Weary

You are but what I am,

Comprenez-vous?

Making wishes since very long,

Saw them all disappear behind moist eyes.

Like the feeling you get in a train,

Watching the landscape fly past,

And you yearn for that one glimpse, 

That one elusive nameless something.

Drowning is imminent,

No drinks, no pot, 

Just a lot of mundane routines,

I still hear your sounds, 

But you never gave me that one look.

You never gave me that one smile,

It's reserved for someone special, I'd say.

And I craved like a fool looking for the riches.

Persistent-pessimist, someone calls me,

The sun is tired, and so am I.

Lets Kill All the Lies

Brutal honesty is no balm, 

And little did I know

That the gospel would shatter my calm.

Collecting the scarred fragments of the heart,

I will seal it, but it weighs the mind down.

Lessons have always been tough,

And I'm a reluctant learner.

But now I know,

The light at the end of the rainbow had faded a long time ago.

The dream had died, and the warmth had burnt itself out.

But I refused to buy any doubt.

I always liked to play make-believe, 

And now I wish I could tell the child

Its better not to grow up, the world is teeming with thieves.

A cruel glance, a flick of the chin.

That will be enough to let you know.

That it was ever so easy,

To make me let go.

A gulp, and the tears are swallowed,

And nobody's the wiser because none saw and no one heard.

Over and out!

Will write in disjointed words. No time to frame sentences.

Train journeys-"The Blue Mountains"- The Nilgiris-Annamalai-Mudumalai-Cold chills-hot, steaming coffee-rich tropical forest-nature trails-night walks-leeches and ticks!-Teak, rosewood and of course sandalwood!-Inevitably Veerappan!!-Trumpeting elephants, Gaurs and Sambars-some photographs-late night nostalgia with friends-gossip and gupshup-moments-the last tour-the last time as a class-the last time with friends...

End of the Year Blues

Is it something I am missing after all this while?

After all once the gutsy heart dared to dream.

I wish I could find that place once again,

I could see the point where the sky embraces the earth.

To be a child or an adult is the eternal confusion,

And standing at the precipice is not fun.

Decisions are always tough and eat away precious time.

But sticking to them is tougher than anything else.

Each day is good, each day brings with it a new wonder,

And I firmly resolve now not to lumber.

Past years are best relegated to the attic,

Dustballs and grime will slowly fade them away.

The mind is the quickest time-traveller,

Skipping nimbly through long-forgotten images.

The year is drawing to a close

And my heart is returning home.

Chaos and colour

The state of the mind these days. Whirling dervishes-strong winds-flashing lights-brandishing lights that look like knives-need to kill.
Waits are long, longer than it takes to say somethings.
Words fall short to describe and pinpoint that exact temperature.
Twiddling thumbs and whistling out of tune, whiling away the ticks and the tocks.
And then when you get it for keeps, you realize that you were better off without it.
Chaos and colour-all jumbled. What if everything was just black and white?

The light shines...and all that.

The fact that University days are over for good is hitting hard these days. Undoubtedly this were one of the most memorable journeys that I have had until now. So many new vistas opened and every day was like a new discovery of the self. Ambitions long forgotten started being realized and the good-kind-of-feeling started rubbing in real hard. University does grow on you.
Now if I'm asked to pinpoint any particular memory that stands out everything just seems like a blurred film in fast forward mode. Rush rush rush. A curious mixture of 1 and a half years packaged into a 30 seconds. We entered, made the best possible friends and now we are on are way out all too soon.
Being out is strangely exciting, so many magical stories, worlds and people to explore and so many chances to imbibe their experiences and learn. Again the feeling of being a small fish in a big, big pond.
But this small fish will grow- That I promise you :)

Clear Confusion

 

Walking on the road, with its innumerable twists and turns,

A path struck out, fantastically long.

The path, the legs longed to learn,

And the mind broke into an impromptu song.

Hidden behind spangled grasses green,

A dew dropped, pretty pink winked and preened,

Neither an illusion, nay a delusion, 

It was nothing but clear confusion!

The Rajasthan Chronicles-Day 7 (Ranthambhore-Tiger Country Continued...)

Shoved down a quick lunch and set off for our entry into the park in a canter. As usual there was some deliberation and people were being shuffled from one canter to the other. One boy with a girl's name and our sweetest friend was unceremoniously asked to leave our canter much to our dismay. This did much to dampen our mood. And then we set off!!! Super excited at this point of time.

The hill ranges rise up majestically on the right with wide expanses of land and then slowly the landscape turns more rocky with plentiful streams tossing out of some secret place. Vegetation too become denser as one goes deeper and at some places they knot themselves threateningly. It's very dark then and you are reminded that here you are nothing but an outsider. You don't belong here. We were allotted Route 1 and boy the twists and bumps we were subjected too!! The canter surmounted impossible rocks, squeezed itself through the narrowest paths while we remained mute spectators-the landscape was too captivating too elicit any word of protest from us. We were lost back then, the eyes always searching for some sign, some hidden movement, some glistening of the eye-hidden treasures of the forest all. We exclaimed only when someone spotted the deer, sambar and the neelgai. But the tiger remained as elusive as ever. But in the end that really didn't matter. Going inside the park itself was an event for me. The fact of missing a tiger doesn't stir up any charge in me though I would be be the last to deny the fact the that sighting the tiger would rise up my emotions sky high. In other words I would simply be mesmerised and wanting to sigh a sigh that only erupts when the magical wild spell-bounds you and you say-that's beautiful. So this dream has to mark it's time for another day. The tiger will wait for me.

And so we spotted the usual fauna of Rajasthan. Wild boar was and so was the call of the leopard that we heard while on our way out. It silenced the forest into stillness. The langurs on the tree didn't move an inch and then the sambars called out to each other. Something was not right for them. We hung around for a quarter of an hour but lady luck didn't budge to smile at us. The tour guides said that the leopard is going further away from us. Perhaps the leopard sensed the fact the idiotic tourists were waiting to gape at it with mouths hung open. It must have been a long way off before we decided to quit and move.

Evening we drove into town and loitered around. Had dinner at a useless place which thankfully had a television. Had a good time pulling faces at my class-mates. After dinner I was with a friend in her room. She was not keeping well and we both were sitting just yapping. That is when we heard terrible banging anf laughing erupting from the corridors. One of tour senior's had been locked into her room by the hotel staff and she was banging the door from inside. The other girls were outside holding the sides and laughing uncontrollably while the hotel boy sped to get the key. And lo! behold! he opened the door to find it empty! Our ever enterprising senior had risen to the job magnificently and had flied the coop! ( read-she had escaped from the bathroom door into her neighbour's room) and while the hotel boy was searching for her, she turned up from behind. The night was just beginning!!!

The infectious atmosphere spread and she decided to dress up as a local with a toy doll and scare our Ma'm who is mortally afraid of appearances like these. The plan was made and the lead actor ready. A black skirt, bangles, heavy payals and a dupatta covered her fhead and face. The doll completed her outfit. She was sneaked into our Ma'ms room and the lights were switched off. All was calm and quiet on the front. And then-out came the scream and alongwith it our Ma'm running out of her room with her hands over her ears. She was bone-scared by this apparition which called to her from the bathroom in the dark. And then out came the monster tumbling with tears of mirth. It was most hilarious. Ma'm recoverd enough to give us all a spanking on our butts. It was well worth it.

Next morning was again to be a lazy one. Others were catching an early morning canter ride and now much to my chagrin I'm regretting my foolishness of turning down the opportunity.  They spotted a Caracal! I,  however was more intent upon recovering from my illness and wanted a nice bit of morning rest.

On entering our room it looked as if a tornado had swept through it. It was a horrible mess. But we didn't care. I don't remember much now. I think I just plonked onto the bed and was fast asleep.

The Rajasthan Chronicles-Day 3 (Jaisalmer continued...)

I approached the camels with some trepidation, a memory from the past had woken up and I remembered the feeling when the camel got up after we had sat on it. I actually couldn't wait to sit on a camel again. They were to take us to Sam Sand Dunes to view the sunset in the desert. I chose one camel and sat on it. One of my friends joined me and then we were off. We were thrown in the front and then the back while the camel got up and all at once numerous screams of fright and excitement filled the air as the other camels also got up. Our camel was named Sharukh Khan and the camel's handler was Khurim Khan. When the camels started walking we were still giving out screams and sometimes out of nowhere some camel would start trotting resulting in some more louder bawls from the ones on the camel while we laughed at them and then only to start hollering when our camel started doing the same.

One of our Michael Jackson crazy friend, by some providence was sitting on a camel named Michael Jackson and couldn't quit raving about it! The camel handlers were really young and seemed to be not bigger than 12-15 years age though most of them claimed to be 16-18 years. Their small size caught them out. I was soon at ease on Sharukh Khan. He was a calm fellow and maintained a steady pace and our discomfort was negligible. I was merrily clicking pictures when out of nowhere a screech drowned all the noise. A camel was trotting very fast, our Head of Department was calmly sitting in the front, talking on the phone while behind him sat a boy who was desperately waving his hands in all directions and wailing at the top of his voice. It seemed as if the boy and his voice was scattered all over the route. Withing a blink of the eye men and camel had disappeared leaving behind just a cloud of dust. It was singularly the most funniest sight that had met our eyes in the desert. I laughed till tears poured out of my eyes. Towards the last leg Sharukh Khan started a good run and our camel ride ended with satisfaction. Again while the camel knelt down, we were instructed by Khurim Khan to lean back to ease the getting down process.

After getting down we were badgered to provide bakshish by the camel handlers but we had been told previously that they had been provided with their share of cash beforehand and so not to fall prey to their money-extorting tactics. The sand dunes rose up magnificently and we started climbing one particularly steep one. All the sand entered our shoes, pulling us down but we trudged on and on reaching the summit we were rewarded with the sight of even more sand dunes in the distance. We started playing on the dunes with all of running down the steep one and then diving into the sand. Everyone was in high spirits and the gaiety was contagious. Posing for photographs, running in the sand, finding beetles, admiring their patterns in the sand, watching the ripples in the sand and the shifting sand ahh...It was the most relaxing evening. We had nothing to do but wait for the sun to set.

While we waited, a group of kids surrounded us, begging us to see them dance and sing. They would break into a impromtu song and dance routine and then demand money from us. They tried it on the people there and some were followed by their fathers carrying a tambourine and the jew's harp. The music washed over me It was sad to see the kids do this but the kids bounded about joyously from one unsuspecting tourist to another.

The sunset was one truly rewarding experience. Brilliant orange, red, yellow- my favourite colours all throwing up new hues and shades with every passing second. At one point the sun was divided into 2 parts. The upper part had shades of yellow and the lower part had shaded of orange. As the sunset a silence befell the desert as everybody stood transfixed looking at the sun. It was a rare moment and time stood still. I felt that I could sit there forever watching the sand under the stars and listen to the music that tugged the heart strings.  And then the sun set but it left behind a myriad of colours right from purple, pink, red and the promise of truly a brighter and beautiful tomorrow. A song came up to my mind but only this was a tequila sunset.

While walking back to our bus I spied a thin boy wearing a superman t-shirt sitting upon a camel. I muttered something about superman not needing a camel to transport himself. my voice carried over to that superman and he swiftly flexed his muscles grinning down at me :)

Our stay for the night had been arranged in the tents a little away from the dunes. The evening came alive with camp-fire, sufi music, tiras, rajasthani dances dressed in the most wonderful colour. I felt more so alive experiencing this huge treasure trove of culture unfolding in front of our eyes. The bhavai was stunning as usual and so was dama dam mast kalandar and kesariya balama. The men wielding the tiras won everybody's hearts with their dexterity and skill and the jugalbandi between them and the dhol was captivating. A dutch lady sat next to me and she kept up a steady dance sitting and she seemed totally entranced by the music. We got talking and I learned that she was professional dancer and she was in India to explore the folk dances. She was adept at belly dancing, tango, latin american, ballet and many more dances. She nearly emptied her wallet on the musicians and dancers giving away plenty of notes. When the ghoomar begun we were pulled up to join in. Faster the beats demanded and faster we swayed to keep us the rhythm. We danced and danced and couldn't stop our feet. The fast beats made us lose all our control. Finally it was time for dinner and a rustic meal had been prepared. The traditional thali with dal bhati churma. We were so tired that we just gulped it down. Meanwhile our class singer had taken over the mike and was now regaling the audience. When she sung tujhse naaraz nahi zindagi my heart broke. It was simply beautiful.

Next we attended a meeting with the tour manager who was still expressing his reluctance to take us to Desert National Park. He was firmly put down by the teachers and the HOD showed his disapproval. the tour manger kept saying that we don't have permission to visit the park while a student said that no one can deny permission to students who want to visit the park. The student had her contacts with certain people in the park who assured her that we were welcome to visit it. We decided to visit the park inspite of the tour manger's misgivings. The cold was now starting to creep into my skin and we were shivering once again.

After the meeting we got ready to sleep but we were still in the mood for some merrymaking. Our tent was stone cold and dully lit. So, we crept up to the room occupied by the other half of our group and exchanged bits of the usual juicy gossip. Their room was more cozy than ours and within 15 minutes I could feel sleep over-powering me. We slid back into our rooms and slept by 1 a.m. It was blissful and we slept contented.

The Rajasthan Chronicles-Day 2 (Jodhpur)

We woke up refreshed from a good night sleep. But the biting cold had followed us to Jodhpur too. I awoke at 5 and couldn't stop my teeth from chattering like mice! After a sumptuous breakfast of parathas we set off. A day in the blue city.

Our first stop was Umaid Bhawan. It is sprawled over an area of 1 sq.km and built in Indo-Sarcenic architecture. It was built for the welfare of people during times of drought and famine. 3000 artisans toiled to make this marvelous piece of splendour in Chittar Sandstone. It houses 347 rooms and a part of it opened to the public. The rest has been converted into a hotel run by the Taj Group where the minimum entry fee is Rs 3000. The Maharaja's family still occupies a part of the palace. I was surrounded by clouds of delight when I first saw the palace. It was simply majestic and one could feel the grandeur that hung about the museum. The artifacts took me to another world where being royal and regal was the done thing. Exquisite pieces of glass bowls, vases, dinner sets in the most wondrous colours only got out squeals of excitement out of me. Dinner rooms and living rooms that had been recreated there were quite a sight. Out on the lawns 4 vintage cars had been put up on display-a Packard, Morris, Overland and a Buick. A pleasant visit to Jodhpur's royal heritage.

After lunch we checked out of our hotel and set off for Mehrangarh fort. Finally a breath-taking view of the blue city unfolded before our eyes. The houses here are painted blue to keep the temperature cool during the scorching summer heat.  Merangarh fort is among the largest forts and was built in 1459. One has to pass 7 gates to reach the fort and each gate marks various battles. The haunting sound from the Ravan Harta greeted us when we entered the fort. The melancholic melody pulled a veil over my eyes and I was back again wandering in another place, another time. It tugged the heart-strings and I was mesmerised, not a muscle moved. A shout from our teacher broke the spell and I scurried over to join the group. Here at one of the gates another sight greeted me. A faster rhythm was being played and one student lost control and started dancing which was promptly taken up by the rest and then finally the whole group. Definitely enjoyed this impromptu dancing session. The guide then begun his ranter but I was least interested. I was more keen on seeing the place and eventually I ended up seeing this fort only through my camera- a clicking frenzy overcame me and I couldn't stop clicking pictures. The architecture is so intricate and the lattice work so perfect it seemed unreal. The hands that worked, carved, chipped and moulded the stone must have possessed magic to create such stunning works of art.

The fort had marvelous palenquins made out of silver on display-some shaped like animals and some with intriguing designs. An old man sat outside one of the rooms displaying how to use the hookah caught my fancy. He was continuously asked by the tourists to pose with the hookah-he seemed pleased with all the attention that was being showered on him. The curio shop in the fort seemed a costly affair but had very pretty jewellery, kurtis and stoles. While leaving the fort the Ravan Harta again beckoned and this time we spent a quarter of an hour listening to the music. But this time the man played filmy songs and I didn't find it charming.

We halted next at Jaswant Thada but didn't visit as we were running short of time. Instead the bird-watching gang ran off to the banks of a stream and exclaimed in delight over birds whose names I cannot remember. They had their eyes glue to the binoculars and shouted over some coots and moorhens. Sir had to drag us away from the spot.

We then visited one stupid garden whose name I didn't bother jotting down because it was so stupid. The vervet monkeys came bounding down when they saw us and made rude faces at us. The garden was still under construction and I found nothing worthwhile in there.

We left the garden soon and made way to a tea stall where a dugdugi was parked. The rickshaws in Jodhpur are a very narrow affair, they have the air of being squashed from all sides. We made one of our friends become the dugdugi driver and then the real dugdugi driver made an entry and he was drunk to the boot. He gave us some more interesting ideas for posing with his dugdugi.

Tonight we had to travel all through the night to Jaisalmer. The night journey was fun and our seniors related engaging stories and then kept up the tempo by relating ghost stories. We halted at Pokaran for dinner and immediately all jokes were directed towards having radio-active waste in our food. Pokaran was even more colder than Jodhpur and as we neared the desert the cold increased. We had food at Shimla Dhaba and the hot food did manage to take away the nip for a while.

Reached Jaisalmer at 2.40 in the night and swiftly put ourselves to sleep. I was worried about my camera. My memory card was full due to my clicking frenzy at Merangarh fort. I decided to deal with the problem the next day.

Rajaon ka Sthan

I've been listening to a wonderful song since the past week- Mark Knopfler's -Me and the Wanderlust. It's fitting because the wanderlust bug has bitten really hard now. Packing up my bags for a 2 week tour of Rajasthan-The land of the Kings.

Home to one of the oldest people in India-The Bhils, somewhere there is a tiger if you are lucky enough to spot one, and someplace else the desert can swallow you in as you gaze mesmerised at the sifting sand dunes, the women who really know about colour all the more because of the bare and barren landscape, where the men dress in pristine white and turbans of varied hues adorn their heads, where the palaces in all their grandeur tell stories of centuries gone by, where the killas repeat tales of glory and sing praises venerating their heroes... and then the legends of the Rajputs...

Rajasthan seems to have offer all that a traveler craves for- Romance in Udaipur, Adventure with the wild-life, tempting cuisine to tickle the taste-buds, shopping for the love of art, royalty everywhere and brazen toughness also everywhere.

On previous occasions I have thought Rajasthan to be a dull, drab and boring state with nothing in it except sand and IIT classes. Hovever, since the time I have started reading about it I have been floating at higher heights, dumb-founded at the richness it offers. So spectacular, so splendid.

Our Rajasthan expedition starts with Jodhpur-the Blue City and then Jaisalmer, Bikaner, Jaipur, Abhaneri, Bharatpur, Ranthambore, Ajmer, Pushkar and ends with Udaipur-the Venice of the East. My scrapbook is ready, my bags are packed and I just have to get on that bus.

Bidding an au revoir with Knopfler's Wanderlust :-

Big black cloud
On a yellow plain
Sure enough it
Looks like rain
Packin' up all our
Faith and trust
Me and the wanderlust

Open window
Empty bed and chair
Who's that callin'
Ain't nobody there
I look behind me
And I see there's just
Me and the wanderlust

Dead of night
I had a dream
Sky was bright yes and the
Fields were green
I was down the road
In a cloud of dust
Me and the wanderlust

And I'm on the edge
Of an endless fall
Sure enough
He's come to call
Got to go now
Get on that bus
Me and the wanderlust

Why Tunkie Sleeps So Much

No I haven't yet woken up since I went to sleep what seems like aeons ago or was it just yesterday or was it an hour ago. I am not too sure about that. I tried all that I knew, but it's tough to tread the fine line between emotions and cold practicability. But gloom nostalgia seeps in like the grey swirling mist through every pore of my skin and the weight which I'm lugging around becomes much more entrenched than ever. No I don't hurt no more. I'm just numb because the iron grip becomes stronger than ever. There is a sadistic pleasure in this numbness. And I have lost all desire to wake up.

Wrote this a long time ago. And it doesn't hold true anymore!!! :) But I still sleep a lotttt!!!!!

University in the Rains

I can't wait to start going to University. The fresh greenery gladdens my heart. I can't wait to get wet in the University in the monsoon. Oh and to see the water drip gently off the leaves into a puddle, form tiny streams and meander off somewhere. And then following those streams to see where it continues flow or does it just play a trick on you and dives into the ground?

And then the little drenched bird's plaintive cry resonating in the ears from somewhere high up; but the eyes can't pierce through the thick growth of trees.. But oh..but oh..my eyes want to see that little bird.

Then to sit at the canteen waiting for a steaming cup of coffee and hearing the steady pitter-patter of the rains on the metal sheets. Listening to that sound tells me how heavy the rain is and from there I can see the rain fall in sheets and the wind tosses it in this direction and that..Just a white hazy mist is all around then. And then the coffee arrives and the lazy steam curls up over the coffee into nothingness.

Search

So, I'm still on monotonous search. Monotonous because the heart is not in it. Rewinding seems comfortable, easier and more sure. Sometimes the search leads me to places that make my heart skip a beat-again and again. Just when I least expected it but feeling that I'm going to find it, feeling it at the back of my mind. It happened right now. I struck gold, not at the Olympics. Found something that's blowing off my mind.

The rain is making the picture dull and dreary and more so. The sun shines intermittently but not on me like it used to. Nevertheless, I'm much more darker than before. I'm patient. The moon will cast it's gentle white light on me.

Moonlight Musings

As usual I was wide awake during the journey when all and sundry are likely to sleep. It was 2.45 in the morning. The bus was on it’s way to Bengaluru. The wayside was cast in an unnatural glow by the moonlight. My musings were just about to begin, I could feel them soliloquizing in my head running around in circles, looking for a vent in the form of inconsequential thoughts. I quite like Rowling’s idea of thoughts having a silvery-white colour and like wind made solid and light made liquid. When I read that line I felt a melancholic sadness because I felt so deeply that one wouldn’t ever be able to see thoughts in that form ever. It still seldom fails to make me dismal and casts an unfriendly gloom over my solemn features.

I saw the moon meander it’s way across the sky back and forth though the road seemed not to twist and turn. But it never left my gaze. I travelled a bit to the past, a year to be exact. It was 2.45 in the morning but that time I was comfortably curled up with a blanket in a train on the lower-berth looking out at the moon’s reflection in the dark, still and silent waters that were barely visible but for the moon’s glow. And suddenly a mist springing up from nowhere meandering like my inconsequential thoughts, those water-side weedy marshes harbouring unfamiliar perils and the green taking on a dark grey colour, reminiscent of ghosts slithering in the light but steady and cold breeze. How I wished that I could just touch all those once, wash my hands with that eerie ghost like moon-light as the train wound it’s way through the Siliguri corridor. Sublime beauty. I consider myself to be very fortunate to experience this sanctified splendor. Yeah, I was lucky once upon a time.

I was unable to give word to those images conjured up by that night and I still believe that I fail to do justice to them. But the moon beams in the night made a few words tumble out never-mind the fact that it took it a year to do so. This journey showed me plain barren land with a few dry shrubs springing up never so often but far and wide. Though the landscape was not so distasteful, it was probably the reason for me to give word to images of a year gone by. This dreary background had seemingly strong trees near the road covered with dull grey flowers like a sheet of lace and the road seemed to journey fast. There was beauty here too.

But this treacherous heart vanishes a-plenty to rest in that unfaithful beauty. It put up a pretty show once for me and how the heart wishes again and again…

And It Rained Today

I like driving in the rain. Mom said that it would rain today. Mom knew right. And the rain lashed like a fury and how! It tore the leaves down and strewed them across the roads like a carpet along with branches and flowers separated prematurely from their stalks. The water bore down across the roads like a river unleashed and tossed and turned us like flowers being blown by a very furious wind. It was just perfect. Just the thing that I was yearning for since a year.

Driving in the rain is truly enjoyable as long as I’m set with decent rainy wear, my helmet and of course my bike which sloughs on faithfully against the rain beating it from all the sides it has.

Today I had a friend along with me so the bike was heavy enough not to topple over because of the blustery weather. The balance was perfect. We screamed, we sang, we laughed and we didn’t cry. People viewed us quite accurately like two lunatics who ought to be taken up to task but we cared not.

The rain made me full and pleased with pure delight. I could laugh at the people waiting on the roads for the rain to cease all because I had my rain-jacket. But my superiority over them was only to make me feel better. I was completely drenched after all in the time that it took to halt the bike, to get the jacket out, to struggle and put the zipper on. Each second was slow and as soaked as the sea. Nevertheless, we managed and it had a curious wet charm of it’s own.

We had just filled our senses with cold-coffee with thunder rumbling over our heads warning us, hinting at us the gift it was going to present to us. The thunder joined us in our laughter. It was pretty wise.

I usually don’t look forward to the rains as it conjures up horrid images of muddy waters mixed with the all the grossest stuff on the road, sticky wet clothes, no electricity and the usual rut. However, now those images seem to have faded in the background no longer threatening me. I quite like the rains now. Though this feeling will vanish in the coming months that I’m sure of.

The last time I got wet in the rain; I cried. The time before that I was overcome with contentment along with a squiggly–wiggly feeling in the tummy and this time I guess I’m glad I got wet in the rain. Like I said, I like driving in the rain.

Yellow Flowers

From where I’m standing and looking down, I’m taller than the tree. I can see the top of the tree. It’s covered with yellow flowers and they look so beautiful. I just want to scoop up all the flowers in my hand and hold it against my cheek. I can see all the branches sway when the wind blows. It sways in all the directions. The flowers seem to jingle then from pure pleasure and thrill and that’s when I feel like swaying too.

That tree seems so wise. It seems to tell me a story each time I look at it. About the thousands of flowers it has borne, the numerous birds it has sheltered among it’s boughs, the pieces of vagrant fabrics stuck too it but never too often, the leaves that have been shiny green on it and then fallen down, turned yellow and withered away into dust, the countless raindrops that have seeped and filtered through it drop by drop..

But what I’m more interested in are the flowers because they seldom fail to send me to the heights of ecstasy. They just make me so happy. My heart feels warm then. I hear the sound of cheerful bells each time they sway. They sway with so much joy. It’s as if they are yearning to kiss the wind each time it passes above it. They seem content to be their right there, on the top. The highest flower can see so much from up there.

I wonder now and then whether the tree thinks about me. Many a time I feel that the tree now welcomes me by making all the flowers on it dance with wild abandonment. It’s as if the tree derives pleasure from making me happy too.

Very soon summer will pass and the tree will turn bare with dusty brown leaves leaving only an illusion and a whispering silence that will haunt me and remind of the beautiful yellow flowers of a golden and brazen summer. The rustling will never stop echoing in my ears the promise of a more splendid yellow summer next year.

Resurrection

So I'm back after a 2 year long hiatus. Decided 2 start writing once more. Words flow more easily now. Times changed, people changed and so did I. Two years is definitely a very long time. I grew up and grew down too.


Hell, I went to the moon, got drunk, lost my heart to a certain Mr.M, and I never even got it back again. A major bumper ride. Really swell. And I'm still stuck on the moon. Torn between the desire to stay and yet to come down back once again.


The moon taught me to be happy. And boy was it tough! The first lesson and the last lesson were to learn to smile and now I can't stop smiling. It makes me so content.
And how do I tell Mr. M goodbye?What if I stop laughing then? Mr. M doesn't know that others taught me to smile but he taught me to laugh.