Somewhere in the middle of September, I realised I’d made a mistake that wasn’t the same as the many mistakes I rack up on the daily; like forgetting to empty the washing machine up until twelve hours later, or eating oats for my all meals when I leave grocery shopping too late on a Sunday, or leaving my charger at home, and walking half hour to the library to work with a dead laptop. I was feeling like a fool instead of a phool, which is how I normally identify. Most likely bougainvillea, which I can never spell in the first go, and definitely of the bright pink variety.
Since I was feeling very low, I bought myself a bubble-wand from Sainsbury’s discounted for 75p. I blew bubbles in the balcony in the mornings. I can’t explain why, but they cheered me. I did have to time these therapeutic sessions, because there’s a school right across my balcony, and I didn’t particularly fancy kids seeing me in a state of frenzied launching of air filled soap spheres as a way to fire my dopamine, or whichever one of those chemicals needed firing. But still. I recommend it as an activity for when you have a long period of waiting for news that you can’t promise will be good or bad.
In between these feelings of foolishness, uncertainty and ameliorative bubble blowing, a long-known and loved friend from the halcyon days of my youth arrived to stay for some work of her own in London. (Did you know halcyon is a mythical bird?) It was great timing really, because here was a distraction that worked to fill my brain with another person’s needs. And I was ready to enact excellent host, as a way to stop being so achingly and disgustingly myself, i.e sad bubble blower who jeopardises important things. But little did I know, she’d mend my needs instead.
This friend is Kavya. And you might have her heard her music, or seen her on a recent Netflix series. (And if you haven’t, then you should). But this isn’t about all those undeniably cool things she does get up to. It’s about how, in hanging out with her, my life felt creative in a way it hadn’t before. Which is not to say that my life has no creativity, but just to say that it is different. With Kavya, I felt her energy permeate the space around and make it sparkle and shimmer, it paints familiar spaces anew.
I loved watching these small creativities; how she transformed the obvious space crunch of three people sharing a one-bedroom flat into live GRWM videos. So much so that my partner began to tell us his OOTD before leaving for work. Or how she took breakfast seriously, and I abandoned my everyday comfort oats meal, for elevated art ft. Turkish eggs, beautiful compote bowls, and little snacky avocado toasts with fancy bread.
I loved the way she saw the city, breaking it down into lines and colours and shapes. I loved playing amateur photographer, and marvelling at her ease in front of the camera. But even more so, her ease with people. She already knows the name of the person at the counter our closest grocery store. We took one tube ride, and she spoke to five people. And because I just camouflaged when she did this, became the moquette on the tube seat, I loved my wallflower experience of these exchanges. The only person I spoke to after Kavya began the conversation was someone with a dog (obviously). The dog was a rescue from Ukraine, who’d only arrived to the UK two weeks ago, and his new owner was an aid worker who’d been working through the war in the region, and found him during her aid work. I would have never known this excellent story if not for Kavya.
But hanging out with this cool, creative friend of mine also reminded me of that oft-repeated saying “ I’m a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it.” For someone who is testing out the waters of a creative career once again, I find it hard to accept that I must put in more work. I feel a terror in admitting that I need help, or that I am looking for opportunities, tight-lipped about my feelings and my path in many ways. And so, it was eye-opening to see the back-end work that turns a creative career. There is so much to do outside of the floaty magic of creating things.
By the time Kavya left, I was wide-eyed and curious about the world in a way that mimicked her, filled with an openness. I notice bits of the city I didn’t before, its solidity, its nowness, its colour palette. I almost try to talk to strangers. No comments on if I have ever followed through. I am back to mostly oats or smoothies for breakfast. I remind myself that those annoying applications for funding are part of the package. Of course, I will probably forget these small, creative notes. But how delightful to have learned them through a friend.
PS- My bubble blowing has been less frenetic.
PPS- If you want your heart broken read Brotherless Night. I cried on the tube, in a cafe, wherever I took it really.
Just to say I love all versions of Ranjini including the balcony-bubble-blowing one. Maybe even especially the balcony-bubble-blowing one.
You phool, you. <3
Brotherless Night broke my heart.