The loveliest music of all

For me, the most beautiful sound would be that of falling rain. I find it very soothing, relaxing. Just as rain washes the world, the sound of it washes away the grime and dirt in my mind, my heart, my soul. It says to me, “Stop worrying your little heart now. Lie down, read a book, or an old issue of Tinkle perhaps; make yourself a hot cup of coffee or Horlicks, and take a break from everything else, while I sing for you in the background.” I don’t put on music - not even ghazals - when it rains. I don’t want anything interfering with the sound of the rain.

So very often at night I have had some strange nightmare that in my sleep I struggled to get out of, but could not; feeling helpless, compelled to watch the uncomfortable scenes in front of my mind’s eye. And it started raining outside my window. The rain gently brought me out of the nightmare, without quite waking me up fully. Half awake, I say a small prayer of thanks to the sweet sound and fall asleep to better dreams. And the sound of the falling rain outside still in my ears.

Life is easy... too much so

Imagine a soft, cozy over-stuffed couch. You sink right into it. It feels so luxurious. You are watching TV, and have drinks and snacks at hand. It is so comfortable, you just don’t feel like getting up. You make a couple of half-hearted attempts, but your body refuses to co-operate. Eventually you might even fall asleep in it.

My cozy over-stuffed couch is my parents’ home. Life is getting a bit too comfortable. I tried getting off my ass once or twice. Half-hearted attempts. This time I am making sure I yank myself out of it and walk into the jungle out there.

I think it is dangerous to get complacent in life. Keep your blood hot and running. Take risks every now and then.

What is YOUR couch?

Make way for the king of our street

I had my first sitaphal of the season last week. It is my favourite fruit. It wasn’t very sweet but it was most amazingly fragrant. Almost like a frangipani flower. Do you which one is the frangipani? I am sure you have seen it. I don’t know what it is called in Hindi. I am assuming that you may not know what a frangipani is, because most of us know animals and fruits very well, but are quite bad at recognising flowers and birds. I wouldn’t be able to recognise a koel if I saw one, although there is one in our neighbourhood singing its head off every spring.

Speaking of animals, there is a local street dog in my mohalla whom I call Fatty because he is motu-motu compared to most street dogs. He is a study in calmness. He does not get into fights, does not run after cars, just walks majestically up and down the road or lies down on the footpath in a dignified way. Yesterday he was loafing about in the rain and was sneezing. Even the sneeze was so majestic. He puts into mind a king who has been unceremoniously dethroned, but does not let it affect his regality.

Even Amar would not have felt like kicking him. (It is a reflex action with Amar – he has to kick a dog if he sees one. I hate him for that. Otherwise I love him)

Ouch!

He not only breaks my heart, but proceeds to hammer away at it diligently till it turns to powder, taking care not to leave any piece unattended.