Mar 29, 2010

drip drip drip

Written on a wet, dark, rainy day.
Left quite unfinished as thoughts flit between Bangalore, Milan and elsewheres in time.


It pours.

It beats on the roof and down on the swelling puddles. The noise is so much, I can't hear over the rain. I put down my headphones and pause iTunes.

Pangaea Rising
Be the Change

Reminds me of the Great Deluge. Apt.

Clouds roll ahead, like surf hitting the beach. Fluid. They glide. The rain slows down to a simmer, it sounds like static. Little grains of blue, black, grey and white dance in a frenzy. Hypnotising. Numbing. A single drop jumps into an empty bucket, the moment of collision echoes through the room. It jumps, echoes; again and again and again until it exhausts itself.


Cold cold silence. It hangs around me, moist, damp, heavy. There are no ceiling fans here. I stare at the flat white ceiling. The snow continues to float outside in the streetlights. There must be a wind too, the snow isn't falling straight.

I sleep.

The wind makes it seem colder. I put on my yellow raincoat as we step outside. It smells strange, a mix of cold rain and new plastic. My shoes are drenched, they squelch with every step, from the water inside and the slush outside. We trek back to Bison Valley Lodge; I hope the leeches stay clear of me.


Jan 22, 2010


I finally made my way to Cochin last week. Internet Kerala was actually all around me and I got extremely kicked when I saw an endless canopy of coconut trees before we landed at the airport (the inside of which smelled of sandalwood). On the car ride from the airport, I counted Kallu kadas, lost track of coconut trees and attempted to read Malayalam. I can actually make out a lot of the characters, so a game of fill-in-the-blanks usually worked for the simpler words.

It was all so oddly familiar.
Except for the accent, which was extremely surreal.

Drew Mohiniattam and Kathakali dancers in the dark, sniffed at spices and stared at windows in Jew Town, saw how fish is caught in Cheenavalas and watched fishermen mend nets, and sat at random places in the sun to draw.

Airports and Sleepyheads

Bengaluru, Amdavad, Kochi

*new notebook: A gift from long ago, and a format that I ought to learn to use better me thinks.