It is that time of the year again.
When I am a little more impatient than usual. The happy kind of impatient.
When I don’t mind getting a little late, or lagging behind deadlines.
I don’t even swear when I hit my toe against cursed corners, or when I have trimmed only half my beard and forgot to complete the rest.
For a chronic insomniac, I surprisingly get very good sleep. Why? Because there are things I have to dream of.
There is always a song on my lips and I can be found humming away, musing apparently at nothing and nobody.
Yes ! It is October again. The best one of all twelve. You can call me biased and I totally am.
And why should I not be for a month that makes life feel so beautiful?
The mornings are more gorgeous than the months gone by, when it has been either hot or raining.
But not October. The nip in the early morning air has slowly started to set in, and the sun is a little lazy to come up, making it inviting to my early bird soul.
A morning walk becomes necessary to gulp in the bliss of the dawn. The early air is more benevolent than usual.
The crimson in the morning sky is at its sharpest, reminiscent of all beautiful Octobers gone by.
The days are brighter and the sky is stark blue. The sun is warm and caring like a father and there are a few clouds here and there.
October sky is a poem waiting for music to be sung into a song.
The evenings are the best. Intoxicating, actually. The only thing I ever get high on.
The sky is darker than usual, and the wind carries more than just air.
If you listen, they carry whispers, too.
The tree saptaparni charges the air with its devilish smell. The fragrance is all over the places I have been to.
And the evening breeze has all the goodness of a mix of a well-made wine.
In short, October for me, isn’t just any other month. The year has been sad and demanding but October arrives with a taste of Felix Felicis.
And boy do I feel lucky!
You see. I was born in March. But I grew up in October.
My heart is out and about, noticing every little red in this world of forever grey. This is one month when the color red means joy.
Red. Of course red. The sigh of all things “shubh” and precious. Be it Durga maa’s saree or rangoli of Diwali… red rules them all.
There is one more thing the color red rules. My silly little heart.
Also maybe a little bit of green. Yes. A flash of green maybe, perhaps a good old vespa, shuddering away.
They are rare these days. But they mean something more to my humble self.
Every dash of that green make me blush.
I rarely blush.
But when I do, you can be sure it is October!
Well, here we are.
After all these goddamned years.
And I am still talking about it.
And I should be.