Silent company

I have a new favourite time of day, Reader. Every morning, Panda wakes me up at around 5 am by the simple expedient of jumping up on the bed and sitting on my face. I take him out, bleary eyed and shuffling while he prances about, offensively cheerful. After we come back in, I collapse back on my bed, which he takes as a signal for commencing round two. He proceeds to chew on my hair till I cover my head with a blanket. He then chews the blanket. When he tires of it, he sniffs around the room, looking for other things to chew. He has little or no discretion when making his selection, one day it's my handbag, the next it's my cellphone and every so often, it's my computer's power cord. Semi-comatose though I am, my subconscious wakes me as soon as it realises he's being too silent. Yes Reader, I'm awakened by silence.

By 6 am I'm wide awake and it's light out. We run out of the house together, scaring squirrels and mynahs. I draw my energy from him; when he's so impossibly cheerful about being outside at dawn, some of it rubs off. After we've expended out initial energy, we meander. Panda sniffs delicately at flowers, which sight amuses me endlessly. I address my remarks on the morning and any minor epiphanies I have to him. He makes for a very good listener. We meet other people walking dogs whom Panda proceeds to jump at them, his whole body quivering with friendliness. After exchanging pleasantries we walk on, and Panda keeps looking back till he gets his leash tangled with my legs.

Our walk lasts for an hour, Reader, and it puts me in a good mood all day long. I think of all the silly things he did every once in awhile during my day, and smile.

Delhi

Oh Reader, I do love it so here. I'm in Delhi and there's grass here! And there are trees, lots of them, in our very backyard! And the other day, I was laughing as I watched a half grown black and white dog chase clumsily after butterflies when I heard a thump on the roof above me. I ran out and looked up to see a peacock there, Reader! It had the loveliest cobalt blue neck and it wasn't the least bit shy. It made my day.

 For the past couple of weeks, I've been happy almost without trying. We finally have our own kitchen where I can cook with my own familiar old pots and pans.I have the dearest little room with a corner especially for my veena and giant windows that keep it alight with sunlight all day. There's a perfect corner next to my bed where Panda curls up and sleeps, whenever he's not eating or playing.  Panda is thriving here, he's made friends with all the local strays and escapes whenever we leave a door open, to go out and play. And I've been writing, Reader. I've actually felt like it, after ever so long.

The only snag is that I don't have an internet connection there yet, so I can't talk to you as often as I would like. But that will soon be remedied.

The Sun

Reader, I've been silent a long time, I know. The thing is, I come here time and again, begin to type and then stop, because I don't quite know what to say. It's a constant conflict I have: where to draw the line? I'm here to share my life with you, but how much is too much?
So today, finally I decided, no explanations. Our relationship is such that we don't need them. We share happiness, not sadness. So today, I'll tell you what made me happy. It's been raining cats and dogs in Mumbai, a dreary, grey sheet of rain that seems almost diabolical in it's timing. It waits Reader, till I think it's safe to sneak out for a few minutes, and then catches me unprepared and drenches me gleefully. But today, the sun won the battle it's been fighting for the last three months, with the clouds. It shone out, triumphantly and I went out on the terrace, to bask. There's light again around me, coulors are brighter the geese in the pond outside are loudly and untunefully happy. I am happy too, because I am leaving here soon. Very soon.