Sparkle means you have found what makes you tick and it is usually something that is immensly easy to share. It costs nothing and there is no debt.
After a long hard year, the holiday season is approaching and I am far from the two traditions of yule and chanuka that I know so well. And I am not tinsel, or sparkle averse.
The past week I have resolved to immerse myself fully in my lonely existence, quit bitching and start enjoying.
Winter sun and a beautifully hand crafted netted, shielded sun trap terrace has been my drama fast hideout. Sunbathing and warming my cold frosty heart. I feel better already and see that little glimmer of bronze glow and can feel myself remembering my pre purdah days.
It was not an easy afternoon, but I must be getting stronger as I did not cry, run to the homeopath for instant counselling, nor scream at anyone or anything but came home and got my glamerous self calm and ready for my English class.
He asked me to come to the Studio and share lunch together. He asked for the onions to be browned on the cinammon infused biryiani.
I put that regal blue shirt on that I wore when we first met. He loved the drama and understated way I wore it. I washed and blow dried my hair,.and did my make up with a little damn it is nearly xmas party twist and yes I looked good if I say so myself.
I really did this. I ran out the house like a loved woman. I actually was carrying a tiffin tin of steaming hot biryiani to meet my beautiful man and for him to proudly show off.
The end of the year finale! That we were still the loved up can’t be apart couple.
I tried to call from the auto rickshaw so that he could arrange to pay the driver but his cell was not picking up. Arriving at the studio I felt still like his Rani and then one by one the factory workers in their vests came to the verandah to laugh and say Ha Ha Anil ji went out to get food.
Surely this is not happening? Sheesh I have to be really clear and firm that I need 100 rupees to pay the driver. By now there are seven or eight laughing, taunting men looking down from the first and second floor.
An elderly Sadhu appeared and was curious what was in my hands but he could be tempted as my bootie was non-veg. The lunch was fed to the local stray dogs, and I simply returned home and washed the dishes.
I think he has ADHD. He does not see that anything untoward has happened. It does not strike him as strange that he felt like going out to do some vegetable shopping. It is somehow my fault for turning up at the wrong time.
His phone does work. But he turns the volume down or does not take it with him.
Sparkle comes. Sparkle goes. Hard to keep playing love and light right now.