Of airports and flights and travel

There’s something about airports that I love. I get a rush when I’m at the airport. I like sitting there, watching people. A slice of life. A slice of their life. When all else stops. When you’re forced to almost doing nothing. Out of your daily routine. In a limbo of sorts. Time stops in anticipation.. in waiting for your flight. Waiting for the next event. With nothing else to do in between. That transitioning. And observing everyone else in transition.

I feel at home. I’m invisible. Walking around, looking around, observing. I’m comfortable. I can make my way around just about any airport with ease. I dont know why. Or how. I just figure it out. I’m a traveller. Maybe its just in my blood.

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But then, I hate the actual flights. The compressed air makes my eyes raw and gives me a headache. I prefer sleeping through them as far as possible. Evening flights are an exception. I grab a window seat. I love the view. When you’re above the clouds. And they change colors as the sun sets. Orange then pink then grey.. before vanishing into the black sky.

Cities look so different from the air. It’s the one chance you get to actually see how the earth looks. How humans have conquered the land. Sad at times. Large patches of farm land give way to smaller, uneven patches. They in turn give way to a few scattered brick and mortar structures. With few roads. Then come the wider, outer roads. More houses. More brick and mortar. Till you see only the roads and the buildings. No land. At night they magically transform. A black canvas brought alive with shimmer, twinkling specks of yellow gold and white. Bulbs and tubelights. Roads weaving their way into the landscape lit by a trail of headlights. Weary travellers like me, maybe, heading home. Or explorers. Out on an adventure.

And then the airport. And landing. The time warp’s over. Everyone springs to action. To get their bags. To sprint out of the aircarft. As if they fear they’ll be left behind. Or that someone will steal their life. You can see the uneasiness. The pretenses. The wanting to look good, bigger, better. Impressions matter. Even in an aircraft full of strangers.

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I like travelling alone. I like the freedom that it gives. That I can do anything I want, whenever I want, however I want. Decide on a whim to go for a walk, or sit at a cafe, or visit whatever. I like the sense of adventure it brings. To Explore. I dont have to coordinate with everyone, I dont have to ask a second opinion, I dont have to conform. I love the charm of it. Being on my own. Being my own person. Just me.

The numbers that dont match

I turned 33 a few days ago. And the number seemed alien to me.

I see around me at work everyday, a bunch of 20 somethings – early 20′s – ‘kids’. I see their dreams, their aspirations, their attitudes, their hopes and their everydays.

I felt ‘older’ and jaded in comparison. Tired. Weary.

And at times, graciously wiser ;)

In the last 4 years, my world has been turned inside out, upside down.

From a size 28 waist, I went to size 38. I put on 15 kgs, and lost control of my body, and life. Every few months these last 4 years, I’ve been a different size and shape and weight. It’s been terrible for my wardrobe. And for my self image.

I’ve experienced the glamour and the pains of a start up. I was a SAHM for 6 months. And I went back to being a working mother, a techie one at that.

I lost myself in being a mother. I lost myself in being a caretaker and a bread earner. And I hated it. I hated the person I’d become. Mechanised. Lost. Cynical. Weary.

This year, at 33, I’ve been making the journey back. Back to being me. It’s been a slow process. But I see the changes. And there’s more that I’m looking forward to.

I like this phase, the thirties. Its a good age to be.

Over the last few weeks, I find that I grow more comfortable with myself. Much more surer of myself. And more in love with life. In all its colors – the greys and browns along with the entire rainbow in between.

I’m 33. But also somewhere inside me, I’m 28. And 22. And 18. And 10.

I’m all those persons. All those ages.  More than I’ve even been before. And I’m loving it.

The price we must pay

A butterfly is born from the struggles of the caterpillar. A phoenix is born from it’s own ashes.

It’s sad to see something beautiful die. Even though you know it is the price you must pay, for something better.

Any gypsies out there?

I recently moved cities. I left Bangalore, where I’d been for 7 years, and moved to Pune. And people think I’m out of my mind.

But it didnt feel strange to me. Saying bye and moving. Starting afresh all over again. Being in a new, unknown place. Being the new girl on the block, the outsider, the one who doesnt quite belong. And it feels right at home. This feeling. Of being the outsider. Of not quite belonging.

It feels like the most natural way of being for me. And I know no other way.

I’ve never lived in a city, in a house, for long. I cant fathom what it’s like living in the same city, the same neighbourhood, your entire life. Knowing the same set of people, for 20, 30, 40 years.  It’s not been deliberate. That’s just the way life has been. And looking back, I would choose no other way.

I’m a traveller. Always have been. And the few short years that I havent travelled, have been the odd ones in the my life. Where I felt lost. And disconnected with myself.  Know what I mean?

Vianne Rocher, Chocolat.

In Pune, then. Till the next winds.

 

These are a few of my favourite things: Creating

There’s just something about this song aint it? That takes you back in time. It’s like being 16 again. Seeing the world, and myself afresh. Except, I now have the experience and wisdom of all the years after the 16th.

Over the next few posts, I’m going to capture some of my favorite things. Do take a minute and share with me – what are a some of your favorite things.

1. I love creating.

Crafts. Paintings. Code. Software. Products. Meals. Business.

It’s a recurring theme. I love creating beautiful things. From scratch. Or from random, seemingly unrelated assortment of stuff. I love pulling it all together to form a complete piece.

I do that in my crafts. Making wall pieces from random wedding invites; making flowers from almost anything; creating a wall mural with just crayon and pencil; glass paintings, bottles made into vases, glasses made into elegant candles – endless list.

I do that in my cooking. Some of my most appreciated dishes are random concoctions that I just ‘threw together’. I start cooking with a vague idea of what I want to make; and then along the way I mix in ingredients, spices that I think will go along well. Jambalaya rice, un-named soups, pasta combinations, desi burritos  & quesadillas – I’m great at creating yumminess from random spices, veggies and left overs. Even if I say so myself ;)

I do that at work. In my code. In the bugs that I fix. I can easily dig into SW I havent seen before, figure things out and fix them. (or maybe that’s a tribute to the guys who wrote the code in the first place – they wrote it so well ;)

Setting up GameZen – the lounge. Got a real kick from seeing that empty huge hall come alive, just the way we’d pictured. To pull everything together from an image in our minds, to a real live kicking lounge that draws a deep appreciative sigh from everyone who walks in.

Call it a personality trait if you will. I see this coming through in smaller ways in everyday chores. That’s the beauty of it. Who you are, expresses itself in so many ways.

Care to share? Tell me one characteristic, one recurring theme you enjoy so much, that you find it shows up in all areas of your life.