Notes from setting up Ayang Trust Library - Part 1

I’m lying down on a black and red mattress as I write this. Two mattresses, actually. Just finished lunch. Today was a relatively easy day. I got up at seven, made some breakfast and lunch, went grocery shopping, gave instructions to the artist who’s been brought in to do some artwork on the walls. It’s something from a book called Little Laali by Tulika Books I think. I’ve picked out the image where the little girl is getting drenched in the rain. The artist has already sketched the painting and will return tomorrow to do the paintwork. One of the painters is covering the layers of brick and cement with plaster. As we ate lunch, we talked about the rigor that traditional theatre requires. So much is still left to do! I’m seriously wondering if everything would be done by 20th August, the launch date for the library.

A packet as arrived today from Delhi, from Mridula. What a coincidence! I gladly opening it, to discover a treasure of Duckbill books. These would be a wonderful addition to the library. I really hope that someday children start reading these, because these are probably beyond their current reading level. The library here is going to be for everyone. This is a two-room and balcony space for Ayang Trust. On rent, I think. The balcony space is for the library. The place is still under construction so I’ve become involved in decisions like what would be the display area, what the shelves would look like etc. the carpenters here haven’t worked on a project like this before so I’m also getting into finer details like width of the shelves, incline, gap (vertical) between two shelves and so on. It is quite interesting, although exhausting at the same time. The carpenter primarily speaks Assamese/ Mising which I’m totally clueless about. So usually someone is required to translate so that we can communicate. We decide to put shelves on three walls - all on one side (the only permanent/ brick wall side that the room has). I’m a little concerned about the fact that there is a tap very close to one of the shelves (maybe 3-4 ft). I would ideally like to not have the shelf this close to the tap, but we don’t really have much of an option.

Shelves:

• Width: 8”
• Gap: 4”
• Shelf Height: 1 ft/ 1.5 ft

The place has bamboo vegetation all around and that will reflect in the library space as well. 3 out of 4 walls would be partially/ fully made of bamboo structures. On two sides are drop-down bamboo curtains and the third would be a fixed bamboo wall. We’re also going to have plants in the corridor, right next to the stairs,

The teacher in charge here is Rakesh, from The Hummingbird School. He is already familiar with some aspects of the library and is especially excited about displays. He has also done accession numbers for Tulika Books that the team at Ayang Trust has procured.

The Wind and the Stars

I knew that if the car came to a sudden stop I'd end up breaking a bone or two. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. All I could feel was the slight chill in the wind that crashed against my face as the car raced along. And his fingers entwined with mine. I was standing through the sunroof and looking at the road ahead, quite drunk on happiness.

"Can you see more stars now?" he gently asked. I don't remember him parking the car along the roadside. Just this, that when I looked up, I saw a zillion stars twinkling against a dark sky. I rested my back against the roof of the car and stared. It was beautiful. I tried to remember when was the last time I did that, but couldn't. I thought I'd thank him when I was slightly less tipsy.

I'm guessing that it was a while before we said goodbye, because I don't remember that either. "I'm glad you came", he said. I was glad too, I told him. What I didn't tell him was that I was going to remember the wind and the stars for a really long time. 

Home Again

A thousand thoughts breeze through my head as I write this. I'm flying back home tomorrow. The word has changed its meaning over the years. I was home before I came to another country. Right before that, I was home at a girls' hostel. And I was home at my parent's place too, before I left for good.

Right now, a swanky downtown apartment is what I call home. People at work who are unconditionally nice are family. And I'm feeling emotional as I leave them behind. Well, not really - I'll be back in precisely five weeks. But then.

It's the same feeling every time - excitement mingled with a little twinge of parting with something. I have to admit, I do feel anxious - what if I've changed enough to not blend in effortlessly? What if I've changed enough to not feel home at all?

Phew. I do need to party tonight; keep these thoughts at bay. And think of all them smiles that will come my way, real soon.

You want to hold me, keep me from going away. You try to keep me under bondage, forgetting that you can’t, no matter how hard you try. I might temporarily take the shape of the vessel you cage me into, but very soon I’ll find a crack and I’ll get away. I travel to new countries, exploring the new and the unseen. En route, I merge with the mighty and the humble alike, losing my identity and becoming a part of them.  

You want me when the heat is unbearable on a summer day, like sweetness exploding from cloudy skies.  When the pain is intense, I’m the bitterness flowing from your eyes. I can be a life giver and preserver, nourishing the seeds you sow. When angry, I can wipe it all away.

You know me. I am water.

And then it was all over..

I thought I had erased all your memories. But today, when I pulled the last splinter out of my heart, it hurt again. Everything came back to me - love, hatred and the pain. The latter was so intense I thought I couldn't breathe anymore.

It took me just a fraction of a second to realize that distances don't matter. No matter how much I run away, I still think of you. I've given up on the idea of us, but you still have the ability to hurt me beyond repair.

You've broken my heart yet again, I'm just hoping that this is the last time.   

The day everything changed

On my way back from work, I stopped by a park. The simple act of lying down on the tender grass and looking up at the bright, blue sky filled me up with peace. So much, that I could feel the mist in my eyes. This was going to be my life now. Bright and clear. Full of possibilities. Everything that I had ever wanted suddenly seemed within my reach. Without any worries.

Kept fighting my tears till the time I reached back. And then, I didn't fight them anymore. Dialed the phone and let them flow. Heard a voice on the other end.

I was happy.

A New Beginning

Sitting amidst a bunch of strangers, I suddenly felt alone. The same thing happened last evening, when I was sitting with a bunch of 'desi' people. I was supposed to feel at home with them. But I didn't. I felt much more comfortable in my apartment, watching the vast expanse of ocean. So calm, that it filled me up with peace. And comfort. I got the same feeling when we drove past the beach yesterday.

The city to me is very romantic - tall archaic buildings, streets dotted with museums and warm, friendly smiles. I'm telling myself that's why while walking down yesterday, I felt like I was missing something. In the evening, the fog outside my window gradually enveloped my soul, I found myself craving for some company again. Picked up the phone and dialed. A sleepy voice responded. I didn't say a word.  

Friend in a New City

I was in the window seat of the last row in the economy class. Outside, a stream of lights flickered like fireflies. I knew I was taking a leap of faith. Hopefully there would be no regrets.

She had the aisle seat and was deeply engrossed in Hemmingway. I looked at her face, trying to read her story. She shifted in her seat with great difficulty; it was quite evident she was in pain. With what, I couldn’t really figure out. I shifted restlessly during the flight too; for they make me very uncomfortable. So I followed my usual routine - just plugged in my ipod and dozed off.

I must have done that for quite some time, because I woke as the airplane touched the ground. I usually rush out as soon as the flight lands, hating to be confined to a closed space. Today I couldn’t.  So I just waited patiently, giving her the time she needed to vacate. She was hesitant and asked me if I was in a hurry to leave. I wasn't.  She wanted to wait till everyone had left; I was okay with it.

Arushi from Lucknow, she introduced herself. She had a bad case of spinal cord dislocation, which made movement painful. Strain from work, she told me. The doctor had advised her complete rest. This trip to Mumbai was to wind up work commitments.

In the ten-minute conversation that I had with her, I discovered that Arushi  and I shared quite a few things – a love for literature and the rains, a deep fascination with the ordinary, everyday things and the constant hunt for the extraordinary stories wrapped within.  Oh, she too had dreams.

We exchanged numbers over a cup of coffee, hoping to keep in touch. The long taxi ride was worth it too (my friend was generous enough to take a detour, to drop her on our way). She spoke passionately about how she was living her dreams every day and that this was but a temporary pause. Her eyes lit up as she talked and I could see my aspirations come alive in them.

As I waved her goodbye, I felt a deep sense of calm within. I had just befriended the city of dreams.

A day made!

What does it take to make someone’s day? Very little, I say!

Earlier this week, a friend bought me four tiny saplings of marigold. Needless to say, they were extremely delicate. My heart broke when one of them died. And the second one followed.  That made me extra cautious with the remaining two. I watered them every morning, made sure they got enough sunlight - even talked to them (yes, I actually did that!)

Last evening as I was about to crash onto my bed, I noticed the third one had dropped down. It was lying lifeless in the red china clay pot. My heart sank. Just kept wondering where did I go wrong! I watered it, caressed it and retired to bed, not wanting to pull it out and dump in the bin.

Guess what greeted me this morning? The tiny sapling was standing up again, ready to face it all!

That’s what made my day today. I know that the thought of my tiny sapling will make me smile throughout. And you know what, it takes very little to make someone else’s. An unexpected compliment, a fragment of thoughtfulness or even a smile – that’s all it takes. Obviously, the list is unending…

So whose day are you making today? :)

Just another incident

Have moved into completely new surroundings, living each day with the carpe-diem motto. Tried forcing myself to write quite a few times in the last three months, but didn't feel anything was interesting enough. Went back home for a couple of days, and had quite a pleasant flight (I usually get nauseated). There was something about the entire journey - that gave me reason to write.

At the airport, boarding was about to begin when I realized I needed a quick bite. The next moment I was holding a tray laden with food (I'll explain my new-found love for food in some other post) trying to balance two handbags alongside and find a place to sit, all at once. There was a four-seater occupied by a girl about my age. Realizing there wasn't an alternative, I had to ask her if I could share her table.

I ate silently, carefully avoiding her gaze lest she decided to smile and begin a conversation. I could feel her eyes looking at me, hoping I would look up. Then suddenly she broke into giggles, and couldn't help but look at her. Must be a college kid, I thought. Thanks to my crappy mood, I wasn't even smiling. Come to think of it, I think I was making her uncomfortable with my demeanor. She quickly started explaining her situation - she was an artist who had just finished a painting exhibition; an the anxiousness of it all had given way to a huge appetite. I don't know why, but suddenly it all made sense. I was suddenly at ease. She excused herself to get a change; in the washroom I bumped into her again, making small talk with the attendant.

As I left behind the fireflies tossed into the Delhi night-sky, I promised myself to write her. That reminds me it is still due. Gotta run, good night!