Succumbed

Instagram's twin and I are having an affair. It's long overdue so we're not taking it slow. It's like I've known of this app forever -- it's been right under my nose! I've been checking it out from a distance. But I never thought it was in reach. Or that I could just download it. Silly, right?I know.

I almost do nothing else with my time other than crop pictures to fit my approval, apply retro filter, upload. Of course, there's the process of asking people what they think, basically shoving singled-out images in the faces of my loyalists and going, "See, see! Nice na?" I'm telling you, I'm telling you, my pixels are aglow.

App don't work too well on TEXT images though. Look at these freaks. Can you read what it says? 

'Give us this slip and we'll get you your car. Although we do our best to treat it nicely, we can't accept responsibility for any car related theft, damage or loss.'
I may as well park outside then, right?

This is on my morning walk/run/jog/stroll/amble. The watchman had a radio and was listening to chikni chameli. What's not to love! Look at the colour of the bougainvillea! Oh and the light, the light, the sun barges RIGHT through the jungli creeper. Was a good sight. 

 

 

 

 

I got bloody grease on my hands moving this badly parked cycle out from in front of, well, my boss's car. We were going to lunch. It was a heavy bike. Either that or I was in delicate flower mode. Still, it had a deadly kerosene smell and, there's just something about unmanned cans of paint. I washed my hands before eating, yes

 

I made my father french toast for breakfast on his birthday last week and smeared it with peanut butter. He turned 65. I haven't smoked since that day, as a I don't know, remedy to him earlier having called me "pale and uncivil".
And that's plum jam on the side that my grandmother makes at home. My batch always has less sugar. This one went a bit sweet. But that's age, I guess. Still, was pretty good. And familiar. And I love the plate with the poppy motif. I love poppies. And my father loved the breakfast and my present and said, thank you darling for such a great start to the day. :)

Marmalade being made at home. It's sticky orange poetry, really. And my grandmother's cook is a pro. So, the preserve is already made and kept on the side. Here, he's boiling the santre ka chhilkas, the 'rind of the tangerines' so that the water is flavoured with orange, and he can add that to the preserve so it becomes more liquidy, more spready, more jam-like. To add a certain bitterness, you know what he does? He puts the seeds in that immersible-sieve, the tea strainer thingy, and lets that boil away so there is that flavour as well.Told you - pro.

Sort of a shit picture. Taken both lazily and hastily. But I like the steam and the stained tea thing -- what do you call it? -- the chai ka patila. I like also that this person, the chai-wallah below my office, is looking away. I kill time here with a person from a neighbouring office who calls every other evening and says to come downstairs, chal, chai pete hain

This one is something of a favourite. Something of a you-can't-always-get-what-you-want... moment. I was driving back home after a weekend that crawled but also flew by. January. My black overcoat. I know I was vulnerable and teary but also, little bit, brimming with joy. I know I was seeing things in a skyline that were going to disappear sooner than that sun. And I was telling myself, chin up, it's ok, this is good, you'll be fine. Would I rather not have known the view existed? Ha. Not a chance! This was beautiful. I felt beautiful.