grand standing

i have a slight problem. a kind of disease. more like an average-phobia. i expect a certain grandness, a whimsy romance to permeate my life. and you know what, most times it does. though not all the time. now even i’d be hard pressed to find some splendour in the dampness that is spreading through the walls of my spanking new house. but you know what i mean.

now this comes with its own set of issues. how could i even begin to explain to anyone that i’m standing in the rain because it warm and wet at the same time. because despite hemingway, the rain conjures up images of water slicked bodies coming together rather than death and decay. because it is at times full of passion and fury and other times soft (and definitely not as creepy) as cobwebs.

thing is, when you go looking for grandness and romance, you find other things too. wary side steps sometimes, and complete bafflement at others. and sometimes you find nothing. zilch. kuch bhi nahi. thenga.

this whole finding nothing is when your faith will waver and you’ll tell yourself that you’d rather have some good random sex than wait for imaginary men to climb your bloody balcony in your fanciful quest of romance and grandness. this is the time when you’re going to have to be strong. you’re going to have to daate raho. to believe that even when you’re not getting any action you’re not a complete loser. (note: this is not a sour grapes thing. it could be, but it's not)

because in between searching and not finding and finding and not searching, your life will be fraught with excitement. how could it not be? how could it not break your heart to watch a beautiful stranger leave the room? how could cream bell’s strawberry stick, with grainy bits of seed not make you want get down on your knees and thank the good lord? how could a cup of coffee mean so much if you didn’t drive 300 kilometers to get it? how could you not have a pretty wonderful conversation that stretches for half an hour without knowing who's on the other side? how could you ever find yourself in the wrong place with the right guy or right place with the wrong guy? how could you ever invite trouble and then court it with pleasure? how could you not take someones hand and dance in front of strange beautiful houses?
and how could your heart withstand it all, if it wasn't battered, bruised, trampled upon, broken, fixed, refixed, bursting, thumping, beating, doing cartwheels and set free a thousand times over?