“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve begun our
descent into New Delhi and we should be landing within the hour. Could you
please fasten your seatbelts and begin wrapping up – believe us, you won’t be
able to use the lavatories soon; If it makes you feel any better, our cabin
crew will be making the rounds to make sure you can get rid of whatever loose
items are around you. The time at our destination is 4.45am and the temperature
is hovering around 21 degrees – we hope you had a pleasant time flying with us
and we will update you with baggage carousel details once we land.”
It all depends on who you are.
If you’re me, you’ve already heard this one
too many times. You’re tired of hearing it. If you’re you, however, this is
probably the most exciting thing to pass by your ears in months. I respect
that. I envy that. I really do.
It is, indeed, 4.45am and I’m looking at
you, but you don’t know it. The colours in the sky are turning and I’m sitting
on the ledge at Boheme.
Boheme is home to me. It’s a little rooftop
café – that’s five floors up in the middle of Huaz Khas Village. To me, it’s
more a part of the sky, than it is – a part of the city.
It sounds cheesy, I know – but some of the
best times I’ve had this year – have been up there. I wouldn’t think about it
twice though. Given a long enough timeline in Delhi. I’m sure some hipster cunt
will bring you up here. It’s an inevitability. It really is. I think it’s unfortunate.
So – the ledge.
All through the morning and the afternoon
(and probably the evening as well) people put their drinks and their meals on
this wooden ledge. The lean on it, they put their cameras, phones and elbows on
it – but they won’t sit on it. They won’t sit on it – because it’s far too
intimate a reminder of the five stories that they’ve climbed. It’s a long way
up – but a ridiculously short way down. It all depends on the route you take –
but then again, it’s 4.45 am and nobody else is here – apart from me – and the
owner (or one of them.). Maybe you’re looking at me – and I don’t know it.
Either way, I’m lying down on the ledge now, staring straight up at the stars and staring straight up at you.
I’ve just finished playing a gig. Well – 'just' being a few hours ago. You’d think
I’d be on a high – but I’m not. I think
you’d be on a high, too – and maybe you are – though what do I know – because,
if you had any sense to you – you’d think I was on one too. It just goes to
show what we all know.
I did play well tonight. Under the
circumstances, you could say that I exceeded my own expectations. You did
pretty great too, I bet. We both left our comfort zones for a little while.
Perhaps you more substantially than I. Everything was just fine – until that
point we both decided to just put ourselves out there. Not because we needed
to, but just because that’s what makes sense to us. Because sitting still, is
just No Good.
You know, I’m still looking at you and
what’s more, is that I do envy you.
I finished playing a while ago. A few
hours, even. I’ve had a lot to drink since then – but that doesn’t seem to make
much of a difference to anything. I’ve seen quite a few people go by, but
somehow You’ve got my attention and you don’t even know it.
It’s quiet up here. It always is – and
tonight it’s cold. You’re blessed before you even touch the ground. That’s how
this city weeds people out. With it’s weather. If you can cut here it, babe,
you can cut it anywhere.
I’ll be honest with you – while I sip on my
beer and try not to shiver in the middle of September – I do hope the job that
made you come here, the boyfriend who you’re chasing, the spiritual chasm
you’re trying to fill, the holiday you just need
to have. I hope it works for you. I really hope it does. I don’t know You,
but I do want that for you. I want you to be happy. I hope you find yourself –
or at the very least, what you’re looking for. I hope you can scratch that
fucking itch that’s so hard to reach.
Meanwhile -
I’m sitting here tonight – wondering what
it means to improvise. The basis of everything I do. Apparently, I play jazz –
that’s what they tell me. It also seems that I’ve been doing it for a while.
So, I’m wondering what it means to play hundreds of gigs, with hundreds of
thousands moments of spontaneity – some so divine that they border on the edge
of spirituality itself – and some making less sense than the babbling of a baby
– but I realize that at the end of the day – the two level each other out –
each of them coming back to the same home; rendering the two of them as full
and as devoid of meaning – pending only to your perspective.
Like a spoon of sugar in a glass of hot
water - the question will lose it’s focus – from improvisation – to everything
else, but neither of us have that time. Your plane’s about to land – and you
haven’t finished your movie yet. They’ll cut that off, anyway – but maybe you
should wrap up that form.
I wonder if you’re hesitating. I doubt it.
Why would you, if you’ve come this far. Right?
Right..
You know, love -
It’s the same paradox, that makes me look
skyward – to you – and at you. While you glide down – one amongst thousands -
while the other 259 people around you feel moreorless the same thing. Everything you’ve left behind, I’ve already
lost – and everything you’re going to gain – I hope to find some day.
We’ll probably never cross paths, you and I
- but I do hope you find what you’re looking for. You don’t know it and neither
do I, really – but we’re on the same page.
You’re looking at me – and I’m looking at
you.
Reminding each other that there’s a world
larger than ourselves out there.
“Cabin crew, please take your seats for
landing..”
I want you to be happy, I really do.
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