Monday, December 3, 2012
The stories were all dead by the time the rains came down. It was brutal just like that. One of them, however, was left with one dying alphabet. I thought it would resurrect itself with the rains but the death was instantaneous.
People ask me what I do with all the time that I have. I say "nothing". They probe deeper.
The truth is, I've lost all track of time. With the clocks crushed, what has set in, is a lightness of being. I've even come to enjoy the glances of disgust that people have come to throw my way. Everything sweeps over and I'm reminded of Kamala Das asking Merrily to imagine herself as the earth "and there are streams running over you."
I never had this peace before. The peace that comes when you let the mind wander. But the wanderings have changed, too.
I no longer dream of the tall casuarinas, or the naked summers, or conversations of deceased lifetimes.
These days when my mind wanders, it so often lingers around the roar of the sea in Thumba, that I heard all through the day sitting in the barsati while the skies of Kerala gathered themselves for the year's first monsoon.
Now Playing:: Jaane kya tune kahi..........Geeta Dutt