winter in paris

Le Gruyere
The human heart is a kaleidoscope. With almost every beat a new pattern emerges and a bit like the 24 frame effect of the movies, we feel a sense of continuity.

There were three of us that late Sunday morning in Le Marais, the hip and smoothly international district in downtown Paris. Maya and Sebastien are theatre actors, once were lovers, and I envied their unstated understanding of each other. As Sebastiens guest who spoke only English, I had to accept an unnatural passivity and stayed alert to cues for action. It was then my first week in Paris.Till Mayas arrival, I loved the moments : the walks to Notre Dame, the early winter baring of trees and the occasional burnt sienna maple leaf skipping a few feet ahead of me gathering its momentum from the drafts of hot air through heating vents. Sebastien would nestle my elbow into his to make me walk faster and I had to remind him that I was fascinated by the sights and sounds and didn't care to be rushed. He looked way thinner than our last meeting and at 34, his handsome face was sharper and crinkled into lines every time he laughed. Life is difficult for sensitive people and being French doesn't help. Nor does it to be an actor, however talented. So there was this unsaid pain hanging in the air but I liked my days with him. Simple merry days of shopping, cooking and walking.And then came Maya. She spoke no English, had a week of rehearsals and was extremely hyper the whole week and Sebastien was so understanding of her. I had to suddenly find my way around and the French disdain and arrogance hits you like a chill. They will not give you directions, not return a smile and make you feel like scum even when you are burning money at their stakes. It was so confusing those days and I wondered why I wanted to write my film set in this city.On Sunday morning, I was making plans to shorten my stay. Or go to London instead. Sebastien and Maya were doing the routine morning at the cafe and I, my yoga at the appartment. They returned laden with food and a lets do a big brunch sort of feeling in the air. Eggs were fried as was steak and crusty French bread to go with. Then he opened the fresh gruyere cheese and I was beaming at the sight of its soft whiteness. In the past I had always eaten this cheese in a semi hard form and light yellow look. This cheese was something else. As my face showed my delight Maya warmed up to me. She insisted on knowing about me and Sebastien did some rapid fire translations till I could almost sketch her boyfriend. Such a moment of intimacy and all because I loved their cheese. Maya's mother was an Indophile and had lived and taught in Pondicherry. By evening we wanted to do live the next few rebirths in the same city.The french are a bit like us indians : rude and arrogant most of the time but in both hearts is a old worldly love foreach other.

Just took fresh gruyere to discover it.