Monsoon Wetting, (or, The Belated Boris Post)

Yesterday morning, on the last day of my course, I woke up to the sound of pouring rain. I looked outside and it was coming down crazy--you pick the metaphor. Cats and dogs, buckets, et cetera. One side of the street was consumed by a puddle so big it was actually a pond. Kabali (this reminds me, I've never written about the driver Rebecca and Anna so generously shared with me after Vijay and I broke up...long story, but Kabali--who, up until yesterday, we'd been calling, erroneously, Kapali--rocks) was nowhere to be found, so Rebecca and I got into a rickshaw with the scary driver who is always outside the Hotel California. It was a wild ride. We'd start to turn down a street and the entire road would be a lake and there's no way three wheels would make it through, so we'd try another and somehow we made it to the Mandiram, reasonably dry and somewhat intact. After the rain stopped, Chennai, for once, felt almost cool.

Later that day, I was kicking it at the local Iway, where the Bravermundo magic happens, and I started this whole Boris post, since yesterday was his birthday. I kept trying to write something and then it sounded codependent, or treacly, and I felt like I wasn't doing him justice. So I saved it as a draft and went back for the afternoon classes in a crummy mood. Mr. METY sat next to me during yoga therapy and when he raised his hand, I told him he had maxed out his question-asking and if he had something to contribute, he could tell me, and I'd tell the group. Of course, he seemed to enjoy it when I laid down the law. Which is just like him.

People dressed up for our closing ceremony, and Desikachar came, and there were lots of blessings and clapping and hugging and photo-taking and when everyone made plans to meet up for dinner afterwards, I just didn't feel like going. I was exhausted by group mode (aren't we all, after spending ten-hour days with the same people for four weeks?) and I knew I needed to call Boris, and I was just sad.

We spoke for a little bit last night, and right after I hung up the phone I realized I'd meant to say a bunch of stuff. Like that this fall marks our tenth year of friendship!

Rebecca and I had a quiet dinner at the weird cafe, and I realized it's not that I didn't want to go out with the others, it's that I knew I'd rather be at the Royal Castle, arranging Boris' stinky cheese on plates, slicing one of the amazing cakes Shauna surely baked, catching his eye from across the room and mouthing "See, everyone's having fun" after he would've, earlier, freaked out about all the party mishaps he'd imagined ensuing. And despite my best efforts to chin up, I couldn't get out of The Great New York Debate as I tried to fall asleep last night. I'd imagine an affordable house in a college town and then flash to sitting in one of the Second Avenue parks with the newspaper and an iced latte from 71. I listened to music, but the entire Whiskeytown oeuvre tends to make things worse, not better.

Basically, Boris, I'm reminiscing this right now.