Joy

I sat in the sun today, after dreary weeks of blinding fog. It was behind the haze that forever shields the skies over this city of 12 million, but it was bright and warm and happy, and I basked in its bridled brilliance.

My feet rested on the balustrade surrounding my balcony, my seat was an old cane stool, and the Killers were singing into my ears. Blonde beer in my left hand, and the incredibly dense Gore Vidal in my right. It was beautiful, and I baked to a cheery apple red. I went in to find the glorious shades I had bought on my last spur-of-the-moment shopping spree with Prarthana, almost 2 years ago, and raided my roommate's closet for sunscreen.

Sunscreen and shades in Delhi in January. In spite of the stickiness of the year old paste and the flatness of my hour old beer, I felt great. Happy, confident independence oozing out of every pore. I'm broke and unsatisfied with my job, but I have my books and my beer and my weekends.