Monday, January 5, 2015

Delhi word vomit

Location: Uncomfortable chair in the Delhi airport waiting area.
Condition: Wobbly handwriting due to weak hands, in turn due to lack of sleep.

Feels like I am in a time machine, more than usual at airports. Time is liquid here. Listening to "As Long as you love me" by the BackStreetBoys playing at an overpriced cafe nearby. Waiting for a reasonable amount of time before calling Lava again.

Should I Fedex, or should I not? There is currently more Hamlet in my life than usual, because of Jonathan Safran Froer's "Extremely loud and incredibly close".

Why do airhostesses wear so many hairpins? Do they leave a trail of them wherever they go, like a modern Gretel? Is their existenc shaped by their montly excursions to stock up on myriad pins?

Mental note to buy Chumbak-like souvenirs for folks. But first to make a list of such folks. Is it 6 am yet?

I'll fill the days with usefulness. The same resolution I make everytime I go home on vacation, which invariably crumbles into days of nothingness. This time, hopefully, it will be something-full days.

I will call her in 5 min. If she doesn't answer, what then? Some more walking and word vomit I suppose. Does her apartment have an elevator? I hope so.

The soundtrack to my airport walkabout has turned into Enrique Iglesias. I need to escape.

I heard recently about a theory that teenage angst + hormones are a myth and has no science to back it up. But it apparently has gotten so popular, that everyone beleives it, even teenagers themselves. I think that this is one myth that has come alive. The world would make much less sense if most myths rose up from the ashes created by science, came alive and flew.

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