With Gehraiyaan releasing in a few days, the promotions are reaching a crescendo. The build up is meaty, steamy and mama-mia is it spicey (all eyes on you Siddhant)! We all know how the unraveling will unfold, he an evasive scoundrel, she an overinvested emotional careergal, but our eyes are peeled for the how of it. Adding more drama to this is the background score and title track of the movie. In the trailer the song comes across as a floaty, roomy, spacey version of so many others we have now sort of grown used to. The female voice is untethered and not in a boom-ey way, never exerting its presence, but in a manner that’s its exact opposite, merely existing on the fringes.

This one time in Goa, after hours of a daytime nap, my then boyfriend and I were out on the road biking our way from one bar to another. Drunk, high, and feeling gypsy light, as our biked knifed through an extremely crowded, noisy cul-de-sac, I remember how my bladder was swell. Wanting to pee, we stopped by along a dark stretch of the backroad, that surprisingly no one seemed to be using. That road side pee was one of the most pleasurable pees in my very long list of roadside pees. That rush was sublime, soothing in its exertion. The urine gushing, felt pure, golden even, and smelled of the hard beer I’d drank that morning after breakfast. It felt like a needed release. Nothing special, nothing extraordinary, in fact imbued with an infra-ordinary everydayness to it.