Episode 277 : Turning 32 and other stories

Thirty two is a much better number. Like thirty or thirty six. Somehow thirty four and thirty eight don't sound so appealing. But the odd numbers in the thirties are even less appealing.

Two years into the thirties and I sense a calm in me. Something to do with the age, I tell myself. I see myself taking each year with the same calm. Till I reach thirty nine.

That year will leave me confused and wondering how life would be at forty and beyond. Maybe that is when it begins.

* * * * *

'How could you even think like that?' she demanded.

I was at a loss; I had no idea myself. 'I don't know' I shrugged.

'You lived more than half your life here in Madras, hardly 4 years in Bangalore and you change like this?' she continued as if I had said nothing.

I played it in my head over and over again.

The Mylapore festival. I was looking up and down the so-called Food Street wondering what to do next. I had just finished eating some kesari and sundal. I saw a board that said "Mangalore Bonda Rs 10". With a large smile on my face, I walked towards the stall.

The family was frying bonda for the next batch of impatient customers. One look at them, and I knew they were Kannadigas, not Tamilians.

The smile turned into a grin. I instantly felt at home. So much, that I, someone fluent in Tamil and not Kannada, almost asked them for a plate of bonda in Kannada.

'And you are not even fluent in the language' she cut in, breaking my thoughts.

I smiled. 'I know' I said, but I did not know how I could change allegiance in less than 4 years.

* * * * *

I dropped the camera in Hampi last month. And the sales center confirmed nothing could be done without replacing the entire lens system. The lack of a camera hurts more today than the day it fell out of my hands onto the rocky ground. It hurts so much that I don't see myself planning road trips till I get another, or arrange to get the film cameras repaired. Going to a place and seeing it with my eyes instead of looking through a viewfinder is an experience I have forgotten.

Perhaps I should look to recapture that lost experience instead of wondering how the place will look in a photograph.