Back From the Dead. More Like Undead

I'm trying to make a 'comeback' to blogging. Like most, much hyped comebacks in Bollywood, this one too seems to be like a disaster. My next attempt will be an item no. An attempt after that will have a to be a reality TV stint. I really don't want that so I'm going to make this a successful piece.

Where do I begin? Should I tell you about my trip to Kasol, in Himachal Pradesh? Oh how I yearn for that trip again.

Just wandering around hills and streams, eating delicious food, sitting on a huge rock in the middle of a stream and reading a book and falling asleep in comforting sunlight.

I am just making it sound more romantic than it was. Memories afterall are stories we tell ourselves. John Slattery's words not mine. We blur the parts we don't like, enhance the brightness of particular portions and ignore everything else.

Coming back to the Kasol trip. It was life changing in many ways. Back from the beautiful hills I decided to quit my job and figure out life. This was followed by more trips to Pondicherry, Kodaikanal, Calcutta, Delhi, Jabalpur, Kota, Ladakh, Gokarna and now I've reached a new continent.

Though I still haven't figured out my life. Some more wandering and wondering will be necessary to get to the bottom of this. While I do that I'll try and write more, a lot more. The one thing I did figure out was that writing is the only thing that can keep me alive.

Keep an eye on this space for my next item number. It might just be a blink and miss cameo.

Oh and here's a picture from Kasol, year 2013. ©

WINTER SUN

Winter has to be my favouritest season. Monsoon is close, but winters are way to beautiful. You might not agree with me if you come from a part of the world which is always cold and laugh at me when I say I dream of seeing real snow someday. Well all I have to tell say is each one to her/his own.

The best part about winter is the sun. It's almost like half of the sun's rays take leave during winter. So, its warm and soothing. For once it's welcome. Everytime I sit and soak Vitamin D, some very distant but clear memories come to back to me.

It is almost like the sun switches on some button and I see myself in my mothers house. There is a big open courtyard there and I see myself lazing on an old armchair in the sun. This has never happened before. Maybe it has. The winter sun just gets this image in my head and I dream of the big court yard and the blue swing.

Or perhaps trapped in the concrete comforts of a so called city life, some part of me still yearns to be in a quaint, dreamy countryside. Where life is paceless and beautiful and you feel every moment that passes by. Where a nap in the winter sun does not make you lose anything, it just makes the season more beautiful.

This could just be a very romantic illusion of a city bred person, maybe all that quaintness has something disturbing in it. But isn't that the beauty of anything romantic? It rides over all the maybes and creates an illusion of its own.

So I have to make a confession that Shaw's Bluntschli made, "I suffer from an incurable romantic disposition." Blame it on the loveliness of the winter sun.