I returned from Paris towards the end of July. Instead of going directly to my house to deposit my suitcase, you invited me to come to you. I landed around twilight. My baggage, however, would arrive the next day. Air France had messed up.
A week later my landlord gave me and my flatmates an informal eviction notice, which meant I had to go through the tiresome drill of having to scour the city for a reasonably priced place to live. I had to give up the arrangement I had with the two other women I lived with. We had all agreed it was time to move on with our lives and part ways. S was keen to live alone so she could have her boyfriend over whenever she liked. M’s budget was too restrictive. I was tired of living like I was still in hostel. This would be the third time I’d have to move since I made Delhi home. I was enthused by the thought of new possibilities but fettered by the uncertainty that came along with it. I found myself spending more time at your house, in denial of my situation, wishing that your apartment could be a more permanent home. Until one morning, while on my way to the market, I stumbled upon an idea: couldn’t I just move closer to you?
I was increasingly annoyed by that seven-kilometre schlep that separated me from you. Autorickshaw fares were on the rise. Besides, the whole affair was just an inconvenience for me; my clothes, my belongings always stashed away in a room I was paying for but barely living in.
I told you about my epiphany. You were sceptical. You discouraged me, told me I was sure to find cheaper houses about two kilometres away. But I was adamant. I had already imagined the convenience of it. Despite your advice, I went and spoke to a realtor and made an appointment.
I fell in love with the second apartment I was shown. It was on the second floor of a building located on the corner of a street that was separated from your street by 200 metres. No structural interruptions for at least 180 degrees, which meant that throughout the course of the day, sunlight streamed through like a constant revelation.
The day after I moved in, I calculated the distance between your house and mine. Three minutes-long. The length of a song.