Black as the heart of hell,
Shiny as newfangled love,
Sleek as silver lined ring,
light as a mild heavy feather
Flashy as a sequinned LBD,
rich as chocolate mud cake
With a finish like well-oiled muscle
fits in the palm as a cake of soap.
As for the cherry on the top,
a scratch that makes the matte.
It was in the Periyar Tiger Reserve in Thekkady. That’s where I came across this information centre. They had details about popular tourist attractions in Thekkady, including wildlife sanctuaries, safaris, over night camping plans, and more.
This building in particular, had a weird shape that I had to click it. I love curved edges and beautiful outlines. I like the idea that a building can be sharp and curved at the same time.
And I love the mild pointy top of the arch, the 90 degree angle of the doors, the the roof of the building sloping down, and—best of all—the uneven bricks laid along the arch. There are so many different edges in this picture that I had to take it.
Life is a piece of cake;
there are bad batter days
with too much sugar to take
some days the eggs spoil it
or the salt shaker falls over
the chocolate fails to melt
or the vanilla seeps in too long
you’d want a white layer of icing
and maybe a cherry or two on top
you’d waste more than a few hours
and end up with just a mush of mess.
Life’s like a piece of cake, too
when the wet and dry mix well enough
you’d have a cake you’re proud of.
We live close to Yearcaud (a hill station smaller than Kodaikanal or Ooty) and often on Sundays, we’d ride uphill awhile to kill the time and get high. It was one of those days when the sun was too beautiful to ignore, and I took a picture through the car window. Because sometimes, you need more than Instagram frames.
Summer’s gone, and so’s its breezy aftermath. We’re now rushing into monsoons that could get so bad that the entire city flooded last year.
This year, it started with untimed rains and unpredicted washouts. When I put my clothes out to dry, I didn’t know it would rain. When I walked into the office, I didn’t know it would start pouring ten minutes later. When I stood on the balcony looking out at the darkening sky, I didn’t know I’d have to wade in through puddles to reach home later in the evening.
I didn’t know I had walk past polyethene bags ingrained in wet soil, worms creeping over stones, and dogs shaking their manes, drenching me in the process.
I didn’t expect to get my pants splashed with mud and my just-washed hair getting another involuntary wash.
I didn’t want to be the only person in our building to come home to soggy clothes after all day at work. Or the one that washed her shoes every day because they drowned in pools of rainwater.
I didn’t ask for the monsoon to make me miserable. I didn’t want my sunshine to cower behind clouds, unable to push them away.
But when I walked towards my office today, I saw the sun trying. Reigning clouds veiled her, yet she shone —- weak, but steady. And I smiled. It doesn’t matter how lousy the monsoon makes me feel. If the sun can get through it, so can I.
The Chaos Within 