Saturday, February 13, 2010

Pink, coffee and girl talk.

Pink pajamas, soft cushions, iced coffee and the tangy smell of Mumbai. (Tangy to me because it tickles my nose and throat with its carbon content. It must behave far more aggressively with the inner recesses of my respiratory tract.) A strong breeze gusts through the living room balcony doors, bringing the caws of crows, the barking of dogs and the whirring of automotive engines in with it.

My girlfriend and I are perched on opposite ends of a black leather couch. Our feet curled beneath us. I make a half-hearted attempt to go the whole hog with the ‘girl-thing’ by filing my nails as we chat. I give up. There is much gesturing of the sweeping kind with my animated speech and the file and the nails never quite meet.

For thirteen years – through high school, college, work and different cities we have savoured such once-in-a-year mornings.
What a perfect universe we live in. It orchestrates the crossing of paths and the meeting of minds, waltzing easily with variables like time, space and life experience. Neha and I are at the same place mentally, the same understanding spiritually, speak the same language each time we meet. And each time we meet, we have grown leaps and bounds ahead of the last time we did.
On the human journey where we are forced to walk alone, the merciful Universe sends us angels. They are kindred souls, siblings from our Spirit-groups, men and women who know our core, because somewhere we share the same core and are assisting each other bound over the next hill, slide down the approaching waterfall and dive into the ocean of our own power, reclaiming it for ourselves, again and again.

The only thing girlie about these sessions is the pink pajama dress code. Everything else is surrealistically fantastic. We surf through mysteries of the Emerald Tablet of Thoth, The Secret and Abraham-Hicks, through past life memories, to Atlantis and goddess symbols, remind each other about loving ourselves, believing in our potential, facing our creative demons, testing our boundaries and trusting the Universe.

We could be Lemurian high priestesses in green silks or robed Native American shamans – those garbs and roles would blend in better with the conversation content. The juxtaposition of the pink pajamas and the iced coffee with deep talk is a little ridiculous...

But nevertheless... a quirk of our times. One I find endearing and am enjoying more and more.

Through lives, I suspect Neha and I have shared the same girl-talk. By the Pyramids of Giza and the Incan temples. This time its on leather couches, with pink pajamas and coffee. Ah! To be able to love pink and coffee and still live in our truth...these are truly magical times we live in!


Neha Sahi Saigal said...


Sai said...

Beautifully written! I can see why you sounded so "blissed out" on the phone when you were there. :-)

Jacqui said...

What a special 'ritual'. And the tradition of pink pyjamas is great :)

It was so nice to read about the special friendship you have with your friend. Warmed my heart!

Saraswati said...

@ Sai: Yes! Indeed! I was blissed out.

@ Jacqui: Thank you! Pink, coffee and girl talk are certainly heartwarming for me!