10 April, 2008

Park Parody III

The other day, I met marigold boy and had a very enjoyable time away from work and other unrelated stuff. Laughs were laughed over double barreled french fries, 'very light luggage', some train clothes and other such extremely unlaughable topics like what people look like when they don't know how to operate their very snazzy cameras and whether standing opposite a shop in C.P means standing in front of or diametrically opposite it. I managed to categorize 'Delhi girls' in a highly unflattering manner, laugh about this highly unwatchable and definately avoidable movie called Race and listen to stories of couples, albeit eavsdropped.

Today was one of those frighteningly productive days. I worked and I worked. Then I was rewarded by a, I quote, "bland conversation" full of politeness of the diabetic variety. And then I decided to wrap up the evening with a walk in the park. Only, I was too tired and went and plopped myself on the first bench in sight. Anyway, going to the park has to definitely be one of the brighter things I have done this year (apart from buying Lucy Peck and not keeping resolutions of course).

The park was atwitter with birds. Sparrows and bulbuls, doves and pigeons. A mynah and a crow. A windblown nest, a twitching squirrel. April was clothed in her garments of green, mighty peepals in tender greens, the neem covered in numerous little serrated edged leaves, the semal tree recovering from losing its treasure of sanguine flowers, shyly blushing its way into a burst of new leaves. But the mulberry tree was my treat. I greedily picked up dusty fruit from the ground, brushing off the debris and unamused stares from peeping toms, relishing the syrupy sweetness of the tender caterpillar-like fruit. M and I jumped in a gravity-defying manner, willing the tree to stoop for us to pluck some more. I scowled at my physical disadvantage at this sport. Mulberry trees certainly weren't made keeping short people in mind. And that too those who were particularly passionate about the fruit. Gaah.

The breeze was blowing in a breath-taking lilt. If you spread your arms wide enough, it actually tickled your armpits. The fragrance of unidentified flowers merged with the laughter of two conspiring kids that were hiding in the hedges as they plotted the intracacies of a very serious game of chhuppan chhupaai. A bunch of old punjabi ladies sat down and hooshed us away good-naturedly. Two school boys made us feel rather old as we carried our grocery for the day. Two liters of milk. One loaf of very tasty garlic bread.

Just when you are exhausted of your mundane existence, days like these skip along reminding you its all worthwhile. Can you help but smile?


  1. "April was clothed in her garments of green...."

    "I scowled at my physical disadvantage at this sport."

    "If you spread your arms wide enough, it actually tickled your armpits"

    "The fragrance of unidentified flowers merged with the laughter of two conspiring kids..."

    Yes, They made for a smile :P

  2. Its litres, not liters...

  3. i cannot help but sympathize with marigold boy. I feel his pain :)
    Though I have rarely spotted anyone break the 5 second rule for food let alone picking fallen mulberries.

    A hard earned day's rest, gratifyin indeed. Though for me, its the other day incidents that make working worthwhile.

  4. Anonymous12:28 am

    which park's that in Delhi?

  5. pd,smith - :)

    piper: Yes. centre, metre. We must write propah english.

    haru: What pain did marigold boy go through? Baah. Other day incidents? Eh?

    anon: Its doesn't have a name. It's anonymous.

  6. chot khaaya anshul pain :)

  7. We laugh away our fears, lies, and secret stories
    We miss what we missed - secluded parks, hushed memories
    Bland conversations seem to you like a welcome respite
    What about the other? Was (s)he smitten by vengeful spite?
    Let's digress to less disturbing topics, only "natural"
    To change tracks. Leave philosophy to a lesser mortal
    The mistress weaves her magical robe. Of flowers, of colors
    Some seem enamored, some amused. Intrigue it is to others
    We continue to live our hours in mundane mediocrity
    Where's the breath of fresh air? That sudden serenity?
    People walk pass by, ignore them. Why care to bother?
    You wish you were different, less selfish, less like Other.
    Don't you remember being told selfishness is no sin?
    I, Me, and Myself. Ah! You realize with a sheepish grin.

  8. haru: Ha ha...no wonder roosi and isoo rolled off your tongue so easily! Now I know.

    kekda/kenchua/whatever miniscule living organism you choose to be today:
    Was he smitten by "vengeful spite"?
    She doesn't mull over something so trite.
    The virtue of selfishness, the sin of a smile,
    Bland conversations taste blander when kept for a while.

  9. right.. go ahead and take a stab .. just what i need :(



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