Frankfurt diaries

I am alone in the room. By chance. And it makes me happy no end.

I like the sounds my fingers on the keyboard make. Serious typing. Or random drumming when I am thinking. These sounds that I don’t share with anyone…

I like getting out and fixing myself a warm tea. Opening a bag of Tetley brought from India. The warm smell that wafts out of the mug when I dip my teabag. The swirling milky drops that change colour especially when I stir furiously. And the taste of home.

I like standing by my window. Hail in Frankfurt is as pretty as it can get, but only when you are inside. I sometimes open my window and throw my hands out. To catch the falling flakes. They are an illusion that disappear in your warm crisscrossed brown palm.

I like pulling my scarf into various knots around my neck. I like the way it flaps in the wind. I wonder if I will run behind it if it flies off. Knowing me, I would just let it go. I am tired of trying to catch things that run away.

I like standing near the crackling heater in the hall. The strong heat of which reminds me of the summers in Chennai.

I like watching my mobile. Willing it to ring. Most often just the time digits in the display change.

I am the lost jigsaw puzzle of a single piece set.