Nothing’s really changed about the city – wafts of food, faeces and faith emanate from the narrow lanes! Everything’s same- the slowly burning pyres, the pot-bellied cops manning harmless streets, loose clothed tourists leaning in to hear young guides, the buzz at the aarti time – only the river is swollen to almost 20 metres higher, barring me to walk from one ghat to another.
Harsh realities are like a slap on the face compared my preposterous insecurities of city life! It’s only about survival! Topics like a dead mother, drugs & booze, flesh eating babas, homelessness, lost love and physical disabilities flow cheerfully through seemingly inane conversations – the ability to deal with this ruthless life is brushed away effortlessly by a bunch of ‘good friends’. I feel so deprived!
I’m pampering myself to heady indulgence in things that don’t touch us & in moments I’m a little appalled at my own brazen intrusion into private lives of people. My only justification being that they don’t really care and take life so seriously.