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.