Seasons of Providence

Fall; October, 2001; Ranchi:

I was returning from my physics tuition class when my "Lady Bird" got a punctured tyre.

The wind was strong, and the evening, dressed in colours of the earth: ochre, brown, yellow; golds and pastels. A bicycle is good company for a stroll on a lovely autumn evening. The trees are mighty and benevolent - they strip themselves off, to carpet the road below with their withered foliage - which crackled underneath my feet, welcoming, as I walked. Dry leaves caught in a wind eddy, danced in circular jubilation before me.

I tried to look ahead, sheltering my eyes with one hand, to see if I could find someone who could direct me to a cycle repair shop. When you're 16, help comes easy. Through the flurry of dust and leaves, I saw the silhouette of a boy approaching. A beautiful boy with a grand smile and mischievous eyes.

He decided to walk me to the shop. We found things to talk about - school, tuition, common friends. My cycle was repaired. I could ride it back home. But we walked instead. Back in the days no one exchanged numbers in small towns. We knew that we'd run into each other again and we did. Let's say, quite often indeed.

I did not know what love at first sight meant, before that evening of fall. And I will not qualify the last statement with anything cynical about growing up and knowing better.

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Winters; November, 2008; Delhi

My first Delhi winter was about to make its way into my life in all its fury. I intended to make good use of the last few days on which I could still flaunt some skin, and wore the little black dress. I hopped into a car with some strange beautiful ladies among whom I had a friend from my dance class, who had invited me over for a night of letting my hair down.

23 is an odd age - lacking in character, lacking in anything which can be considered a significant milestone during a girl's passage to womanhood. I had been in love, been heartbroken and gotten over it, several times already. A harsh winter in a new city can be a lonely time. I wanted someone to keep me warm.

As I stepped out of the car, I realized what a mistake it had been to underestimate the might of a parky November night in Delhi. Men joined us, and one of them noticing my discomfort, offered me his coat. Several vodka shots and car hops later, we landed at a bachelors apartment for some after party.

I hadn't spoken much to the man in question, since I had my eye set on another pretty boy in the group, who disappeared later. I took to a corner in the lobby to get a couple of hours of sleep before sunrise, when I could make my way home. As the effect of the alcohol in my blood wore away, the tip of my nose froze; my toes curled inside the carpet; I drew a cushion close to my chest for warmth and my breath spawned mist before my eyes.

And there he was again - anticipating my needs - offering me a large sweatshirt, a warm quilt and a hot coffee, along with a delightful conversation which continued till day light.

I spent the next year and a half in his T-shirts and sweatshirts.

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Spring; January, 2004; Chennai

This is cheating, you'd say - January isn't spring! But it is the closest you can get to "feeling" spring in hot, hot Madras.

I had left Hyderabad to attend the grand "IIT Saarang" with a huge backpack containing my prettiest dresses and loveliest shoes. (What can I say, I have a thing for nerds.) I eventually reached there only with my handbag, that had only my wallet and my toothbrush. What transpired in between is a story for another time.

I didn't have much hope for finding romance in the next three days, considering I had to manage in a couple of cheap T-Shirts and pajamas that I had picked up from a street-side shop, with whatever little money I had, before making my way to the IIT campus. Strangely, even after literally having lost so much, my spirit was intact. Must be the spring in my veins.

At one corner there were a hundred talented young men and women painting each other's faces - metamorphosing what was human into a motley of characters out of fantasy; at another, vast expanses of the floor lay covered in kaleidoscopic illustrations of Rangoli; further ahead, in the midst of a congregation, a bunch of vivid performers proclaimed social slogans and implored upon people to participate.

As I walked further ahead a bevy of deers bounced past the road, into a meadow of tall-grass, causing its culms to spray white tufts of tiny flowers into the settled air and then quickly disappeared into a thicket.

Spring is so much more of a state of mind, than a season.

I walked far and long - in my dirty jeans - nonchalant towards my disheveled appearance, content with the anonymity, till I reached an auditorium which announced a "Salsa Workshop".

"Hi, I'd like to register."
"Do you have a partner?"
"Umm, nope. Don't know anyone here."
"Dance with me?"

Well, what can I say, I guess nerds have a thing for me too.

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Summer; June 2011; Delhi

At almost 26, you'd think I know something about romance and love and butterflies in the stomach. But I am clueless, still. Not having dated for a whole year, is, going by past experience, quite odd for a girl like me. The seasons have passed me by, markedly lacking in happenstance.

However, I am a summer girl. I like trotting about in skimpy shorts and tank tops. I like crunching up my short hair before I make eye contact with the cute guy at the bar while sipping on a frozen margarita. When it is bright and shiny, I like to be a darling and a flirt. When it is bright and shiny, I am hopeful of providence once again.

By the way, the other day I ran into a very cute guy at the bar. He got my number. We have a date. You never know. ;)