I like early starts and today was no exception, 6.30am on my day off and in spite of the gloomy skies, I felt like Miss Merry Sunshine from the moment I awoke. Alan was just about ready to leave for work, I kissed him goodbye, pinched his bottom and grabbed my usual extra-large cup of coffee.Hand washing some clothes was the first task I had to embark upon. I love the fragrance of clothes that have been washed in Lux Pure Soap Flakes and always hand wash my favourite somewhat faded t-shirts from Colaba, Mumbai in these luxurious bubbles. There is something very reassuring about wearing those t-shirts. I think it’s because they smell of India… and Lux. Mum and Nadia would add … “And you have Shah Rukh on the front!” Well, maybe that too.
I started to fill the buckets and enjoyed the warm sudsy water as I mixed in the soap. Turning the t-shirts inside out, I caught a glimpse of Shah Rukh. That set my monkey mind in another direction … it was off-peak internet time … and there was a new episode of Shah Rukh’s Kya Aap Pachvi Pass Se Tez Hain? (Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?) ready for downloading.
As many of you know I have fantasies – and no, I don’t mean of Shah Rukh, but of the day I will be able to speak Hindi fluently, but to date I still only understand a very bare minimum. Not too long ago, I discovered this wonderful site online www. srkpagali.net which provides Shah Rukh Khan devotees with high quality AVI videos of his movies, interviews, advertisements, TV shows etc, with subtitles. I sighed and gave in to my addiction … no … can’t wash yet … must download. You see, I know my weakness, and I will only end up downloading during the peak period if I did all the chores first. What to do yaar, I am like this only, nah? Shah Rukh-jaan … mein ari hu.
Pleasure comes in many forms. Most women like massages and a visit to a spa; a lady I used to know when I worked at Citibank used to treat herself by having her eyelashes dyed and her acrylic nails French-tipped regularly. Recently, I heard that a friend of a friend is currently finding much satisfaction in fine dining. With my 46th birthday just around the corner it got me thinking – what is my idea of indulgence? What do I have a weakness for?
One of my greatest pleasures is our home of ‘hippie opulence’. I must thank Vicky, one of Donny’s friends, again for providing our home with that allusion. The first thing I do just about every morning is light the tea-lights and sticks of incense in my kitchen and pay respects to the little Buddha on my counter. I love the way the trailing patterns of rising smoke infuses our home with its sweet earthy fragrance as I sip my morning coffee in the deep morning silence. Often I sit on our Indian style floor mattress which is swathed in a black and gold embroidered mirror-work Rajasthani counterpane. Reclining on the matching bolsters, I cannot help but breathe in the smells of India that it still clings on to.
Speaking of hippies made me think of The Beatles and thinking of them made me think of the sitar – told you I have a monkey mind. I remember the first time I tried to attentively listen to Ravi Shankar. We were in Dharamsala in a shop selling beautiful handmade items from the Tibetan Children’s Village. Ravi Shankar was playing a raga in the background – I listened and wanted so desperately to understand what all the accolades for this man were about. And of course, I was extremely disappointed. You see then, I was listening with western classical music t
raining in mind. I was completely unaware of the magic, a sitar in the hands of this absolute master would someday evoke in me – that rhythms and vibrations in a raga could be a spiritual discipline in my path to awareness or that a thumri which is a sensual romantic semi-classical style, would become a favourite. That I would sit at my computer writing my blog entries listening to his beautiful daughter’s music. I don’t mean Norah Jones – but Anoushka Shankar. It is mesmerising the way her music gently caressing the air around me.
Alan and I remember the air in India, it is at times other-worldly. The red glow that so commonly is depicted in photographs and films of an Indian sunrise is real. I have stared directly into that red for several seconds as the sun begins to illuminate the morning, on more than a few occasions as we journeyed through the sub-continent. Surag namaskar, my salutations to the sun for there is something about that red and all its related hues – that just transports me onto another plane. Everyone knows my weakness for colour. I have no qualms at combing red, pink and orange together with azure and emerald green. Our journeys had gifted me with the unbridled desire to indulge in rang … colours of India without caution or trepidation.
Trepidation … that word always reminds me of the first time we flew in to Mumbai – all the guidebooks mentioned the terrible traffic jams, the fumes, the busyness, the slums and the beggars at traffic-signals. I was convinced that I would loath the place and reluctantly agreed to go only because the flight was a freebie and Alan said we would stay three days – I have never been more wrong about anything in my life and have to laugh at my foolishness. Amchi Mumbai - without question, going there is like returning home.
bbsigh … 
Think I’ll go make myself another coffee, put on Anoushka’s Rise CD and light another stick of Nag Champa. There’s an article on the Baadshah I’ve been saving for a rainy day like today. I am following my bliss – everything that reminds me of India is my life’s great indulgence.
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