Say you have got time on your hands, what do you do? Do you go to the museum you have been meaning to properly visit for the past three years and take in Dali’s genius one more time? Or do you sling a couple of cameras over your shoulder and go shooting people shoveling ice cream down their throats, yellow leaves drifting here and there according to the whims of metallic monsters and woods echoing to the incoming silence of winter? Or do you sit, or rather lie down, on your ass and try to hear the subsonic swoosh that the slow passage of a day makes? I have become a master at attempting the last one.

There is so much to do but then again there is a certain beauty in doing nothing. Post-processing old photos, watching those favorite films yet again, checking mail and rss feeds a billion times per day, going over your (unchanging) site stats with a fine comb, reading e newspapers and missing lazy Sundays back home when everything smelt different. Back then, a Sunday had this special smell. The smell of laziness. The smell of newsprint and fresh coffee. The smell of delicious breakfast being prepared in the kitchen. Where have those times gone?

I know. I know what happened. I suddenly grew up and started living in a strange land where people drink coffee without milk and sugar and say hello/good day at the drop of a hat!

Mukesh croons in the background about this guy who is not a poet but still comes up with beautiful poetry once he sees this beautiful girl. Did I tell you I like old Hindi and Telugu songs? Well, now you know. Those songs still retain such simple beauty and meaning that I do not think any of the Rahman’s and Reshammiya’s of today can equal, perhaps ever.

It is weird to live in one’s head so much. You start building imaginary worlds in such intricate detail that there is a very real danger of losing touch with the real world around or finding it too boring to interact with. So I push myself to get out of my comfort zone and do things that my laziness would want me to pass on, like for example walking that extra bit to catch the tram one stop further than your usual one.

On such walks I pass these furniture shops, some of which entice me with their minimalist kitchens and retro-nostalgic living rooms. There is one particular establishment with this ultra minimalist kitchen, all sleek black and white cabinets, nice clean open spaces and sexy chrome fittings that invariably catches my eye. And I make a mental note always to come back and take a photo. Because if I ever build a house this is how I’d design my kitchen.

I close these lines with a certain grand old lady singing in the background one of my all time favorite Hindi songs filmed on a lonely woman sitting on desert sand. A woman who ages but gracefully and in the process seems to become more and more beautiful if that was possible. How do you do it Dimple?