B’lore Days
Date is 21st May 2010. Am at GK’s chic little studio. There are mirrors everywhere, some portraits of models she did make up for and lots of classy cubist furniture. Reds, yellows and creme are the main colors- well- apart from the spaces that mirrors add to the small apartment. There are three and a half rooms with one kitchen- where she can make delicious Dal-Chawal at 4 in the morning (even when she is drunk) and pours Vanilla Vodka- crystal clear like her heart- as a gesture of love- from her secret little bar right underneath her breakfast table. The table almost always has a delicious loaf of bread from Tom’s Bakery. The bread is softer than most of the cheeses I have had in my life, and the love in her eyes is softer than the bread. We all call her the Goddess.
Choke. Cough! Cough!
This is how weed is when you smoke it for the first time. Then you pass out in 15 minutes- after exchanging a few dull messages with your ex. Then, for the next few days your throat will itch and your mouth will be all dry. They call it cotton mouth. Huh! More like cotton soul. A few puffs and your soul stands right in front of you- changing shapes like Mystique in X-men. One second it’s the old confident you- all happy and full of young arrogance, the next moment you are what you had become in the past 10 months- a pathetic needy fool in love, and then, you are the semi-transparent-semi-confident-semi-confused person of present, again.
Another few puffs- and if you practice enough- then you can see your future. That’s why people get addicted to weed. Me? I live in the past. I once sold my past and present for a future and it left me destitute- almost at the verge of beggary. Future is so not me. I leave it for the little match girl for her cold Christmas night in the forlorn Anderson story.
