The Balcony

The Balcony outside of my grandmother’s room, in Hyderabad, is a Technicolor swatch card with wild bursts of hue that you really have to see to believe. The colors so vibrant in the blistering summer sun: bright, happy and scorching.

All you had to do was step back into the room to escape the summer heat but then, just to reassure ourselves, we’d peek just one more of those ‘last looks’ to see, if all was still as should be.

It is a packed balcony of shocking shades. The red of the chillies, the green of Tulsi, the scraggly rose and the yellow-green of a creeper. The walls are pink; the tile, a mosaic. There is even an orange stool. And all this, in a small balcony of a high rise.

The Balcony wouldn’t be complete without my grandfather always sitting in a corner with his newspaper, under a shade, and my grandmother, reading, writing, sorting through grains or just plain keeping an eye out for the comings and goings of the building people.

As the morning sun hit it, it was warm and promising. In the noon, unforgiving. And in the evening shade, mellow and secretive. It was at that time of the day that the plants were watered..and the smell…oh the smell…you know, that rain smell as water hits the hot soil. That smell was there every evening, wafting into the room and then into the house.. It was summer..

I found pictures of The Balcony on my phone today, forgetting I ever even had them. And in this moment of nostalgia..feeling homesick to the bone.. how I wish for that little piece of summer…

Flashback

You know, how certain smells, sounds or even words can elicit a response from a long forgotten memory that you didn’t know you even had?

That’s what happened today as I was listening to this song, 'Wish You Were Here', Floyd. Its one of my all time favorite songs and I hear it so very often, always amazed and in love with the feeling that just takes over...

***

It was a hot afternoon, and we were at the local pub, nursing our beers. Just another of those times when the then centre-of-my-universe and I were ‘hanging out’, too cool to call it a date/relationship of course! I remember now that this song was playing. Nothing even mildly eventful happened that day; it truly is one of those random memories that you can recall years later, as lucidly as if it were yesterday, with no seeming significance.

***

In the dark, mellow lighting of the pub, perhaps due to the beers and through the haze of smoke, it all made perfect sense. The days were good and free. And for a while, that’s what the song stood for.

***

Heartbreak was always intense. I remember sitting in the Shatabdi, going from Bangalore to Chennai. Just waiting to be back home, in the comfort of my old room that I knew my mom would have ready for me. The rushing landscapes couldn’t compete with speeding thoughts!

Only in its teenage drama, could relief be found. Being dramatic can often be surprisingly cathartic.

***

Now of course am in a great place. But just this random afternoon and an out of place tune brought back some memories!

Suddenly, I see so many toxic relationships all around and I wonder if there ever will be a passion like there was when we were so young? When it was all or nothing, when we weren’t yet jaded? When realism, feminism didn’t convert the now cynics. When we were still innocent and looked at every relationship with wide-eyed wonder? With the enthusiastic promise of forever rainbows. When heartbreak meant getting together with your best friend at a sleep over and talking all into the night till you knew it wasn’t all bad. Till you knew you were better than that!

***

Thank god, at least some things haven’t changed!