That weekend marked many firsts for us. The first time I travelled in a long distance train by myself, the first time I visited her at her place, the first time she spent the New Year at home after boarding school happened and so on.
She was in India for two weeks and the kite-flying weekend in Baroda made for a perfect weekend reunion. We were at a different place in our lives when we had last met; both lulled by the comfort of academia. Now we were adults (or so we’d like our folks to believe) getting used to the lives we had picked for ourselves.
We didn’t rant as much as I thought we might. It was a relatively quiet time. We were just soaking up each other’s presence. We probably went shopping together for the first time as well. We discussed clothes, again something that we’ve never done before.
Neither of us is big on gifting. But she started something of a tradition I hope we continue with. Every time we meet, we exchange/lend/borrow a book. I’d to like to believe that somewhere I am sharing a part of my life with her even when we aren’t together. It began with Kite Runner and The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I kept it alive with Between the Assassinations.
The sky in Baroda was magnificent. Balls of fire and strips color rose up to paint the sky while we caught up with each others’ lives over bhakar wadis.
Someday I want to move to Baroda, for more reasons than one.