Friday, June 28, 2013

Regular magic

Nowadays work has not been smooth-sailing. Also, today, a friend decided to talk to me like a rabid Rottweiler (is that how you spell it?) getting all defensive and rude. The tyre of my car got punctured - third time this month. I nurse a slow fever and a slight headache. My eyes are dry and my gums hurt while my teeth compete with my throat over who can give the sweeter pain. So, all in all, crazy day.

A while ago, though, yesterday to be precise, I had this strong urge to turn my life around by the end of the year. I sense that it will possibly involve taking up a new hobby, maybe shifting base somewhere, going for Vipassana, being in a relationship with someone - something. More importantly, I intend to change the way I think. Or okay, more fundamentally, become more aware of what I think. By the end of this year, I intend to be more free. Like free only the way I can feel fleetingly at the moment.

Anyway, after a long time, a colleague insisted that I walk home with her. I am so glad she did. It was nice. On the way, next to a wine shop, is a large bush filled with off-white blossoms. At night, in the oblique light of the street-lamp, their tips look tinged and wet with fresh varnish. The fragrance, though, is spicy yet sweet and oh, so heady! It's interesting that something that smells as intoxicating as that should be next to a wine shop.

We walked past commenting on two dogs that scampered up to a nursery and smelled the flowers. It was really sweet. And then, I saw something really breath-taking. There was a tree on the opposite side of the road that stood ramrod straight. It didn't bend or lean or curve to one side or anything. It stood straight as an arrow. It was really tall, nearly three or four feet above the nearest street-lamp. In fact, the street lamp was just below it, dully shining its yellow light on all the world. The tree top swelled into a leafy cone and pierced into the inky jelliness of a rainy night sky. Just the lower portion of the conical top was tinted golden with the light of the street lamp. The leafy-top seemed embossed into darkness. It was stunning.

Things like this make you wonder that maybe somebody in the Universe keeps tabs on how rough your day is going. Then you step out and there is this -  a sight that will blow you the other side of midnight.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

A different kind of first

This is the first post I'm writing from my very sweet looking, well-behaved piece of equipment,  Samsung Galaxy tab.

It's a Saturday morning,  there are some tentative movie plans made, a glass of warm water and honey being sipped. There is comfort in the fact that a kettle filled with tea is just within reach, should I want it. The weather is lovely.Cold wind and bright sunshine with the hint of rain within kissing distance.

Typing all this out on the Tab will definitely take some getting used to. But so far, it seems to encourage the writing.

It's good.

Wednesday, June 05, 2013

The becoming of bliss

The sky stretches the way a muse would. She poses on a lush carpet of infinity for some great but infamous artist. The carpet itself is woven with time and sequined with seasons. One part of the tapestry had started turning grey. A little rip in the infinite carpet and a moistness spreads – like power up a spine, like sleep through the mind. In the distance, birds fly towards the spot of the sky that has started turning darker. Grey deepens to black. Treetops sway. Little spurts of silver rain sweep across the world. The muse has started to tremble. The artist has begun to paint. The monsoon is a masterpiece yet.