Dreams are renewable. No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.

-Dale Turner-

Friday, 15 January, 2010

the beast that loves potato chips & other stories

The last two days have been bliss: the recreated forest, bird calls, brilliant stars, lots of A & N, and waking up to the beast licking your hand.

Yes, mine! And she eats out of them too. God bless Pepsi Co., Saif Ali Khan and all the GM potatoes. For Zoye and I have made peace. She will also drool for Hajmola-like candies and get very upset if you pretend to eat her food.

Egg arrives a day late, but determined; climbs a tree and clicks pictures. And I see her laugh, shoulders shaking, after I-don't-know-when. And hogging food at the solar kitchen.

We are like sunflowers, soaking in energy for the next six months: to tackle pressures, answer doubts, and learning every moment.

This is Pongal people, I tell you. This is. Celebrating the earth and sowing new seeds.

But when Egg and I sit in an empty train, legs stretched and eyes fixed on the window ahead, we don't see villages painted black, but a scene from our first ride back home.

There is Stick, Spidey, Egg and me. Sparring jibes, clamouring for window seats, fighting over sanitizer, and laughing all the way home.

Sometimes, I wish I had never met them. Because travel is not the same anymore. Without Stick to ogle at the stars with, without Spidey to rattle for fun, and without Egg to do a “Sajna-di vari vari…”.

And when lost in the forest, cheated by an autowallah, to plod on foot singing resolutely "Chhod aaye hum vo galiyaan...", off-key of course.



My nephew is a slothbear