An ode to Delhi - Between You and I

And tired it sleeps, for tomorrow is yet another day
When it will be blazed by the sardonic summer sun
Blatantly gleaming at the season’s yellow flowers
That line its reminiscent, colonial boulevards

Those summer soirees must still commence
With pleasant chatters and sips of hot, promiscuous teas
Whether on a pavement’s broken bench
Or in the suites of the elite camaraderie.

And tired it sleeps, for tomorrow is yet another day
When hearts filled with purpose tread its artsy roads
While at another end in the blinding bling
There will be celebrations by phony, purposeless hosts

And tired it sleeps, for tomorrow is yet another day.
When Lutyen’s dream would have utterly failed
At the hands of fast burgeoning scrapers
Heartlessly tearing the city’s coveted veil.

And tired it sleeps, for tomorrow is yet another day
When it will be frayed by the winter wind
Numbing those helpless homeless hearts
That line the historic, colonial boulevards

That winter whining must still commence
With chatters and sips of hot, promiscuous teas
Whether on a pavement’s broken bench
Or in the suites of the elite camaraderie.

Even Snow White must Cleanse,Tone and Moisturize !

Goldilocks was hungry. She tasted the porridge from the first bowl.
"This porridge is too hot!" she exclaimed.
So, she tasted the porridge from the second bowl.
"This porridge is too cold," she said
So, she tasted the last bowl of porridge.

"Ahhh, this porridge is just right," she said happily and she ate it all up.

While Goldilocks relished every bit of the perfect porridge, we tasted the bitter sweetness of perfection – an obdurate aftertaste, sharp enough to cause even the pickled ginger to implode with shame.
“Perfect” seems rather commendatory. It is undoubtedly synonymous with the ability to exhibit an ideal disposition, achieve that which is desired and that too (at least to others) , rather simplistically.

Visualize Carrie Bradshaw(from Sex and the City),stepping into the streets of Manhattan in her Manolos.The New York breeze caresses her blonde, blow-dried hair .As she sips her Starbucks Hazelnut cappuccino ,she turns to cross the road, only to see herself in the desirable Valentino couture gown on a billboard as part of the month’s edition of Vogue. When she says “Life is perfect” with the iridescent gleam in her eyes, one can literally hear the heavy sighs of admiration from all those dreamy eyed souls. We all wishfully wish to be Carrie.

Cut to reality, did you know Carrie wasn’t nestled but perched on that unkempt study chair, in her unwashed-for-days pyjamas till a night before, surviving on re- heated pizza slices, without a shower, with black-coffee induced puffiness under those otherwise always mascara-d lashes. Trying harder than hard to shell out the “perfect” piece for the magazine’s anniversary edition, which had to have the most artistically inventive metaphors, describing some chic New Yorker who epitomises sense and style, 24*7.

Paradoxical, isn’t it ? Was the flawless panorama that left many a hearts gasping, just a short lived façade? Is what goes on behind the pretty scenes of life “Oh! so banally real “

Don’t await a miraculous “No”.

To be able to reap those sought after moments of a fable like joy, Carrie had no choice but to unconsciously shed the conspicuously “perfect” exterior while reality was around, as it possesses the innate ability to engross you, capture you and make you oblivious of any fairytale-ish precision. After all, once Goldilocks had savoured the porridge and the 3 bears returned, she fled for her life.

Prudence lies in accepting the shift without getting endlessly entangled on either side.
The key is to waltz in the perfect moments while they’re delightfully around for when the clock strikes “Pay cheque”, Cinderella must just kiss the prince goodbye and run to catch her carriage or the credit card statements will read defaulter !