Someday I want to travel so much
that I get tired of it. I want to soak in all that is there in the world, seek
new experiences, and live to tell fantastic tales of and about the people in
them. I want to visit all those temples that hold meaning for me, about the
legends that shape them, take amazing photographs of them and write about them
into a coffee table book that highlights their pristine and serene beauty. I want
to climb a mountain and watch the sunrise in the distance. I want to take sips
of tea from the thermos, sit, and revel in the beauty. I want to leave a small
indication on top that I have been there. I want to shout out to the world from
the high and feel the wind on my face.
Someday I want a place that I can
call MY HOME. With the name etched on a wooden board outside, a little bell
hanging by its side. A small cozy two-storied haven. Wild flowers growing
around it. A small stream gushing by the side. At the foothills of a mountain
maybe. Idyllic. Plenty of windows that let the fresh air flow in. A sky roof
that lets the sunlight filter in and on which the pitter-patter of rains can be
heard. Plenty of woodwork, and wrought-iron work. A well-quipped kitchenette
and pantry. Cookbooks lining the island in the kitchen. . Plenty of nooks and
corners. Minimalistic designs.
Someday I want to be with a person
whom I can cozy up to near the fireplace on cold winter nights, maybe with a
glass of steaming hot chocolate by the side. Someone whom I can just lie with
my head on his shoulders watching the embers in the fire die down, talking
about small things that may or may not matter. Maybe take in a movie together
with fingers entwined, or just cuddle up within one blanket and fall asleep in
front of the stonewalled fireplace.
Someday I want to have kids, who
will scribble on the walls, make me yell at them, or cajole me into joining
them on that. With whom I can work on school projects with, make clay models,
have them potter around behind my back, asking me a zillion questions about the
what and why of everything.
Someday I want to have a dog. A Lab that
gambols around and answers to Sargent. One that wakes me in the morning. One that
never leaves my side and sticks onto me like glue. One that I can snuggle up to
days that I feel alone and miserable. One that begs me with those puppy dog
eyes to take him out for a stroll on those balmy evenings after the sun has
set.
Some day in my haven, I want to have
a studio, with a mural of Lord Shiva on one wall. Shelves filled with books,
knick-knacks from travels, curios one-of-a-kind, and Amma’s paintings. Hued colored
walls, muted shades that throw shadows and patterns during twilight. My dance
anklets. A small music system. Multi-colored throws and rugs and cushions that
brighten up the place.
Someday I want to write about the
things that make me ME. The smell of old books. 4am conversations, which are
peppered with lots of laughter and sober moments of realization. Windswept hair
during fast bike rides. Drizzles on the face while taking long walks. A glass
of rum on cold nights with people who matter to me. Military prints. Sarees.
Ethnic jewelry. Adventure sports. Writing. Mythology. Temples. Tea at the
roadside stalls. Hot molaga bhajjis. Vatthakozhambu. Filter Kaapi. Sunsets on
beaches. Smoky eyes. Dance. Music. FRIENDSHIPS that make or break the world for
me. Early morning quiet. Easy conversations. Surprises. Random hugs. Long
drives. Card games. The very first sip of tea or coffee in the mornings. A good
movie. Songs that touch the heart. Cycling. Traditions. Slokams. Roadtrips.
Someday I want to turn these dreams into reality and write a book that I
can pour down all my life’s worth into, one that I can read in my old age, look
back, and reminisce about a life well lived.
Someday....
