First rains of the season. . .

With some awesome music playing into my ears, stuck in the middle of a traffic jam, I got to taste the first drops of rain, this season. . . . 21 feb 20eleven. I wouldn’t have missed the taste of it for anything, if I were anywhere. . . . There was only one thing bothering here and it was my laptop and my phone. They are not weatherproof like I am.  

First thing I did as soon as I got out of the traffic was shout out loud whatever came to my mind, I really can’t think of anything in words. I would simply put it as sounds which came from somewhere deep within. I parked my bike, ran to kalmane dancing to the tunes of music playing in my ears, looking in the eye of all the onlookers sheltered under the awnings of the shops all along the side walk. . . .  

I left my vulnerable belongings behind at the safest place I could think off and I rushed out into the streets. . 

Smoked a cigarette standing at the same place where I’ve been basking in the sun for a long time now. . . . Once again I was up for the stares of the strangers, who must’ve been thinking of me as a psychopath, wandering the streets. Whatever people thought, it just does not matter, the cold drops cooled off my heavy head as they trickled down my face tickling all along. Its a feeling best experienced than expressed. . . .  

I am fucking happy the rains are here and they are here to stay for long. I am happy my bike will be washed off the dust of the summer. I am happy I didn’t miss the first rains. I am happy I smelled the fragrance of the dust as it rises from the ground. . . . I am happy everything will be cleansed all over again and I am happy that it’s just the beginning. . . .

As I am typing it now, I am happy that its still raining and the night is cooler than usual. . . . I am happy for everything the first downpour has triggered. . . .

The Wall. . . .

It’s a race against time and space. Time, before the end of which i have to complete and space , that is available for me to write what’s what. . . .No more bullshitting, even though I wanted to avoid what’s already done. It’s helplessness. . . .

It’s a beautiful, lazy Sunday evening. The light from the sun, up there on the horizon, before he says the final goodbye for the day, is cast on that ‘wall’ that’s right opposite me. The shadows on the wall tell the tales of everything that’s behind me. The golden rays of light from the dusk sun have painted the white wall, as if it were an artist’s canvas, in the colour of the yellow metal with the shadows that constantly change, depicting time that can never be captured but only experienced.

The race is over, the time has won, the sun has set, all that remains now is the plain canvas of the white wall, that will wait for the sun to return tomorrow, with a new story with new characters playing their part, while the space will now remain engulfed in darkness, waiting for light. . . .  

Don’t know yet, what it’s about. . . .

Wouldn't you know this was coming your way after the last post. . . . 

Right now, what I’ve written above is true. I have no idea what i am about to write. Just travelling on an unknown road, I am excited to see the destination at the end of it but not at the cost of losing the pleasure of the ride. . . I’m on a two wheeler mode – so it’s a ride. I just got my bike back from the service centre and she’s ready for the ride. . . In fact I returned just a moment ago from a test ride to see if I could put my trust in her to go on a long, really long journey. . . She rocks, I could feel her romancing the roads. . .

An amazing long car, one of my favourites, is parked on the road. . . . looking out of the window, sitting at my favourite place, waiting for one of my friend to come – I can only imagine a day when I’m inside one of them and somebody else looking at me in awe, as I am at this moment. The day is not in sight at this point in time but the hope of being in one makes me believe its not too far away. . . .

Another set of friends have dropped by. . . Not the ones I was waiting for, but they had informed me about their intent to meet me and that took the surprise out of the meeting. In their presence the friend i was waiting for also dropped in and the conversation turned into discussions and I couldn’t have the conversation I wanted with my friend. . . .

Days have passed ever since and still, the thoughts and the words I wanted to be spoken in the conversation remain fresh in my mind but the moment has been elusive. . . . I guess one can never create a situation in reality we live in, to speak the mind. . . . Mind speaks based on its understanding of the situation. . . .

I’ve been fucking my brains out for quite some time now. I’ve been jumping mediums of expression. Books have been jumbled and the continuity of events in my life has been misplaced in every other place. Putting them together can be a task in itself and I may never put in that extra effort to set things straight. I feel it’s important to let things go wrong wherever they can. . . Some respite from the boredom of order in the daily life. Chaos brings you back to life and keeps you on your toes and the excitement keeps you going a li’l further to see how things fair later, from what they are now. . . .