The Butterfly Effect

The awning - that is where her scattered thoughts are fading off to. May not be the awning exactly. It has been up there on her window since she lived there. It is the July rain, I think. She has a thing with rain, sort of a pact. When it rains, the woman in her speaks out. Not always in words, but more often in the tunes of guitar or candle light make ups. The pluviophile girl sets up to contemplate from life as biology to life as politics. When it drizzles, she turns into a girl  dressed in sunset yellow fit and flare dress with a transparent umbrella stretching out her hand carefully as not to wet herself more than just the palms. Hmm, it is clearly not the rain. 

She turned off her laptop, switched off the tube-light, switched on the blue bed light and laid on the bed staring at the boring ceiling. Her empty mind was rattling like the Mumbai local. Thousands of thoughts are honking loud, making peace a difficult target. What is peace anyway? Is the urban life agitation and rural life peaceful? Don't babies cry there too? The last local blows the trumpet and the silence is broken for seconds. She realizes she rather be unsettled in the dusty air of her city, than be in the safety net of any semi-urban reality. It is almost midnight. The air outside is damped with drizzle and far away music of a midnight gathering. For a second, her heartbeat is all she could hear; he hasn't spoken to her since ages (or that's how it felt). Amidst the blurry silence and musical awning, she realized that the thrumming raindrops on the awning is what distracting her from the otherwise 'butterfly effect' thoughts drumming in her mind. The brain is supposed to control the body, right? May be human mind is actually an Indian wife; stays behind the door, but handles the husband to the world outside the doorstep. 

She is watching Sex and The City series. Every time she watched it, she wondered when is the Carrie in her rising up from the ashes of an ambitious, untagged, dreamy woman. She recalled that a mug of coffee is all that she can afford now to warm herself up to pen down some of the noise honking in her head. "What is it", she asked herself irritatingly. At times, it becomes so mysterious that she lets herself be drowned, with a hope that when she will hit the rock bottom, she will kick herself afloat. What really could be her bedrock is unknown. How does one prepare for the unknown?

Not knowing swimming is a big disadvantage. Let me add that to my to-learn list. The real question is, will I be conscious enough to swim out when kicked into the water? May be I should just learn if for the sake of summer cooling down. Swimming pools...hmm: gym trimmed body, salon polished hair, flawless cranberry lipstick make up, red bikini; enjoying the cool breeze and the warmth of the sun under the colourful pool umbrella; stealing as many stealthy looks, turning as many heads- but secretly expecting her man to be proud that he is the chosen one. 

Oops! Her thoughts wandered off again. Is she PMSing? 

The coffee is slowly kicking in. The rain has stopped, or the wall clock has become louder. She looked out towards the opened door. Across the hall, is the locked room of that squeaky, funny, bright eyed flatmate of hers. "...Our house", she mentioned today. She loves unsweetened black coffee too. She has seen her being super active over morning coffee, and droopy over late night coffee. How is it to be an Inception of a child and an adult? Probably it is more maddening. But equally dark. Dark is good. You see, white can be stained. Dark is either stained too much, or is just a beautiful canvas for any other colour. They talk of fears and annoyance they dare not tell their bffs. Irony! To think of it, iron is strong, and -y is the why part. It fits.

Her phone beeped. It was just a random notification from the ongoing sale. Should I buy that dress now or wait for the salary? The mind floats free; the fingers get back to the usual exercise of scrolling aimlessly through social media. 

She chuckles.