She means the world to him

He finds her adorable in winter clothing.

Woollen cap held tight by ear muffs and covered with the hood of a sweatshirt worn over an old turtleneck. Cold feet in a pair of woollen socks layered by warm mittens. Freezing hands tucked in gloves borrowed from him, and dug deep into the hoodie's pockets. And this is indoors. It is funny how she feels so cold while sitting under the sun.

And then, under all this prudent attire, stick out a pair of legs, visibly slimmer than the upper half of her body drowned in layered clothing. The contrast is hilarious - reminding him of "cartoon legs" as he likes to put it. A very endearing sight for a guy who wears a simple t-shirt with sleeves ending a little above the elbows and thin nylon trackpants in 8°C.

He truly adores her. He finds different ways to tell her that. He told her this morning, when she came back from her yoga class. He complimented her again when she came back from the kitchen with her sandwiches.

And he told her the third time yet again when she was busy extracting some chutney from the fridge. He was standing right behind her, breathing into her hair. He whispered, "You always smell so good..." Then, as he noticed that the lid had been off the chutney jar, he realised he had misjudged the source of the alluring smell.

He confessed to her that it was the chutney, not her hair. Then he felt a dull jab in his ribs, probably from the nudge of her elbow.

Making Vitamin D while the sun shines

Greeting the elusive winter sun with a grateful smile, he rested his well-moisturised elbows on the railings of his balcony. Down there, through the filigree of leaves and branches, he could see and hear a group of teenage boys playing ball in the park.

He could identify many of them. A pair of twins who had been his ex-students. A pair of siblings who had recently enrolled into his classes. A tall boy with a croaky voice who seemed to be the leader of the group by the virtue of how confidently he croaked and dismissed his playmates.

There was tension between the two teams down there - heated arguments over fouls and the ball-throwing prowess of certain playmates. It seemed so real and important and serious to those teenagers. But he, from his vantage point, knew that this was just play. It didn't really matter. When these boys would grow up, they would look back, laugh at themselves (and harder at their playmates) and see how silly and pointless and blown-out-of-proportion those squabbles in the park had been.

And then, he suddenly became aware that he was being Watched too, from another vantage point. Being thought of exactly as he was thinking about the boys. He burst into a loud laughter, embarrassed. Then he looked at the softly-glowing sun in the sky briefly. Then he hung his head low, nodded a couple of times before turning around and shutting the balcony door behind him.

A pertinent observation on religion and language

She stood at the trap door examining if any mosquitoes wanted to get out of her bedroom. She was always very compassionate in that sense. Why kill them when you can simply remove them from your life? But there were no mosquitoes this night. No more, that is, after having crushed the only one in the room who had allegedly ruined her fickle sleep.

And while scanning the wire mesh sections of the trap door, she thought of how her students had tried to wish her a happy new year in French and Spanish. And how she had replied to them respectively. Particularly how she had replied in Spanish - "¡Buen año nuevo a tí y tu familia! Adios."

The word "adios" stuck out. An innocent word to say 'bye'. Always being interested in the etymology of a word, she guessed that adios was actually a+dios, which means "to God". And that's also what adieu meant. And what about "khuda hafiz" - May God keep you safe?

How smartly language had been customised to carry strong religious conditioning. One would have to say "bye" a million times through the day. Each time one would end up acknowledging God. That must be some trouble for atheists, no? How must they say bye? Perhaps terms like "Catch you later" and "Hasta la vista" were introduced by them to serve the purpose of closing a conversation.

Satisfied with her conclusion, she got on with her first day of the new year, telling her private thoughts, "Hasta la vista."

Her residential area and its woes

At 6:30 AM sharp, one could hear "Itni Shakti Hamein Dena Daata" wafting from the Tihar Jail across the street. Quite a nice prayer song to wake up to. How must the jail inmates feel about it though? They must care two hoots about such a song being their wake-up call on cold January mornings when all you want to do is pull the scraggly blanket a little tighter around you and snooze till eternity.

Of course, it is a different thing altogether when the song plays again twelve hours later, at 6:30 PM sharp. In the evening, it really does fill you with a sense of devotion, because you've worked hard all day and you hope all of that has been morally sound and will bear fruit.

Living right across the Tihar Jail has a disadvantage. There are network jammers installed in the vicinity, and making mobile phone calls is a pain. You have to get out into the balcony every single time, banging the trap door shut so that no mosquito escape into the bedroom. Then you have to brave the chilling breeze, ignore the stares of random construction workers and neighboorhood aunties and remind yourself to talk softly lest the residents upstairs eavesdrop on your conversation. Worse still, you might wake up their little baby.

Talking of phone calls, at least two have to be returned. Mother-in-law and father-in-law had called the previous night to wish her a happy new year. She hadn't been able to talk to them though as she was sadly finishing her footlong sans the sweet onion sauce.

Of jinxes and other concerns

Yeah, so the new year technically began with a marital squabble and insufficient sleep. The meteorological department had predicted a cold, foggy day, so an outing to the Lodhi gardens was out of question. With these many negative events happening even before sunrise, was her very first day of the year going to begin on a bitter note? Was it only going to spiral downwards?

Optimism didn't come naturally to her, but at no cost would she allow January 1 to be jinxed. No, she would take matters in her hands.

She would go out to the dining table and engage in the most joyful of activities - creating copper-wire jewelry. She would not only complete her clients' orders, she would treat herself to making a pair of grey earrings (her first ever grey ones!!!) for herself, and a couple of coral-chip earrings.

She told herself to not worry about the future of these earrings, not this day at least. After all, the pursuit of joy is why she even has her line of jewelry. And then way too many ideas have flashed in her mind, about 95% of them not even being converted to a physical manifestation because of her self-imposed practicality.

Yet another worry to ditch for the day would be that which comes with the guilt of having ignored one's domestic duties. Okay, out of compulsive urges, she'll still run one lot of laundry in her prized, fully-automatic Haier washing machine. And she won't even start her day without, what she calls, straightening up the house. But she'll certainly not ...... not....... not what? Not nothing. She'll ditch nothing that comes compulsively to her. Poor self-control has been her nemesis since as long as she remembers.

January 1, 2016....oops, 2017

Oh, great. The plan was to not wake up any time before 10 am because the new year was to begin with endless sleep. But she did wake up. At 4:57 AM. Despite having turned off all alarms and switching her smartphone to the flight mode the previous night.

It took a mosquito to start her new year like that. A mosquito fiercely biting a corner of her poor palm. The only mosquito in the bedroom which she eventually smashed to death after her second trip to the washroom.

Between her husband and her, they had some kind of lingo flowing. What is technically called urination was euphemistically termed "the small one" and defecation was nicknamed "the big one". So, while engaging in the big one on the pot, she reflected if the mosquito was the only reason she couldn't sleep long enough.

Maybe one had to account for the squabble she and her husband had had in bed just a quarter past midnight (both had had sleep-laden eyelids, they had been holding hands and cuddling through most part of the squabble). Such emotional turbulence always disturbed her sleep quality.

One should also acknowledge, though she would strictly not, that the sugar-loaded Giani's icecream in her favourite café mocha flavour should be given its due credit in messing up her sleep. After all, both sugar and coffee are known to hinder sleep quality.

But it is indecent to criticise the beloved icecream on her monthly cheat day. New Year's Eve and January 1 were together marked as a cheat day in her otherwise no-sugar culinary life.

Talking of cheat days, she had also ordered a footlong from Subway for dinner the previous night and chosen the "sweet onion sauce" from the customisation menu on Foodpanda. But guess what. They skipped the very sauce while assembling her footlong. Maybe it was the New Year's Eve rush. Anyway, she ate her footlong silently, acknowledging the concept of Murphy's law.