Girl by The Window: Deepika turns writer

Actor Deepika Padukone spins a story about love, life and longing.

Thoughts, unending thoughts – bordering on anxiety? ‘Girls just wanna have fun’ or so they say. There’s some of that but plenty of slogging as well, which is why I can’t fall asleep – something that’s usually as easy as switching off the lights.

Guess I am trying to exorcise the day from my system. When one is extremely tired, one can’t sleep easily.

Never believed that…till today.

Ten hours at the studio, four spent on travelling – I should’ve been a zombie but my mind’s buzzing. Who am I talking to? No one, myself, and everyone. Questions don’t need answers.

It’s 3 a. m. The sea stretch visible from my room seems to be resting too. Not a ripple, not a wave. The half-moon is shedding a glow. Can’t see the stars distinctly, they are just freckles. Not one of those mega-watts moonlit nights which have been the staples of romantic novels. In fact, there is something tender about a night illuminated by a moon, suggesting romance, love, togetherness.

But who knows, those picture-book drawings associated with a moon surrounded by stars, as its courtiers, may be a fallacy. A myth? Made-for-each-other – a catchy phrase but sometimes I wonder if there is anything like a perfect pair. Can’t be, that’s possible only in Robotland. Statistics seem to scream out loud that urban stress, differences are slowly but steadily extinguishing those moonlit nights.

Into The Night

Now, am I being cynical? Looking at the darker side of the moon? Actually, I’m just letting my thoughts run. This new apartment of mine is a sign of my independence. Always wanted to buy and cherish a house of my own. Which girl doesn’t? Unless she has this notion that marriage, husband, in-laws, and children are her tradition-mapped destiny. Absolutely natural. No quarrel with that at all. I’d want to be in that situation too but that’s still far away. Miles to go before I sleep…with anyone in the same room! There’s something comforting about this house. I can be alone, need that private space. I haven’t recruited any domestic help. Let’s see for how long I can zoom up in the elevator, unlock the door, walk in, cook myself a small dinner, go to sleep, like clockwork. Not sure it will last long. I may believe I need solitude but that could be a passing phase. I suspect I need people around me.

The security arrangements at this high-rise seem good but there’s always that fear. An intruder? A ghost-ha ha? An extraterrestrial? But then why should any ET alight on my apartment, and not on someone else’s. Girl, next you’ll be imagining flying saucers descending on the sea right before your eyes.

Take light, go to sleep. Pillow, pillow, here I come… MOONLIGHT SONATA From my window, there’s no sign of daybreak yet. The half-moon’s still on. Wish it would leave politely the way journalist ji did.

Stop it, stop the day from replaying on the turntable of your mind.

Go on, count those sheep, try to snatch some sleep. Should I put on some music? Should have thought of that earlier.

Music! I’ve been avoiding talking about music. I might as well confess that’s what’s keeping me awake. I was sure romance, in the traditional sense of the word, was dead. But then last night, I got this text message from someone I had considered very special in my life. Our friendship had disintegrated, and that too somewhat acrimoniously.

Last night, this friend sms’ed me, must have been around 10 or 10.30 at night. I thought he was being cute. Cute and smart. The sms message asked, with a smiley, if I nursed any secret desires. Typical of him to use such a word. Desire! Without thinking, I messaged back, ‘Yes. Desire to learn to play a musical instrument.’ Within a few hours, must have been a little past midnight, a grand old master piano was delivered to my doorstep.

I’ve been trying to ignore it…in vain. It’s sitting there, right there, right now, bathed in moonlight. There…I have said it.

Now you know why I can’t sleep.

I feel lovely, happy…er…desired.

Love knows no yesterdays or todays. It just is. Perfect…or almost there.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s