I’ve finally moved into my new apartment.
I’d rather prefer to say I’ve moved to my ’swank’ new apartment, but it isn’t as ’swank’ as it is warm, cosy and inviting. There’s lots of wood and warm tones, to make anyone feel at home.
My predessesor was none other than cricketer Vinod Kambli, who sobbed post a match that went awry because of the rain and was dropped from the Indian team, subsequently.
My landlord is full of stories about VK, who is now married to his second Catholic wife Andrea and lives somewhere hear Mehboob studio in Bandra. He would start the day with a swig. Besides, this when he first took up the lease he would order five bottles of mineral water everyday from the store down the lane, until the landlord suggested the concept of aquaguard. Common sense dawned and the little store down the lane lost some brisk business.
His vanity case lies outside in the veranda, with his name inscribed on the cover, as does the remnants of his double-bed.
I’ve had many, many, many roommates ever since I left home in 1992. Some moody, some sly, some plain obnoxious. My current roommates — Tanvi and Vinky, seem by far the most humane, funny, spontaneous, yet.
Yesterday, we cooked our virgin meal in the new place. Midway the puree ran out, and we had to quickly whip up some more. With a little damage control, we salvaged the meal and had a sumptous spread of khichi-turned-pulao and potato-capsicum bharta-turned-gravy dish, along with roties and sabji, sent over by the current landlady. Post dinner, we had some caramel pudding, made by me.
This is bliss. No ranting from the landlady. No curfews on television viewing. Just peace, intellectual stimuli, humour (lots of it), space, music and compassion.
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written with alot of passion