I feel like I skipped a week. I don’t know. Time is a construct, anyway.

I realise a lot of my social interactions are seasonal. Half of the year is quiet, apart from the low-key-dinner-and-drinks with friends and visits to extended family. But then, in a very “when it rains it pours” situation, friends flow down from all parts of the world to congregate in the local pub or our respective living rooms. For the last 8 weeks or so, I’ve had a calendar to rival that of any socialite. I know people for whom this is an everyday thing, but for me the seasonality of being around many people just seems… right. It also feels a bit like I (along with a few other friends in Bangalore) am holding down the fort for those who’ve left, keeping it warm and cosy and welcoming for when they come back. Am I the mama friend?????

Back in Nigeria, my family was known for throwing the parties of the year — people would buy outfits during their annual shopping sprees exclusively for our dos. After we moved back to India my parents sobered down with time and age, and I picked up the baton only many years later, when my friends circle was tight enough and dinners and wind-down drinks became accessible to our budgets. On Thursday, after coming back from Kodagu as documented in Weeknote 5: She finally takes time off work, we hosted a dinner for friends and family felt like an intentional return to Nigeria’s parties, albeit in a less extravagant, more intimate avatar. Finalising the menu, making grocery and wine store runs during work breaks, breaking out the crystalware and fine china: it all felt strangely familiar.

In other news:

  • I’m rereading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Truly one of the most iconic books — shoutout to the trusty folks at Bookworm for finding me a chunky omnibus copy that doubles up as a paper press in its free time.

  • I felt like making collages over the weekend. Here’s one of the better-looking attempts:

  • I rewatched some of Rajiv Surendra’s videos after Mudita’s weeknote reminded me of them. I once said to someone that he convinced me that romanticising daily chores isn’t weird, or if it is weird, then it’s a good kind of weird. The intentional kind of weird.

  • I want to get back to reading Kannada stories. A downside of my city turning into a melting pot is that I tend to be around people like me lesser and lesser, especially in the workplace. On good days, I deal with it. On bad days, I feel like I’m being erased. Having had to revamp my identity many times now, it is important to me to stay in touch with my heritage. The easiest way for me to do that is by reading, so I wonder what I should pick up next…

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