An Invitation to Whim and the Mingling of Lives

When we were doing one quick neighbourhood run to buy gardening supplies earlier this week, it started to drizzle, and then it started to rain quite heavily. There is a certain old-worldly Raj Kapoor-Nargis charm to walking in the rain with one umbrella between us. Right at that moment was when boy also said, quoting Longfellow, "Into every man's life, some rain must fall." That made the moment quite perfect. The timing of boy-quotes probably need a post of their own. 

Later in the week, I had a physio session, for which I took the cycle. Boy was at home and I had not carried the key with me. Boy messaged when I was nearly done with the physio, to say that he was heading out for the haircut in the neighbourhood market. Since I also wanted to head over to the market to get coffee grounds for the house plants, I decided to join him in the market. 

I went right up to boy's salon and realised it was this cute, old-worldly barbershop. Apparently, Verma's unisex salon has been open for 58 years or something. And, it truly felt special - the barber was as old-wordly as they came, working with a blade to shave boy's tiny hair around the ears. There were two chairs with a big mirror facing the front, and old-fashioned white light. All of this came together quite nicely to feel all quaint and charming. I also liked watching boy get sculpted by the barber. Fascinating to get a glimse into the world of men's grooming, especially when it is set in the 1960s! (My brain also fully burst into HD imagery with the men in the 60's traipsing into this tiny barbershop wearing those bootcuts and sporting those vintage hairstyles with sideburns and all that. Fun!) But, more than that, it is endearing to watch one's loved ones in moments we've not seen them before. It fosters a fuller, if not better, understanding of them, 

A matcha latte beckoned, so while boy was getting his hair done, I headed out to get both the latte and the coffee grounds. Having cute coffee shops in the neighbourhood is always a plus, because one gets to do spontaneous activities like going to get a surprise cup of icy matcha latte in the middle of the day when one had no plans of being anywhere near the market. Happenstace of the easiest, most comforting variety. Boy joined me at the cafe after his haircut, and got himself a coffee, while we waited for the grounds for the plants to get packed. 

Going back home was also eventful. I slow-cycled and boy walked briskly alongside me. We found this combination worked in Hoi An when I had to cycle because of blisters on my feet. Delhi can be a little complicated (to say the least!) vs idyllic locations like Hoi An, but we made it work. We stopped by our neighbourhood tailor who works inside our colony, for boy to pick up things he had given for mending. That's when it started to pour. We waited for a few minutes for the rain to stop, but it didn't look likely, so we decided to make a run for it. The house was a mere 5-minute-walk away. 

So I kind of slow-cycled again but not right next to boy, and he walked behind me. I kept turning back to look at him and smile at him, because it felt liberating and happy to abandon all inhibitions and just be out in the rain. Some people like to dance in the rain, we clearly like to slow-cycle / brisk-walk through the rain.

The point of all the rambling, you ask? The joy of happenstance. Spontaneity and happenstance usually go hand-in-hand. While I love living a calendarized life, knowing exactly when I need to be where, because it helps with giving structure to life as we brave an increasingly wilder and more chaotic world outside of us, I do love giving in to the (very) occasional impulse of playing it by the ear, especially when it is in one's neighbourhood. This is also why I want to cultivate a neighbourhood community. It feels safe, and easy, and less scary to let down one's guard when one has a 15-minute city around oneself to rely on fulfilling most of one's needs. Stepping out beyond this 15-minute city is discomfort. But, within the confines of the familiar neighbourhood, one can occasionally let go and wait for life to take its course. It is always beautiful. It is also usually enjoyable.

Happenstance or coincidence - a chance conversation with a stranger that we remember down the years, a random generous act of kindness that makes us pass it forward everytime we see the opportunity, a chance meeting with someone we meet for the first time but who we seem to have known all our lives, the discovery of a new road back to one's house, the happiness of a scenic route one has not seen before - is what serves to weave the tapestry of rich experience into life. While we go about our increasingly solitary lives, it is happenstance that gently nudges us to find moments of connection, of camaraderie with the other solitary lives around us. Of course, we can (and, if you ask me, SHOULD) plan life right down to the last minute. But, every once in a while, when one feels safe and is comforted by the presence of the familiar and the known, inviting whim into one's life may not be such a bad idea. No?