8 February 2020, Bombay
Lunch at The Table, Mumbai – Sesame-Ginger Chicken Salad with a glass of Erath Pinot Gris from Oregon
Stream of consciousness is bizarre. I manoeuvre a Kala Ghoda pavement, then looked up to relieve a crick in my neck, and spotted a banner for Sudhir Patwardhan’s retrospective at the NGMA curated by Nancy Adajania. “She’s so clever,” I said to myself. And she must be from such a clever family. (Huh?). I have a clever family. Is it too late for me to become clever?
What else is it too late for?
The first thing I ever remember wanting to be when I grow up, is a therapist. I was 14 years old. Papa said everyone would call me a quack. ‘m not exactly sure what scared me off – after all, I really have nothing against ducks. And so, I wonder, is it too late to find out if I would make a good quack?
I’m half-way through my glass of wine. I look over my right shoulder to relieve the same crick in my neck, and spot a member of a whisky club I co-started, then got chucked out of. (WTF is co-started?) She was condescending and rude all those months ago, and I ask if it is too late to take the high road?
Is it too late to go back to school?
Is it too late to dance with abandon?
Is it too late to have someone love me back?
Is it too late to be part of a girl gang?
Is it too late to like acid washed jeans?
I’m looking for a second glass of wine on The Table’s excellent, new wine list… is it too late to find the courage to chase a dream of my own restaurant with its own excellent wine list? Is it too late to dream?
I am re-reading this text for typos. I still write with ink on paper before typing anything into a computer. Is it too late to have beautiful handwriting?
Is it too late to have a hobby?
Is it too late to enjoy fiction again?
Is it too late to join a spin class? (Yes.)
Is it too late to take back seeing Ravi naked?
Is it too late to learn how to make a soufflé?
Is it too late to know what I want to be when I grow up?