swimming, day 1

i started swimming again this morning after a year and a quarter.
my shoulders feel like someone jumped up and down all over them.
and my feet hurt. i didn't think that could happen?

(on the other hand, 1 km. 27 mins. woot.)



"the real reason i don't drink is because i think i'll be stuck in a state of inebriation and won't ever escape."



first world problems

back in a world with working phones and broadband internet and facebook and twitter and toilets and tv and skype and gchat and email (frikkin email!) and uninterrupted whatsapp after 4 days and i missed everything but nobody misses ME.


(also, i'm in a city for exactly 1 day in 2 weeks, and it's a city with no alcohol. can we all please ban ahmedabad from being a city?)



I’ve never received a letter
(hand-written, on aerogramme paper
with a stamp, quirky handwriting
a chat with the postman
delayed news from last week
or the month before. paper flying
across states or countries or continents
smelling of oregano or jeera or sambar
of home or a yearning for home.
ink blots made by leaking pens where
you stop to think.)

I have no nostalgia of my
own; only borrowed from my grandmother
or her siblings sent fifty years go
in a sack full of letters
(apprehensions about marriages to someone
i only know as my cousins’ grandfather;
or the weight of gold in a bangle
i know was stolen twenty years ago
by someone who took it to “polish it.”
references to polishing copper pots i
have never seen used; and excitement about
televisions they bought in foreign countries)
we found when we were
clearing out the attic of our
70 year old home.