I loved Rajesh Khanna. I have not had the time to grieve for him, but he meant a lot to me. He was this inexplicably intimate link to the past, this beautiful face, and this heavenly voice that I could never have enough of. I have never followed cinema ardently, but every movie of his that I happened to watch on TV made a certain impression on me. I have loved him forever, from the age of black and white TVs and Doordarshan night movies that people waited for. He was this white , pure, shiny thing that I have never coveted, I have never wanted to have him, or to have a man like him, he was an object of reverence and divinity. Something sacred. Something beautiful. Something to be sighed about from a distance. But may be it was the philosophy of his movies that he so convincingly portrayed, or may be his smile, his tilt of the head, his voice, there was something about him that made him part of me. He denoted cinema for me. Technicolor cinema of large duplex houses and empty streets and white saree clad mothers and helpless unmarried sisters. He denoted that socialism-influenced, high-on-emotion cinema that always, invariably, explored newer meanings, raised newer questions, and made you laugh and cry at the same time. It doesn't make sense to say this, but I'll miss him.
I painted my toenails red, took a long aimless walk in the evening, and I feel collected. If and when I move out of Bangalore, I'll miss her evening weather. Bangalore is like a graceful motherly lady, the kind you can rely on. You can count on breezy evenings, and cool days after a dry and hot spell. Sometimes, I miss the moodiness of Manipal's weather. It's a place where you simply mustn't step out without an umbrella. I remember occasions when I would be sipping coffee at a shop and then it would suddenly start to pour. Rains never interrupted life there. Nothing interrupted Manipal. Nothing could contain the brimming life of thousands of young people in a small town, arriving and leaving in batches with ranks and branches, talking of GPAs and assignmesnts and internals, who would walk endlessly up and down those winding roads, only to be replaced by newer faces, newer dreams, newer friendships, crushes, heartbreaks. I miss Manipal. Sometimes.
I spoke to two of my friends for hours yesterday. They don't know each other, but the similarity of their circumstances struck me. I ended up giving out similar advices, speaking out about the same fears that I have. I wish I had met one, at least one guy in my life who understood me as completely as any of my girls. Sigh.
I will go to bed now. And hopefully wake up to a beautiful day. I need to take care of myself.
