That's it! I've searched for my inspiration long enough, with not a clue about where it's gone or if it will ever be back. There's only so long one can go on searching for something that disappeared without so much as a wave goodbye! The sort of life-long commitment seen in Indian movies (or old-fashioned romantic novels) does not have a place in my world any more. So it's goodbye, inspiration and hello, sheer determination. Or something like that...
***
I was serenaded today, at work. My first serenade ever, and all that was lacking was a guitar and a starry, moonlit night. What it didnt lack was an audience - my colleagues were all there, cheering him on.
The serenader was our jolly postman, who never misses an opportunity to flirt with everybody - but I suspect he targets me in particular because I am easily embarrassed by extravagant compliments and flirtiness. Embarrassed in a tongue-tied, oh-gosh-what-do-I-say-now sort of way, not in a bad way, because our postman is really a sweetie and not in the least offensive.
Postie (as we know him... one of these days we really HAVE to find out his name) is usually the highlight of our working day. He's invariably cheerful, funny and like a ray of sunshine on a dull morning. And that simile is remarkably close to reality, considering how dull, leaden, cold and dark these winter mornings are!
My first impression of our Postie was that of a big man with a booming voice and a large misshapen strawberry for a nose in a face that was skewed ever-so-slightly, as if he was partly in another dimension. Until he smiled - and then not even his crooked teeth could take away from his undeniable charm. He's the personification of that oxymoronic term "pleasantly ugly" - and he's witty, funny and warmly genuine with it. A one-in-a-million guy, that one. I'm glad we're on his morning rounds!
Oh, and if anybody is wondering what he serenaded me with, I havent a clue. It was something in Italian.
