In Paris with you- James Fenton

Just the other day I read this  poem again, may be for the millionth time. And still it charms me the same way it did, the first time I read it.

 In Paris with You

 Don’t talk to me of love.  I’ve had an earful
 And I get tearful when I’ve downed a drink or two.
 I’m one of your talking wounded.
 I’m a hostage. I’m maroonded.
 But I’m in Paris with you.

 Yes, I’m angry at the way I’ve been bamboozled
 And resentful at the mess that I’ve been through.
 I admit I’m on the rebound
 And I don’t care where are we bound.
 I’m in Paris with you.

 Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre,
 If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame
 If we skip the champs Elysees
 And remain here in this sleazy
 Old hotel room
 Doing this or that
 To what and whom
 Learning who you are,
 Learning what I am.

 Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris,
 The little bit of Paris in our view.
 There’s that crack across the ceiling
 And the hotel walls are peeling
 And I’m in Paris with you.

 Don’t talk to me of love.  Let’s talk of Paris.
 I’m in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
 I’m in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
 I’m in Paris with…..all points south.
 Am I embarrassing you?
 I’m in Paris with you.

-- James Fenton

Newer things and nostalgia

Life certainly has changed since the last post. I now write for people living on a distant continent, very different from mine. People I have known about through sitcoms and endless rom-coms. I live not only different time zones but also different identities, not to forget my poor body clock which is completely messed up right now.

It’s like a little bit of me belongs there as well. So if a neighbourhood bagel shop shuts I know how it feels. Not because I visited it as a little girl, but because people who read my stories have done that once in their life and it matters to them (btw the much featured and loved Bagel shop in upper west side is shutting down. This quintessential Bagel place appeared on TV series such as Friends and Seinfeld.)

I have also moved a few hundred kilometres away from loved ones and friends. I live in a different city now. Of course I am settling down to its groove but Bombay is and will always remain my first love, followed closely by Paris of course ;)

Bangalore is the fourth city I am living in the last two years. I hope to write more about the new place, new experiences and all the lovely people I meet.

Also I am dying to watch Midnight in Paris by Woody Allen, only if I find a decent copy somewhere..

The Parisienne

4.30 pm Paris: While braving the heavy graffiti laden walls in the outskirts I caught glimpses of the mighty tower and it seemed nothing close to romantic. I let out a deep sigh and turned away to browsing my Ipod. Though my eyes weren't on it anymore, my mind was still unknowingly lingering over it. I wasn't even close to being mesmerized but a frail thought of disappointment started settling in. I quickly diverted my attention to the old buildings and even the more modern tall ones which reminded me so much of Bombay. So much was written and said about the Eiffel tower before. Tall claims from friends and reviews by other travelers who gave the testimonials of it being the perfect mush spot. And there I saw it stand in all its steel glory in a blackish grey garb just like a tombstone- pale and dead. It just stood amidst life as a silent observer.
In the next 20 minutes I was in the middle of busy Parisian roads trying to reach the main center for a good French meal.


10.30 pm Paris: Within hours of being around the same place suddenly I felt as if I had traveled thousands of kilometers and was transported to a different world altogether. The Paris of the crazy , hot afternoon was nothing like the Paris of night rather twilight, considering it get darker only after 11.30 pm in the summers. Rows of light in different shapes, sizes and colours spread out through the entire city, till eyes could find a boundary. Like twinkling little stars they shone as I made my way to the Eiffel again. This time my eyes transfixed on its beauty, she looked like a beautiful bride almost ready to walking down the aisle.


The clock struck 11 and there was a sudden urgency in the air, people turned towards the tower and there it looked as if someone had infused it with kilohertz of life. She sparkled, twinkled, dazzled for five minutes and those were the best five minutes of my life. What would have been more perfect if I had that someone to share a little French kiss with and then probably I could have claimed to live the French way :)