Sometimes there are moments that I feel I am unable to share with anyone. Like how I felt when I visited my nani’s house a few days ago. Or when people talked to me about things that happened around her funeral. It was hard to swallow through those moments that felt like a lifetime. Sure there are many of us who were related to her by blood, but everyone’s relationship was unique and I never got the opportunity to say goodbye or mourn with everyone else. I blocked out tears through all of it. Yes, I would always choose that over being emotionally awkward, especially when nobody is expecting it.
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Mom and Dad had started preparing for my visit several weeks in advance. They asked me to send them my list of things to buy in India over Whatsapp so that they could keep everything ready before I landed. The smallest thing that I mentioned while being there was taken seriously and provided for. Somehow Dad also wanted to help me pack for my return trip. He has always considered it his speciality. Yes, packing. And he did do it while I was away meeting friends. I was not comfortable with what he had done (simply because I like to know what’s going in which bag) so I told him we will repack. And he did it again based on some 2-3 random things I mentioned. AGAIN in my absence. If this had happened even five years ago I would most definitely have thrown a fit. But this time it was plain endearing.
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It was a hectic trip. A lot of festivals, occasions, people and expectations. I aimed to do my best at meeting the maximum number of friends. Somehow, Avan was not available till the last day. Actually it is not surprising, but that’s how it was. But despite both of us being ill, we met and spoke and bitched to no end. It was amazing as always. My life truly is incomplete without her.
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I ♥ weddings. Make that I ♥ Delhi, Punjabi weddings’ sangeet evenings. I never realised my love for Bollywood till my perfectly normal husband pointed it out. We had planned this trip such that we could partially attend two close friends’ weddings. One of these was the sangeet of a guy I’ve spoken to once. But nobody at the event would have been able to tell given how I was rooting while the families danced and took to the dance floor when my songs played. Begaani shaadi mein Abdullah deewana. That was me. The only saving grace – I was at least invited. Of course, Chetak compensated by virtue of having been the groom’s college friend AND flatmate in London for three whole years.
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I have never spent Diwali away from home. Whether I was in Pune or Abu Dhabi, even if for two days, I always went back for my favourite festival. So I was quite happy knowing that even though I am in London now, we were able to plan our trip so that Diwali was in Delhi. And I did not feel any difference until the day of the festival; when I was at parents’ home only for a few hours. Diwali was at home, but it wasn’t at the home I grew up in. I still had family around, I still had all the mithai in the world, I still breathed in the heavily polluted air, the crackers still went off till wee hours of the next morning, but it wasn’t the same.
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This time Delhi was fairly warm by late November standards. But I managed to experience my favourite, heady feeling that comes with the elaichi-like smell in the air at this time of the year. It is definitely one of the top three feelings in the world for me. Without a doubt.
♥ Delhi. Food. Cousins. Friends. Favourite restaurants. Movie nights. Card party. More food. More people. Delhi. ♥
Fuchsia 