Watch your step;
Sight may strike you blind
in unexpected places

Sometimes it feels like I have been ruuning forever. I must keep track.
There should be a universal odometer,recording the dimensions of every journey undertaken in these restless one score and six years.Even in moments of outer calm, I can sense the inner turmoil;parts of me dying and coming to life,body and mind relentlessly pursuing their hidden existence. Changes upon changes,nature's wild roller coaster ride.A world of dew, and within every dewdrop, a world of struggle.
There must be a method to it. There has to.
I was playing with the Google Earth software today.The resolution is amazing. I could identify the swimming pool of my club in Delhi,sitting here in England.Then, as I rose higher and higher, the intricate patterns of roads and settlements disappeared, and the earth became a brown and green patchwork quilt,lying crumpled on a vast blue bedspread. God is in the details.
I wonder if it is possible to ever be completely still. To not change.To be, without cause and effect, not a doer,nor an experiencer.However, nature doesn't seem to permit it.Particle within particle is dancing in a frenzy, enthralled by a silent,all pervading cosmic tune.Except perhaps at absolute zero, which doesn't exist.
The world has seen some terrible devastation this year.
Water seems to be the element in a fury,churning and rising,possibly posessed by Shiva's third eye,laying to waste humble lives and precious dreams .More than the lives and property, what we have lost forever is humanity's pride at it's own invincibility, the myth of the collective ability of men to understand and control nature. A lesson in humility,which no " Goddamit sarge" hollywood movie can alter or negate.Such destruction makes equals of the powerless, dirt poor dwellers of Mumbai slums and the relaively priviledged American citizens.
Men have killed men too, and the more sensitive of us sometimes develop serious doubts about the existence of a God that lets such tragedies happen.
I marvel at the capacity of people at self-deception.Life is life, and just that.An insect crushed underfoot carries as much weightage in the universal scheme of things as a president assasinated, as an old man dying of natural causes.
Nature is impartial, and judges all it's subjects equally. We, in our delusion of grandeour have created heaven and hell,sin and virtue, humans and animals, whereas looking deeper, all is flesh,and like all that's living, grows, fulfills it's purpose and merges with the elements.
Saw the RGV flick called D. (my heart reaches out to you, Aditya Jha).It's like watching a painting painted with pure testosterone. First to go in this school of moviemaking were the songs. Now they have decided to eliminate dialogues too. If this strange Occam of an editor keeps slashing away like an editing Sehwag, we would have an underworld 'Pushpak' very soon.The main character has a zen like calm,smoother than a gillette mach-3 shave.The whole brooding atmosphere is so infectious that most of my work colleagues were wondering why I had turned into a silent master overnight.I heard hushed voices whispering "stroke- Broca's area-negative schizophrenia" etc behind my back. But it is really quite a fascinating this thing, silence.After a few hours, the mind does rejuvenate and becomes calm and placid, a blank canvas ready for life to be painted in brighter, clearer colours.
Anyway, my musings have begin to meander. Will pause, and write in another day.
Meanwhile, watch out for the frogs, and Lonavla Khandala road to all of you.

india is still awash in a deluge fit to inspire the albino noah and his brood of beasts.
maharashtra soaked, then drowned, then dried for a while, and then soaked again, just for the fun of it, it seems.
gujarat blubbered under the rising waves again, and again, and as fleets of helicopters calmly sliced the air above, thousands of people walked over the raised rail tracks as the flood sucked greedily at their ankles
trivandrum continues to misbehave, and the rain that seems to have pretty much poured itself in buckets over the rest of the country seems to have sort of taken a breather here, and slipped quietly by.....
and so it flows.....
elections have come and gone. they didn't allow me to vote because they told me that i didn't have one.miffed, i sulked in a corner, and for a short while, contemplated running away and joining the french legion; cast away so cruelly from the bosom of my municipality ward. then the feeling passed, and all was sunny.the reds won, as u have probably heard. life, as they say, is so full of sweet irony. maybe they may have a mid term election. maybe they won't. maybe they don't want. and don't care.for anything, besides the soft linen that caresses their wet and naked asses into dry, rather foolish looking beasts.
yet, like a herd of hypnotised lemmings, the people flocked to the booths; and painting one fingernail black, came out to sit down, smoke weed, and die.
in sha allah.
and wailing lines of bearded men raise a comunal prayer to the sky, their song, carried over the cool ocean air to the boats straggling over there, on the horizon.....
can u see them? there, on the very edge, waiting, their ssails unfurled, their mouths agape and smiling?
come on, be polite,wave.
(and the ocean waves back.)
bye for now.
(and that takes india past 200; its 200-for-5, pity it had to come through with four byes,after such an explosive beginning.)

write , u fucker....

my mind wanders.
my mouth waters.
my kidney stones.
every night.
on 10 bux a pudiya weed from texas.
allah be praised.
the topic of the blog is succinct enuff, for me not to foray into more complex threats and cusses, and to tell u to write, for god's sake, befpore i grow ancient and hypermetropic and unable to see wat is in front of me on a lighted screen....
i saw the image on the net today of the surveillance cameras of the time of impact of the 7/7 bomb.......uve obviously seen it many times, but it was rather sobering all the same, to see it and to just know that things cud happen anywhere, anytime.
mumbai 13 years back was worse, i admit, but seeing a televised clip showing actual footage of the yellow flames ballooning out was terrifying.
i have been musing (as is my wont) on the nature of ure romances, and the interminable patterns therein are beginning to fascinate me.
tennis partners are a common theme. i think we both fairly agree on that.
also germany,first a kaiser, now a fraulein. see?
its the pattern that holds us together neo.......
search for the instructions.
follow the dotted line, and tear.