BlogMas 2016 Day Fourteen - Grant and Granted

Hello. It's Day Fourteen.

Winter mornings in Delhi are wonderful. Driving in Delhi during winter mornings are the best. The sky is indigo, and the gloom is so evident, you can smell an evening dusk during dawn. There's a musk in the air that lingers a bit longer even after the sun is trying to do its job to amputate the fog bit by bit. I love driving. I've driven to my college everyday, for four short years, much prior to college as well, since I got my license. Driving to college and my coffee tumbler were the most obvious things to be noticed about me during winters. And it's funny how when you're deposed of your everyday customs do you feel the void of it when it's suddenly absent. If six months ago, someone asked me if I would think about my car and coffee tumbler coming winter, I would have probably looked at them as if they'd announced dancing naked on a Broadway. Granted, is a very heavy attitude to take, and a dangerous adjective to allot. I had a different notebook with kraft pages in which I doodled and wrote poems. Oddly enough, I didn't realise until recently that I would never use the notebook until it was winters, and wrote and doodled with only people in mind. And I would seldom take it out. I've had it for more than two years and it's barely filled. I don't remember while packing up what I was thinking, leaving certain notebooks behind, but that particular one is also at home. Maybe, I knew that I'll need it only in winters, or maybe thinking I'm not going to have winters this year. It's amazing how every nerve in your body is in tune with your mind, that every nerve of mine knew not to pack that notebook. And it wasn't until today that I felt the need to doodle and physically write, and I remembered the damn tan kraft papers in a beige canvas cover. 

Sometimes, you need take things at face value and sometimes not. There are certain fixations everyone has, a good lion's share of which we don't realise. What I'm saying is, even the junk in your back drawer, you've stopped using, take it along with you if you're moving to another city. You're used to seeing that junk everyday, all the time when you open your drawer, which might seem empty without it lest you leave it behind.

Until then.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

Ak.