One out of many

A mid May rainy day. A big cloud lonely in the dark sky of the morning alone like me, amid unfamiliar relatives. Heavy with tears and heavy with all.

A hazy KSRTC trip on the wet, uneven roads; through the lively cities; through the coldness of time, I traveled with the open window beside me. The tiny buds of jasmine and wet soil. A fragrant combination of temple & home. The half burnt wood in the traditional stove and cry of dirty crows. A common combination of kitchen verandah & the nearby beach. Dreamy thoughts & a constant sprinkle of rain on the face to wake up in middle of the rich teak estates.

Life I wish just halted. A moment I cherished for a very, very long period. Perhaps a long period till today and if tomorrow then till tomorrow and then again.

An equally aching head and back- the bumping last row seats of a red and beige old bus. Remember the roads and the rain? A creamy coffee for the head and two seats to the front for the back. The stop at the stand for a change. A stand that changes many. As many as I could imagine with messy hair, shabby clothes, no snacks, no water, no magazines. Only tired muscles and sleepy eyes.

The never ending highway to Mysore. The start of elevation-the mountains-the destination. Roaring group of young bikes & colorful kerchiefs on head. A thrilling combination of boiling energy & teenage trends.

And so and so…And this and that…and off course a lot of it too...

The journey was never to end for it was a start that I never want to end. And then…

the rain never stopped…