Sunday, November 24, 2013

Said & found



Jonathan Safran FoerExtremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Drifiting

Drifting.
Like a log in the seas in search of the shore.
Stars stare.
Waves greet.
Winds blow.
Ships stare from a distance.
Soaked.


(Some days are just too first gear kinds)

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Happiness Is...

So this ones a lift from a friends post who writes way better and more often than me.
Her post made me think of attempting the same on what defines the word.

So what is it to me?

- Watching a river float a leaf as it runs past until the leaf runs out of sight
- Sitting alone in a corner of the house with a book in dead silence
- Watching dust particles bath and glow in sunlight as it peers through the cracks in a window
- By standing and watching a joy wave ride through a bunch of special people
- Look at swallows at dusk and imagine them to be planes
- Watching strangers greet one another at airports
- Driving in the rain on an open highway
- Watching my sisters happy and then watching them try to conceal the emotion
- A drink with Dad
- Also, being his caddie on the course
- Perfect barbecue sauce & the family savoring it up
- A successful snake rescue
- Writing letters and this blog
- Receiving a call from a long lost friend
- Genuine Thank You's
- Hardbound classics
- Lonely planet's travelogues on TV
- Mom in some of my fav sarees
- Getting welcomed by my Dog home
- Restoring old photographs with the brother
- Standing alone to the sound of the wind and water in the western ghats
- That perfect tie knot

Done!


Thursday, November 7, 2013

Have you ever...

Sat on the edge of your bed at night and see life outside float by or even on the edge of a busy highway in a stationary car examined the whisps of air float from your mouth and condense on the pane of glass between you and the world outside.

Seen shadows of passing cars form a northern lights like visual on your bedroom walls and imagined being there tucked under the night sky, motionless in a tent or a sleeping bag.

Waited with hours to spare at your window sill framing your binoculars at the nest of a weaver bird you spotted in your moments of foolhardiness and gazed through them as noon turned to night.

Stared at sand trickle through an hourglass and imagined yourself on the dunes of the Thar race against the wind and quick sand beneath your feet to get to its top and done that in person too.

I have.

Rattled

Life is fragile.
No one is bullet proof.
Everyday is a heartbeat.