When I started talking about chalk...and reached cheese in no time...

Whenever I have a mental static, I look outside my window for inspiration. Not that there is much outside. The first thought that strikes me,always,is that it is all too green. The Neem tree outside,the henna bushes,the sort-of-abandoned plot next door,the wasted almost 8-acres of land where the Ghost-house stands(it is not a Ghost house really,I call it that because no one stays there and it is huge and intimidating)...all of it is too green,way too green with shrubs and plants and trees and what not. I don't have a decent piece of sky to look at,owing to this profusion of trees.

And when it is raining,like it is now,it makes me feel like I live in an African rain forest. It gets dark bit by bit. I can almost see the darkness creeping in,outside first,then at my window,moving across my room in tiny steps... I love rain,I really do. But I don't like this weather much. I am more of a sunrise at the top of a mountain,sunset on a beach kinda gal. This much green ain't ma type huh...(Imagine a very southern brogue please. I have a thing about it. I think it is very sexy. I used to think the same about British accent but two years in the UK sort of disillusioned me. Now I use it for mockups).

This has been my view since I was 6 or 7,since this house was built. The only difference was that there was a house and a well and even more trees in the next door plot. The people who used to live there had been our long time neighbours. They used to own the house opposite to ours too(which they sold it to the people living there now about the same time our house was being built). Come to think of it,I think they used to live in that house and have always rented this one out. They had moved away for a while,but then moved back again for some reason.

It was a strange household. There was an old lady,her husband and her mother(who was like a hundred years old) and relatives with outlandish names visiting them occasionally. I used to think of the whole lot of them as snobs of the first order. The husband used to play a harmonica every afternoon when the whole neighbourhood would be trying to catch a nap. It wasn't so bad always. But sometimes,it would be so hot and muggy,and the power would be out and one is trying to get a few moments of shut-eye,and this dude starts playing...that blows the lid on your temper like nothing else does. Anyway...these people moved out eventually,the house actually being in the lady's sister's name( who was in the US of A,who was butt ugly with an equally ugly husband...but with two beautiful children!!!)and she didn't really want them to live there...lots of family drama. Finally they left,the plot was sold,the house torn down,trees cut and the well levelled. Pity really,because I liked that house...wasn't very big but had a sort of charm. 

For some reason,I have always associated the tearing down of that house to my Grandmother's death. I don't remember if they happened about the same time. One of the last memories I have of her ,is her grimacing at the noise of the trees being cut down and saying that,to her, cutting trees feels as bad as killing small kids. Weird simile,I know...boy...she was a hell of a woman. I still miss her. To this day,when I suddenly get the smell of frankincense in the air or when a lonely firefly wanders into my room,I can't help but wonder if she is visiting her favourite grandchild on the sly. That thought is like comfort food,right up there with rolled over jelly sandwiches and greasy maggi noodles. :)

On my Hilltop

This used to be my favourite wall paper for a really long time. I used to imagine myself standing on that slope near the tree and watch the sun set every evening (well,not every evening exactly,every evening I would be at that place that is). I would have a house on a bit down from there,tucked away in one of those folds between slopes,nothing elaborate,but not exactly a bare minimum cottage type either. I'd wake up every morning (that I can manage) and sit on the railing of my porch with a cup of coffee and listen to the stream bubbling under(of course there has to be a water body nearby,that is sort of mandatory) and the birds chirping in the background...That makes for a nice picture,doesn't it :)

Whenever I used to picture myself on that hilltop,it was always just me,alone,not lonely exactly,but alone. But after I met you,I feel like maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone beside me over there. I have never felt that I would need company when I embark on some  "time with myself" trip,away from everything else that defines me. But now I have started thinking that maybe,just maybe,it wouldn't be so bad to have you with me. It scares me that I can actually envision letting you into my personal space. Yet I am secretly thrilled that it is YOU. I have always imagined that I will find someone so perennially interesting an uncomplicated to spend my life with...That sounds a lot like you. We don't yet know each other that well, but evidence suggests that we could be each other's soul mates(Excuse me,I've been watching too many true crime shows). I am willing to take a risk and give it a try...Are you? 

Rain Rain Come Again... ;)

The summer showers are very strange. Their routine is almost predictable. They prepare for onset by about 4.30 pm, the sky starts to darken with rain laden clouds, thunder starts to rumble and Wham!!! ,it starts to rain. This predictability has an inherent unpredictability (talk about oxymorons!!!). You can never say by the skies how hard the rain is going to fall. Sometimes it might look so stormy you feel like a 'Katrina' is on the way,but it just drizzles on and off for hours and drives you crazy. At other times,the sun might be shining its head off and all of a sudden it starts pouring like hell...the day might still by bright while it rains too. It is those drizzles that are never ending. Once it develops into a full fledged rain,it just keeps at it for an hour at most and recedes. That is my favourite kind,it provides a respite from this annoying heat and doesn't become annoying itself. Can't wait for the monsoon to kick in!!!

We went for a drive in the rain yesterday,to a place called Neriyamangalam,enroute to Munnar,where the high range just starts. It is apparently where my Grandfather grew up,I had never even heard of the place before yesterday..lol ;)

Beyond this stone called the "Rani kallu" after  the Queen Regent on whose orders the stone was laid,marking the building of the road to the high ranges,Its hair pin bends all the way...

As I said I sooo can't wait it to be monsoon ,for this horrendous heat to dissolve into dewy coolness,to see the trees glisten with raindrops,to watch the shoe flower outside my window sway shyly when the rain falls on it... Incidentally I am reading a book called "Chasing the Monsoon" now. It is by an English guy with a weather fetish called Alexander Frater who went chasing the monsoon from Trivandrum to Cherrapunji...What a journey it might have been...and beautifully written too :) :) :)

I want to.....

I want to stand on a cliff top and feel the wind rustle my hair.

 I want to run against the rain while it lashes at my face.

 I want to fall like a feather against gravity, and float weightless in the air.

 I want to sit by the river and listen to its stories.

 I want to swim to the opposite bank and shout out "Yaayee...I did it" when I get there.

I want to rise with the Sun and see the sights no one has ever set their eyes upon.

I want to howl like a wolf when the moon shines down on me.

I want to sleep with the stars singing to me.

I want to walk the paths of beasts, and watch them hunt (hopefully not me).

I want to live the life of flowers and perish at sundown.

I want to drive to the end of the world and just stand there looking at nothing.

I want to be at peace with myself, laugh at myself and just exist...