IndigOranges

Somehow I am still FLying. Soaring between worlds. Between the SKy and the Earth. And the Stars. And the Eagles and the Gulls. They Swim past me. Gliding on the Thermals. Dreaming of Coasts. Beaches.Cliffs.Crags. Nests. Eggs. Waves. Surf. Eggs. Hatchlings. Babies. Fish.Turtles. I land on the beach. I see the dog sitting on the sand. Looking at the lighthouse. I ask him for the time. He gives me his time. And listens to me. All through the day. And the sunset. And the moon rises. He fell asleep at my feet. With the waves testing his slumber. He sleeps oblivious. To the waves at his feet. To the impending Thunderstorm. To the little crabs that scurry around his wet black nose.   Wonder what he dreams about. I keep looking at him for a long time. The moon sets on the other side of the cliffs. I look across at the tide now rising. It has reached the steps where i sit. It snatches my notebook. I run after the notebook. I snatch it back from the wave. One tight slap.

Five Floors Down I can see the Road. There are cars. Dogs. Gas Cylinders. A dead Crow. An Auto just went by. Packed with School kids and their homework. I look to my side. I see the Terrace of my neighbor. I see lots of pigeons. Roosting pigeons. Cooing pigeons. Mating pigeons. Loner pigeons. Grey. White. Black. Looking up now. I see a blue sky. Dazzlingly blue for a early winter morning. Blue the kind i would use a special filter on Photoshop to create. Make me think of flying and flapping my wings.  And of soaring to see people i haven't seen or spoken to in a long long time. But would they be happy to see me? Don't want my mind to go there now. Can't afford to waste time. I look back. I see the wall. A white wall with pigeon droppings. The other side of this wall is my living room. It has my TV. My gods. My paintings. My sofa. My Books. So i guess i do live there. I look to my right. There's a staircase that goes down. down and out on the road. F

Twelve claustrophobic hours in that glass box called the Volvo be better worth it. Trivandrum isn't near from Bangalore, not on the week before Onam anyway. My manager recently told me that the reason the sands at Kovalam were black and sticky was due to an oil spill that occurred in the region some years back. Well, that and the other fact being that Kovalam in the evening does look like Bangalore’s Brigade road with attached beach, doesn’t exactly endear itself to me – considering that I had Gokarna to compare it with. Then again, where it scores is the lighthouse (an edifice that’s better seen from far than visited and endured), and the sheer power of the waves that just mesmerizes in the early hours of the day. It does pay to wake up early in these parts, just to witness the sheer majesty of the 20 foot high waves crashing on the rocks jutting out from the sand bars. Kovalam is 30 kms from Trivandrum, easily accessed by town bus or autorickshaw from the city. Once y

And then krishna brought the chariot to a standstill in the middle of the battlefield, and he said thus - "now then partha, listen to this story of a self obsessed neurotic, and you will realize you have it so good..." "A feeling of déjà vu hangs in the air. I remember that I have been here earlier, in the not so distant past. It wasn’t pleasant then. It definitely isn’t now. But I seem to be doing this with an amazing regularity that it now seems that I am destined to do this to each and every one of those I care about. The thought process right now is one of resignation and indignation; resigned to my consistent ability to damage budding relationships of varying natures with my levels of insecurity driven impulsiveness, also labeled as immaturity by those in the know; and sheer indignation at the amount of complexity and sheer idiocy I keep adding into my already clueless existence. Makes me wonder if in addition to my inabilities at handling electronic gadgets, motori