Tuesday, April 10, 2012

The picture of tender greys

Eighteen photos.

I counted.
I took eighteen photos of this couple that to me was the textbook definition of tender. I felt a little slimy invading on their privacy, pretending to be clicking other people, but really watching their every twitch as they went about being literal and laid back in the lawns, soaking in the music, eliciting from me multiple layers of awe, respect and envy. But I pardoned myself for being slimy; I know how badly I wanted to click them. Her. Especially her, as she absently but normally stoked her husband(?)'s hair. It seemed like so not a big deal. And of course it wasn't a BIG deal.. except... wasn't it? I don't even think the blood thinners in my stream dictated my feeling warm at the sight. Or the nip in the air. Or the utter gorgeousness of the venue. All of that was making me drift, yes, but that wasn't all it was.

Maybe I was being something of a.. a -- you know, like how when city people go to hill stations and obsessively  take touristy shots of just about every beautiful anomaly that is mostly an anomaly because you're so starved for it in the plains? (Which, by the way, is a description of me and my having taken 1300 photos taken on my last week's trip down south, to the Nilgiris with the girls.)

Maybe I was being sort of like that about this lovely looking tender couple. A .. 'relationship tourist' starved in the plains. Aspiring watcher from the side lines, filled not so much with envy as with hope.

They really were something. I wanted to talk to her. Again, her. Him, I didn't have an opinion of. But I liked how in my eyes he seemed so normal and accustomed to this amount of absent affection. I was keenly aware how if they were younger, I wouldn't have been half interested. They're plenty of those, even in the plains.

It's the oldies. I'm always extremely indignant when I see a middle-aged couple walking side by side and there's so much distance between their bodies, fingers trained to avoid rather than brush against. I'm especially hurt when the man walks ahead.

It must be a comment on how I view relationships; that it's one thing to go aww and sneak a picture (or eighteen) of what to me is a still-in-love couple and admire how tastefully evident it is, derive from two people hope, and allow my thoughts a free reign - I wish someday I am her. And yet, I'm sad that I view a tender relationship as an anomaly. If only the mountains visited the plains more often, I wouldn't be such a tourist.

There was this super elegant dancing woman who did some fantastic Bharratnatiyam moves to at least 4 bands. Pity some sleaze ball men won't let her be. (Actually, not men. He was a check-shirt wearing brat with braces. Boys get younger and more immature everyday, I tell you)

Sigh, and then there were these loud jumping jack types... ; fortunately or not -- and I wouldn't go so far as to call them friends -- but they're known entities, all these bouncing balls. We 'hung'.

(So you get an idea of the venue): My friend and I chug a bit of grape juice with some strange Rum. And salt? And lime? Few times over and then some. We did good.


NdeL said...

So cute. <3

I know a Muslim couple above 60. The husband calls his wife "Janu" as she goes about cooking kebabs and meats in the kitchen (we mostly visit them during Eid). They're adorable, especially to me as my parents..um.. TMI.

P.S. - I thought I was the only one who secretly clicked pictures of total strangers if I found something interesting about them. xD

Nimpipi said...

your parents? :)) your father calls your mother jaanu?:D that's adorable. you know, i used to find endearments corny when i thought i was cool. But now I've given up that charades and decided corny is totally cool! :D

Random clicking of strangers, not cool at all, but what to do. We lack the self discipline to hold back. If it helps, sometimes I ask if I may..

The Unbearable Banishment said...

You are interpreting to suit your fantasy. Still waters run deep. You don't know the true nature of their relationship. And why no interest in him? Your inner snob is showing.

I've been waiting for these trip photos. The last one of you + grape juice looks like a vintage sepia tone look into the past. Was that intentional?

What is "janu?" And is it spelled janu or jaanu?

Nimpipi said...

True. I realise I have NO idea what their relationship is really like. Envy was based entirely on gut. They looked content. Would the contentment appear that genuine if it were an act? All these none-of-my-business questions were flying about in my grape-soaked head.

Why no interest in the man, I'm not sure. Maybe in this totally shallow way -- that I found nothing at all attractive about him, but SHE obviously totally did.

Jaan (pronounced like 'darn', long vowel, minus the r) means life. Meri jaan means my life. So janu (not so much jaaaaanu )is roughly but not literally like sweetheart.

Retro look of photos, yep, totally intentional. But the sky really was that pink.

NdeL said...

No..no.. not my parents, the Muslim couple I talked about :)
GAWD do I wish my parents could be like that. Oh well :)

Uh.. I don't really feel guilty about clicking them *sheepish grin*

I used to find endearments corny too, until I got called stuff like "My love" by my love. :D

Pringle Man said...

love. these plains could do with some mountains, its true.