As I get ready to travel, I am filled with a kind of inertia. A peculiar form of inertia for I am busy with little things right through the days and well into the nights. I am about to leave for the US (after a gap of about six years), for a few weeks. I'll try and keep the blog going as far as possible.
As the summer sun gives way to pre-monsoon showers in Bangalore, I feel very rooted here and it is with some difficulty that I tear myself away. The birds are calling out and the garden beckons. Lilies and frangipani seem to bend towards me in greeting, the lotus is abuzz with insect goings on. Vivid splashes of colour provide a cheery greeting especially against the backdrop of the clouds.
I know I will leave behind summer power cuts, water shortages, wars of attrition with maids, battles with dust and grime. I will also leave behind mangoes - glorious deep yellow-orange, sweet and sour, of which I am eating too many. (Perhaps my skin will finally clear up!)
This is a very people-oriented trip; I go to meet lots of old friends, colleagues and family. I decided to break the travel inertia (for long trips to the west) that periodically seems to overcome me, and to get back into circulation. And so, another day for the last minute clearing up, dealing with piles of laundry (which the campus ironing fellows lost and fortunately recovered!), consoling my temperamental watch which always breaks down at the thought of travel (the campus watch man has given me an extra battery, free of charge, with a sweet wave of his hand), cooking strange and tasty stuff with bits of left overs and saying hurried goodbyes.
I feel as though a part of me is ensconced at home and another part is already in the air. I'm scattering bits of myself (rather my thoughts) and hopefully picking up a lot more, a bit like a fluffy, peaceable dandelion. Winging my way to the west.
As the summer sun gives way to pre-monsoon showers in Bangalore, I feel very rooted here and it is with some difficulty that I tear myself away. The birds are calling out and the garden beckons. Lilies and frangipani seem to bend towards me in greeting, the lotus is abuzz with insect goings on. Vivid splashes of colour provide a cheery greeting especially against the backdrop of the clouds.
I know I will leave behind summer power cuts, water shortages, wars of attrition with maids, battles with dust and grime. I will also leave behind mangoes - glorious deep yellow-orange, sweet and sour, of which I am eating too many. (Perhaps my skin will finally clear up!)
This is a very people-oriented trip; I go to meet lots of old friends, colleagues and family. I decided to break the travel inertia (for long trips to the west) that periodically seems to overcome me, and to get back into circulation. And so, another day for the last minute clearing up, dealing with piles of laundry (which the campus ironing fellows lost and fortunately recovered!), consoling my temperamental watch which always breaks down at the thought of travel (the campus watch man has given me an extra battery, free of charge, with a sweet wave of his hand), cooking strange and tasty stuff with bits of left overs and saying hurried goodbyes.
I feel as though a part of me is ensconced at home and another part is already in the air. I'm scattering bits of myself (rather my thoughts) and hopefully picking up a lot more, a bit like a fluffy, peaceable dandelion. Winging my way to the west.
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