Twenty minutes of daylight
Nov. 29th, 2002 05:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenI was in a good mood on the way home this evening. I talked my way out of PE, it's the Friday before a long weekend, and I'mn actually going out tomorrow. On the journey home, there was a crash on the bypass and the lights weren't on on the bus for some reason - looking out the windows, I could see descended fog on the fields, which had the effect of draining all colour from the trees in the distance, so they became silhouettes against the sky. Because of the crash, the bus was late and I lost the last twenty minutes of daylight, and I walked home in a surreal dreamscape. I was listening to music, as I invariably am (the Formal Weather Pattern) and the world always becomes two-dimensional when I walk home, because it's defined by light and shadow and colour only; no sound. It was nearly dark, and the cars' headlights were so dazzling I was blinded every so often.
But I was in a good mood; that's the point of everything I've said so far. Pedar picked me up on the way - we discussed the three Fates conpsiring, because he was late too, and we met.
And then we reached home, and I pressed "Play" on the answering machine. There was a half garbled, confusing Hindi message on it, and it sounded like it was from a long way away. Pedar grabbed the phone.
His Chachaji, or else his paternal uncle and my great uncle (whom I have never met, I think) died this morning, suddenly.
I don't feel affected by it; I never knew him, like so many of my extended family. But Pedar obviously did. It seems like there is an old rakshahsha against this family. A year ago, I had three grandparents; now, I have one. And I know it's odd to feel sad about the death of someone I have never met, but I wish things like this never happened.
I never knew my mother took her camera with her to India. The photos came back today. Most of them are commonplace family snaps, but there's one of my mother and her mother (Didu) taken just after my mother arrived in India. I forget sometimes how pretty my mother is. She never believes me when I say it, but she is. And Didu was pretty too, once - her hair was her crowning glory, and even when she'd grown old, it was still long and thick and jet-black without a strand of grey. In the photo she's laughing, and so is my mother, and they just seem so happy...
But I was in a good mood; that's the point of everything I've said so far. Pedar picked me up on the way - we discussed the three Fates conpsiring, because he was late too, and we met.
And then we reached home, and I pressed "Play" on the answering machine. There was a half garbled, confusing Hindi message on it, and it sounded like it was from a long way away. Pedar grabbed the phone.
His Chachaji, or else his paternal uncle and my great uncle (whom I have never met, I think) died this morning, suddenly.
I don't feel affected by it; I never knew him, like so many of my extended family. But Pedar obviously did. It seems like there is an old rakshahsha against this family. A year ago, I had three grandparents; now, I have one. And I know it's odd to feel sad about the death of someone I have never met, but I wish things like this never happened.
I never knew my mother took her camera with her to India. The photos came back today. Most of them are commonplace family snaps, but there's one of my mother and her mother (Didu) taken just after my mother arrived in India. I forget sometimes how pretty my mother is. She never believes me when I say it, but she is. And Didu was pretty too, once - her hair was her crowning glory, and even when she'd grown old, it was still long and thick and jet-black without a strand of grey. In the photo she's laughing, and so is my mother, and they just seem so happy...
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no subject
on 2002-12-02 05:58 pm (UTC)I've seen the term before, but I don't recall its meaning or significance. Could you explain?
Re:
on 2002-12-03 09:08 am (UTC)