Chasing Down The Day Dream

Sunday afternoons go haywire

How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become?

~Doc Luben, 14 lines from love letters or suicide notes

In another world, a white girl with blonde hair wouldn't be given a second glance but in India, white skin is your sure shot way of inviting unwanted attention.

(so is having genotype 46XX but more on that later)

Neha has always wanted to punch someone in the face. She has taken the required classes for it, which means she is more than qualified to give a black eye to the man standing in the queue next to her.

Natalie is happily oblivious to the entire stare fest. She is searching her purse for her ID while Neha is two seconds away from using her best upper cut till date. She feels protective for Nat, because she's the kind of naïve who wouldn't guess a knife until it was put to her neck.

The man momentarily gets distracted from staring at Natalie when he spots Neha giving him her killer death glare (pun intended). She takes the opportunity to show him the middle finger while he coughs and looks away abashedly. Neha smiles at the woman behind her who probably thought it was unbecoming of a lady.

Her fellow country men and women have started to disappoint her.

Well at least we have the workshop to look forward to.

The response to the invitation had been overwhelming and Natalie hasn't been able to sleep from the excitement. She rubs her eyes as she regrets not listening to Neha the night before. She risks a peek at her companion and sure enough, she has an I-told-you-so written across her face.

"Well for your own sake, I won't say it. Now let's get you an espresso before you collapse in the lobby," Neha says as she locks her arm with Natalie's.

Natalie is grateful for her companion's lack of antiques this morning. Neha can be surprisingly productive when she isn't wasting her energy on inappropriately timed puns.

Yet, she wouldn't have it any other way, Nat thinks. Neha adds light hearted moments to her chaotic life and calms her down with her incredible cup of tea. She thinks of how effortlessly charming she is. She reminds Nat of her father- all bright smiles and bad puns tucked up his sleeve.

Suddenly, Nat doesn't miss New York anymore.

She enters the hall where the workshop is to be carried out. It is roomy with chairs arranged in rows. She starts rearranging the chairs in a circle.

Neha sets to work outside the hall, setting up the poster and registrations desk. Once she's done, she walks inside to find a huffing Natalie lifting a chair from the corner of the room.

"Last time I checked, this room was pretty well arranged," Neha muses.

"I didn't like the previous arrangement," Nat says in between breaths, "they're not here for a lecture, they're here for poetry and you don't learn poetry, you experience it. You dip your foot in it and let it slowly drown you. It's an experience you share when you connect to people. And you can't do that unless you face each other," She says as she places a chair near the wall.

She sits on one of the chairs and continues, "So I want them all to sit in a circle and just let go of their inhibitions and just, talk. Poetry, will find its way eventually."

"That went over my head but okay," Neha says as she sets to work beside Natalie.

Nat shakes her head and smiles.

They finish up all the arrangements and check the clock.

"2 hours to showdown. You ready?" Neha pokes Nat from beside her.