Great changes await
the one that wills to endure
the chaos within
Tag: favourites
Pondicherry, Unmatched
There’s nothing quite like it: Standing on the sandy shores, sipping warm comfort, and staring at foamy waters crashing into rocks.
And that’s how I remember the city of Pondicherry. With her manicured streets, fresh-brewed coffee, and a view that demands attention, the city it still one of my all time favourites.
The beach played a major role, of course, but so did the no-vehicles policy. Every evening, the police ensure that no vehicles enter the beach road. That time’s for the tourists to walk along the beach, get a cup of cocoa, or a bite of corn, and retreat to a fancy restaurant for dinner.
The entire area is built and managed in favour of the visitors. No wonder people love it there. Plus, it helps a lot that Pondicherry is a French colony. The street we stayed in — the Beach road — and a neighbouring streets were all so well furnished.
I stood in the street looking up at the looming concrete. They were unlike any other building I had seen, and it was obvious the government wants to please their tourists.
The infamous Aurobindo ashram is a huge attraction as well. So many Europeans have made the ashram their life, and the city their home. Even the shopping sites in the city seem to favour the their tastes. Wool, cotton, linen, and hand-loomed — it was such a pretty display of material and colours.
Oh, and the food. Since it’s a coastal city, there’s no short of fish, and all things sea food. And, the city’s a bit relaxed in alcohol rules. With the best of both worlds, most restaurants serve alcoholic drinks throughout the day — something the south of India never approves.
Pondicherry welcomes modernity in moderation. From where I come, however, people frown even at the idea of drinking in social conditions. It’s sad that folks sometimes look at the city as a bachelor’s haven, a place of mischief and misconduct.
But when I bit into those fish fingers, the sauce tingling my tongue and the steam seeping through my teeth, I stopped caring about what the world says. Pondicherry is a great place. And I’ll never pass an opportunity to go again.
Tea Factor
I’ve spoken far too many times about tea in this blog. I can’t help it, it’s my poison. That, and coffee.
But I don’t cherish just the cuppa in my hand. I admire the entire process of tea estates, from plucking the leaves, and adding pressure to them, to pressing them to extract every essence of goodness. It’s such a sensitive job — to treat every leaf as a drop in someone else’s wake up call.
Morning tea is the most important part of my day. And I don’t believe in portion control. I try to do some reading while I sip my tea, but it never happens. When I sniff my tea, my mind goes blank and only tea matters.
I’ve visited a few tea estates in my life, lived in one of them too. It’s a divine feeling to walk amidst tea leaves at 6 am and get a whiff of the leaves, even months before they’re ready to go in my cup.
The Taste of Freedom
Who can resist perfect strumming? I surrender.
It doesn’t blare; the music doesn’t hurt my ears — even if I’ve turned up the volume to maximum.
What is it about this song? It has no extraordinary opening. Perhaps it’s the crescendo that comes later on— with notes so high and complementing drums.
Or, maybe, it’s the way it changes — no two seconds are same. It rises, and it falls, with unmistakable, yet subtle transitions.
The sound of the music makes me delve within myself, to find that hallow space deep down and do — nothing. It reaches that space just to remind me of its existence.
Every time I replay the song, the tunes scratch the surface of my deepest emotions. It leaves my insides tingling so much that I want to shout, dance, and cry like a maniac — all at the same time. Without looking disturbed myself. Because I don’t feel negative. Just insane peace. Like a slumber in a crisis. Or in the eye of a tornado.
A silence engulfs me just before the ending, and as the final tones die down, the world glares at me again, with its teeth barred.
Same call it escapism. But don’t we all seek art to distract ourselves? To get away from everything — even if only for a while — and enjoy a speck of calm?
I’m most alive when I listen to this song. My mind reels, and even does a tap dance at times. My body lives without my mind’s interference. I feel myself, the real person underneath the messy hair and shabby spectacles.
It’s freedom unlike any other.
Music cuts the leashes that restrain my mind. Once free, I am unaffected even in a throng. I can sit for hours straight caring naught about anything.
I’m above it all. I wonder, I wander.
The Small Picture
We often see only what’s in front of us, and not the big picture. In front of me was a stack of hats.
And the big picture?
A buzz of tourists making their way through scores of street shops, picking souvenirs from the beautiful arsenal of treasure.
The Chaos Within 