So is slowly ripping a band-aid off, one hair pain twanging follicle at a time, from a progressing laceration.

Unarguably inevitable and essential. Maybe not so exhilarating. 

Just like shedding accumulated adipose, belongings, and task back-logs before a journey.

The first step that sparks of that journey of a million miles? Sweet chimera and delusion. It's rather unfashionable to dwell on the killing urge to sit right back. Straight after that step.

My landlord of the last eight years and I spoke of the chasm between the thought of change and the perspective of the hard deadline and it's sting of inevitability. In his acceptance into priesthood from laity he opined in wisdom, "...what if the armchair is just not there after I get off it?"

Morning opus

Waking up to a morning dream is living in a reverie for a moment.
Divinities conspired and a handful of relevant stars just clicked into the right location to blossom the moment.
Like behind a roaring cascade the monsoon poured torrents between the foliage outside and picture of contentment within. Mommy Catty nodded off looking at her trio of kitties congealed into a happy and warm pool of purrs hugging a pair of boots. Either armpits of mine had warm curls of a cat each when a dream illusioned a fragment of happy unreality.
27-7-2013

Dora Dora

Sun beams light the leaves in yellow and green
Sparrows are fluttering like leaves in a breeze
The world outside the window is a tempting one
Where pigeons await to provide a little sport
Striped like a tiger built like a cat
Doradora was christened while behaving like a brat
Largely found sleeping whether in the house or out
The appeal to play is fierce at oddest hours

Affection stirs up old memories and joys...

My rented flat in Mahim (probably) firmly cemented my reputation as a crack pot in the eyes of all my acquaintances and friends. Nobody will probably understand why I instantly liked (and rented) a flat that divests me, monthly, of most of what I earn. I saw the two cats looking inquiringly at me, a wooden staircase, and the spectre of something from a warm and fuzzy from the past and made up mind.

I am resigned to the possibility of perhaps never having a pet. For various reasons. Mahim is one place where I could walk onto the street and immediately interact with happy and 'pet-like' animals. Both dogs and cats. I am sure if the hygiene permitted, I would be petting the rats and bandicoots as well.

I have never lived in a locality where the 'stray' animals on the road and so unabashedly affectionate as in Mahim. When J had questioned how I possibly could like the little coop she lives in, one of the many factors that had grown on me was the animal factor. Of course these are things I could never articulate at those crucial moments of inquiry.

Saddled with a cranky maid who severely detests cats (and open doors and windows) along with a landlord who advised "not to send up the cats if they come to your kitchen", I was in for a treat when a feline duo adopted me.

Now, the cats come to sleep every night at my place. The white cat had a litter of five kittens. Four white and a grey and orange one. When my dad came to visit me in December he woke up one night and was startled to  see a 'house full of cats' one night... The white one had come visiting with her entire brood!

To go home back to a cat (or any other animal) is very comforting and brings back floods of memories of Pune and catty.

On a lazy Sunday

The alternating blue and green eyes gene...

The offspring