Late one evening, I set out in search of fresh air and freedom when the last hue of daylight was turning into a very deep dark blue. This new city I must now make mine offered a variety of sights and sounds. Much too lively compared to what I am used to on a Sunday evening.
Looking to remain an innocent bystander (or walker) I was broken out of my reverie when a couple in their thirties approached me to ask a question. I remove my earphones, and they ask "Do you know where ***** is?" I must have appeared confused, as the woman found it necessary to explain further "It's a nightclub". "No idea at all, sorry" I reply and carry on.
What was stranger than the fact that they thought a bespectacled young woman wearing way too many clothes in comparison with the norm of the evening, listening to music and carrying a large non stylish bag would know where a nightclub is located, was the realisation that two outsiders were asking me where anything was in this town.
The usual throngs of minimally clothed women braving the cold for the sake of a few appreciative (also read "leering") glances (or free drinks) were to be seen everywhere. One in particular drew some wolf whistles. Viewed from behind, she appeared to be wearing nothing but a skirt. It was actually a dress crafted so imaginatively as if someone had stitched it together using her contours as guidelines. I was walking close to her and instinctively stepped aside, as if distancing myself further from that openly masculine appreciation of her physical form, thinking it best to let praise directed towards her be unblemished by my comparatively non-sexy appearance.
Kishore Kumar sings into my ears...
Kisi pe husn ka ghuroor jawani ka nasha...
A couple share an embrace and a kiss at a tram station. A young man playfully picks his girlfriend in his arms and threatens to throw her into a pool of water. She squeals with delight disguised as protest.
Kisi ke dil pe mohabbat ki rawani ka nasha...
As I walk on past a man struggling to walk straight, I run into a group of girls. One of them, obviously very drunk, shouts to me in a voice made shriller by alcohol "Hi-yaaa". I give her a wry alright-then-you-got-that-out-of-your-system smile and carry on.
Kahin suroor hai khushiyon ka, kahin gham ka nasha...
Even as my mind is bemused and filled with all this drunken revelry, there are more sober encounters ahead of me.
Like families and couples having intimate meals at quiet restaurants.
I enter a store and catch sight of a young south Asian man. Boy, rather, who looks perplexed as he contemplates two different types of ready made salads and eventually chooses one (appearing to do so more out of a realisation that he must hurry up, than a preference for it). I feel a strange sadness as I see him, cannot understand it and admonish myself for feeling that way.
An elderly couple hold hands as they cross a traffic light. They stick out like sore thumbs amidst all the youthful intoxicated laughter and chatter. I see a young woman carrying a suitcase, probably returning from the train station and find in her the closest resemblance to myself. She too has a determined stride, wears glasses and is covered from head to toe.
I want to keep walking, taking in all this diversity of experience and life. At the thought of being alone in this crowd I smile and feel an elated calmness.
I nod my head as if agreeing with Kishore Kumar.
Nashe mein kaun nahi hai, mujhe batao zara?
Nasha hai sab pe, magar rang nashe ka hai judaa.
