Thinking, sinking, eating icecreams

Saturday was a gorgeous day in SF: bright sun, perfect temperature, and gentle breeze. So took the BART and decided to get off at Powell – just to hang around in Union Square and then, I knew at some point I’ll be able to pamper my latent desire by sneaking in to few of my favorite places. The place was all lit up with festivity. Street musician, performers, shoppers, tourists, old men, young men, pretty girls, not so pretty girls, uncles, aunts – everybody seemed to be there.

It was apparent there were as many tourists as there were locals. I don’t know in which category I fit in these days. By law I am a Virginia resident, but with most of my time spent here for the last four months, I don’t fall into the tourist category anymore. With this dichotomy there comes a sense of confusion. The urge to take pictures of every passing building does not come by, nor do I get the trigger to step in to the Museum of Modern Art. While I anxiously think of treating myself to La Dolce Vita in the big screen; a good dinner in a French restaurant, I keep drudging along telling myself - to go or not to go.

Meanwhile, I come to my first treating point. A bowl of rice with the choicest sashimi – and I feel a certain sense of satisfaction and redemption - a sense of completion and a connection to my source of life. All taking place as the empty chair in front of me bears witness to the commencement of my new cycle of existence.

Next to me I find a couple – the guy dressed in all black on this sunny day and a girl who seemed to have outgrown the clothes she is wearing. But all seemed to mellow in their togetherness and their being with each other. The black seemed to radiate color and those knee high boots seemed to wither away in the background - the way they showed their love and care towards one another – unfettered, uninhibited, and unperturbed. I could not resist watching their free-spirit as I glanced with my furtive looks.

Food was great but a string of something missing started strumming in my self. And before it started playing hard, I decided to dissolve in the crowd. Walking from one block to the other – I become one with them. This is one of the reasons I love big cities. Many a time I have cleared my head, solved complex equations, and untangled life’s spaghetti amidst them – the crowd. I am no longer a singularity, for I am among them – a source of boundless infinite energy to draw from.

There are times like this when happiness is followed by a sense of pathos – more specifically an earnest longing for the anticipated lived-experience of togetherness. Pathos not because that she is not there with me physically but because I can’t show her my eyes now - the window to my soul that breathes and swims in her longing. And as I recall what one of the sages tell Maitreyi in our Upanishad – that it is not for the sake of her that she is loved but for one’s own sake. So living through this crest and ebb of happiness and sadness, I come to terms with it – that this long stream of ether does connect me to her – somewhere. So, I decide to ride back to planet earth.

I found myself treating dark hot chocolate fudge from Ghiradellis at Stockton. There is an uncanny mischievousness in the whole thing. First, I get a compliment from the “guy” at the counter for my good looks. Well, don’t forget this is San Francisco! Then, it is quite an experience to stand on the sidewalk – shamelessly and blissfully consuming this manna in the cup as passers-by watch. From kids to grandpas, from the dad driving a stroller to that loud group of teenagers fighting for a prom-king – all stop momentarily, as if a pearl has dropped from their string of time, and take a quick gaze as I take one spoon at a time. Eyes twinkle and faces radiate – each a sinful smile – as if telling me, hey you are consuming a bit of the sweetness from this world, but we too love indulgence and very soon we will join you.

With the last drop of chocolate, I knew I had to move on. So off I enter Cody’s where the books galore will keep me engaged for the rest of the day until night falls and the train will take me back to my bed and sleep.

As for the dinner and cinema and museum and arts - there will be some other day. In the midst of this explosion of human conference and the binding common theme of apparent collective happiness, I know my best experiences can only be lived with her. And I’ll wait for my own sake.