November 27, 2012 § Leave a comment

I was brought to believe it was the rats – disease carrying beings that run through our well-defined systems and cause havoc and misery. Repulsion is a steady survivor. Even when removed from a stained memory of refuse, it remains. And yet, in the cove of a Neem tree carved in the luxury of time, all repugnance dissipated. Unknowing, we searched for new meaning and adapted afresh. The decay remained strongly rooted in the system, and yet, not all its propagators are as aware or wise as the rat when removed from a complying, filth-ridden race.

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June 21, 2012 § 5 Comments

I watched rain clouds burst and swirl amidst the stars as they curdled together into a haven; one that surprised me with familiarity and security. Home, some called it.

I watched until the sun rose and the clouds ran to the east, leaving a piercing blue sky blunt with tears. It is home, and I am in love.

A friendly goodbye calls out to me from a nearby intersection; time is a powerful, but selfish being.

June 4, 2012 § 8 Comments

A few cloudless hours and a week ago, his body was found. Stiff from the weather, there was a meagre moment of doubt, cleared immediately by the visible chip on his left horn; Boltu was dead. He lay unharmed, as if age merely ran him down and swiftly led him away through the night. There wasn’t much to be said, so they charred his massive body, returning it to the earth.

Time has passed; schools have reopened with the first sighting of monsoon clouds, nudging us on with gentle reminders that with the changing of seasons and tides, we become stories with words adrift.

May 7, 2012 § 5 Comments

Vehicles seep through the roots of these hills, steadily eating through their innards and feasting on the sights. They bring in gold, it is said, making all forgivable. Living in a tourist destination ensures summers breeding traffic, garbage and crowds. Bus routes change, exhibitions and festivals spring up, smiles flash from police faces stationed at every corner; we accommodate, we tolerate. All movement is monitored, we are on display.

Unlike Ootacamund, the queen of the hills, we remain an occasionally popular town with more leopard and gaur visiting. Still, sounds of the forest are replaced by those of festivity and street food stalls popping up overnight, as a vegetable show becomes a weekend of visitors for an otherwise quiet hill.

May 3, 2012 § 8 Comments

He was known to most of the neighbourhood. Familiar and principally calm, he wandered through our worlds, and although incapable of politely asking him to leave, we chose to be welcoming. That was until he found the well.

Situated in the garden of one of the households, the occupants soon found their grass trampled on, flowerbeds revamped, and themselves having to share water with Boltu. About 6 feet high, Boltu is a lone male gaur that traverses parts of our little town caught between forest lands. With a distinguished chip on his left horn and his preference for solitude, he is easy to place. And yet, amidst familiarity, he stood afraid. Fear of bright lights, rocks being thrown, the paramount booing and chasing by those who bought his land left him as cornered and scared as the perpetrators of these acts, leaving all scrounging for a solution between equally worried stakeholders.

And as May pierces through our days and resident unions are formed, we hope and pray that our own struggles are in tandem with his.

March 19, 2012 § 2 Comments

Purple jacarandas lean heavily on the heart while mornings burst with scattered yellow promises. Uneasiness sets in as a shallow walk leaves shallow breathing. How it is to be young and run like clouds upon dusty lands and unadorned mountains; when painfully crashing into sides of earth brings rain and new life; when a heavy heart and weary mind lead to breathtaking thunderstorms; when lightning becomes from an understanding scream.

Dustless skies reign forth with tumbling purpose, as my return to the hills brings new blossoms and affliction.

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