The Other Side of Life

You can tell a lot about a city by how it deals with rain. I grew up in Delhi. Delhi has a spattering of monsoon showers. Touch and go. It will be sweltering hot. That in-between period when the cooler is no longer effective and the possibly huge AC bill lingers on your head. You will be cursing the weather gods. News about rains from other parts of the country will become anathema. All conversations will start and end with talks about rains. And then, finally, it happens. An extremely hot afternoon will suddenly give way to dark intense clouds and a heavy downpour. Just like that.  And just like that, people stop working. There'll be plans for pakaude and chai. People will rush home early.  And just as suddenly as it started, it stops raining and work resumes.  I cannot count the number of times I missed school because, rain.  Maybe it's meant to be like that by design. Rain makes people in Delhi wait for it. We are at the flag end of monsoons. After the whol...

The good news is, I still come to my blog when I have to vent. So, basically, the blog has a space in my life. Yay. Now that we have established that, let's move on to the venting.  My piano. My beautiful keyboard. Stopped working. 😟 I am not a great piano player. I was a horrible piano student, when I tried learning professionally a couple of years back.  But I do know this. I love playing the piano.  I don't learn all the typical songs. I am not good at reading notes. I am not a speed player. I cannot play in front of people (other than family).  But I love figuring out notes and chords of random songs I love and then keep playing them again and again and again, till I can hear the notes in my sleep.  That's my MO. And I can't do that now. And I am feeling so bad about that, I am sitting here in office fuming, silently wiping away my tears because I just learnt it can't be fixed. My keyboard was a good companion. When I moved to Singapore, Sher...