There is something about Jumi's house in Belapur. It makes me itch to write. I have all the signs of a bestselling writer. I know it is annoying, but I am genetically conditioned to brag. I realize it, and ask for forgiveness. But please bear with my genes. I had no hand in making them. They are completely the Lord's architecture. *impish smiley*
The reason I make this self analysed claim is because of the quirkiness in the timing of my creative outputs. For example, my creative juices wanting to flow particularly when I'm in Jumi's house. That is quirkiness, isn't it? All great writers have had quirks in them. some could write only in restaurants, some had to put their feet into shoes nailed into a wall for their pens to move, and so on and so forth.
Anup dropped in yesterday. He was here to attend a workshop. He has an endearing sense of humour and is wonderful company. I had texted my address to him and he surprised me by calling me from the gate of Jumi's apartment complex. I admired his sense of direction, having come here without as much as single phone call asking for directions. I came to understand that he owed his expert skill to his friend Sridhar who had accompanied him, when I went to the lobby to receive them. Both of them are histopathologists and alumni of the same institute. Sridhar is a local and works in the hospital where Anup's workshop was held. Their short visit was sweet and left us in smiles.
Latika came later the same day. With her family of four. A beautiful tall charming daughter, an imp of a son who one falls in love with and a wonderful spouse who makes everyone comfortable and at ease in an instant. Latika is a homemaker. She looks the same age as her 9th grade daughter. She drives an SUV and maintains an immaculate house. No dust or clutter anywhere. Appeals to the ISO assessor in me. She is helpful, charming and confident. She amazes me and I think of her with wonder. I wish I was like her. These are people who make their friends feel safe. They are folks who will hold your hands when you need a hand. I am friends with Latika because of Gargi. And Gargi is an NRI. When one door closes, another opens. Such is the way destiny is written.
I write about Latika now because Latika is from Mumbai and I am in Mumbai now. Several others have made me feel secure in my year of personal strife. Doors have been shut by people who were automatically assumed would be the support system because of the several years shared with them, and large welcoming gates thrown open into palatial hearts from those least expected to do so. The Lord has a way of clearing the path whether or not one asks for it. Planning too much ahead is clearly not the way the Maker wants us to live. "There is no path to happiness, Happiness is the way," Lord Buddha stated. I guess all we have to do is be happy in the moment, and the rest is automatically taken care of.
A certain astrologer told me recently that I have a terrific sense of humour. He definitely is a very good astrologer. Recognizing my skills so accurately. *naughty smiley*. Signing off today with this one more genetically programmed brag. Oh, and one more thing. If anyone wants to give me a gift and was wondering what to give, I could use an Apple airbook (laptop). Thank you very much.
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