Visiting my old place

last night went to my former house. To see beloved Anya’s who’s been so busy with her conference that for a week our communication was cut down to short phone talks interrupted by her “Ok, bye – have to go now”. So I am just taking such a familiar way home and find my Lajpat Nagar just as it was ;o) Did not become less gypsy, just less populated (for one time sake, might be a coincidence). Now seems cute. Just amazing – once you are not to live in this place, with this people, in these settings you can easily love it all with you full heart – place, people, settings (you are not to baptise your children with those people, we say in Russia)!

With the firm intention to embrace in endless chatting with Anya I even switched off the mobile and got ready for piece. Not managed to escape from some male company (least desired at that point), some minor and major issues Anya kept on sorting out the whole night. I got little irritated by all that distraction: this girl is such a person who shares everything she’s got with everyone. She would make tea for all of us, would get involved in compassionate listening, would give her clothes at request and without any, would set up a bad for a random guest who was not even invited by her. Her attention is infinite, easily divided and covers everyone.

See, I am quite the opposite kind. As easily excited as I could be I am floating in the sea of interwoven threads between me and the person beside. I do not remember anyone left and I do not know anyone yet to come. Just this person beside is for real. And one per time. She or he would get it all – my caring, compassionate, involved and at times overwhelming attention. My attention is infinite, but non-dividable. I hate dividing my attention. I know, my dear people get upset when away – they know: she is not writing because she is excited about some other people, she does not remember. Beautiful line from some Hindu song translated by Kanak: “I do not remember. But I do not forget”.