red mud

The trees spread out like a fan near the bank of the river. I guess, the river was pretty wide and deep to be called one. Moreover it had lots of water in it considering the good Monsoons that the region experienced this season.

The water took a pale blue colour with a hint of green; while the sky assumed a paler shade of blue, more of white and less of blue. Trees whose green leaves framed the panorama on the sides. Deep brick red earth lined the bottom, while the upper edge led into the sky and the beyond. Who knew what lay there?! For an instant, she thought she was visiting a desolate area where even time was still. Somewhere in the mountains. Not a single blade of grass appeared to wave.

As she walked to the edge of the water, she noticed boulders of black rock, doting the fringe of the water. Removing the footwear that protected her feet, she splashed her feet into the water. And the water was cool. Moving her feet up and down in a not-so-rhythmmic manner, she made tiny droplets of water to fall on the placid surface. Ripples were observed here and there. Some big, some small. Eventually, the water turned red-brown in colour, courtsey; red mud which was typical of the place.

Acknowledging that the water had touched her senses, she walked back to higher ground. Pebbles, pieces of dry grass, fine sand adorned her foot. On sitting down she started cleaning her foot, from ankle down, getting the redness out of her pink feet.

At that instant, she was called for. Softly for the first time, the tone grew stronger as somebody called out to her repeatedly. She searched for that person, amidst the crowd that had gathered on the back of the river. Her friends who sat beside her.

Period.

This dream stopped here, while the next one began.

you rich guys...

Along with the daily Business Standard, we get a monthly(?) called SPEND (i think that's correct). It talks about spending money in a very flamboyant fashion stressing on the latest perfumes from Paris, chic clothes from Milan, bags from New York sold in metros across India.

I used to enjoy leafing through it, glancing at glossy pictures featuring those high-end things. More importantly, i liked the texture of the paper. Thick, dense and smooth, i could sense the space it occupied when a sheet was held inbetween two fingers. It was apt for the rich and famous, far far away from us. Was not even worth dreaming.

Now, i see some people spending money like water. Man never says enough, that's another trait. But, who would want to buy a mobile phone empowered with fancy ribbons of technology for over 20,000/30,000 rupees. My jaws just drop down on me hearing that kind of cash. For a cell phone. One can as well better things with the same amount.

Those attachments does enable one to do many things within a short span of time, but nevertheless printed paper is solid money. At times, i too cringe looking at them, but i stop myself then and there. Yes, i've started yearning for something expensive, but it's not like spending lumpsome amounts on objects that catch my fancy.

Why did it all have to happen? While i pay Rs. 7 for a ticket to travel from Lalbagh West Gate to Corporation, a 5 minute ride on the bus. I always ask this, 'You rich guys, can i be given just 1%-10%? I'll live my life happily henceforth'.

disconnected thoughts

Thoughts can be stringed together or otherwise. I guess, it mainly depends on we see/think at that moment. I've had thoughts coming from the two poles one after another. Totally varied.

When i was atop Mullayana Giri in Chikamagaluru last week, i was reminded of an earlier visit to Jog Falls, in July this year. And also Talakaveri, to which we travelled about five/six years ago. My hand brushed across wet hair, while the other hand rested on a moist pair of jeans. We were on cloud 9 according to my professor. Having witnessed the Malnad in it's pristine greenery and the typical never-ending drizzle of the monsoons, i felt awed. Rain and green. What compliance!

I was working on oils today. After about four long months. Me, being happy, excited goes without saying. Resulting in a nice canvas. Hope i put it up here sometime. That apart, i grumbled that my other oils, those that i started with, and henceforth, are not good. When i look at this, i grimace. Really. I wish M could see what i did today. She would have loved it, i'm sure. This was the first time that i'd worked on canvas.

Temples and me have always been apart. At home, we've had this very different practice of not going to them. We do visit them once in a blue moon, when a puja is organised by somebody in the family. Nevertheless, a puja is performed once in seven days, i guess for it's sake. Or for mother's satisfaction. She has tried to inculcate those habits into me. The process of trying didn't yield anything. In fact, i think that she has begun delineating. Am i that influencing??!! Wow!! I should pat my back. I've had to explain this tendancy to a couple of friends, who were taken aback, some with expressions displayed on their face.

kannada and slang

I was quite amazed to note the difference between the Kannada spoken in Bengaluru and Mysuru. 140 kilometres and a three hour journey can create some variation. I've picked some slang (some is an understatement), much to my mother's chagrin.

She wants me to use those words that i've grown up with. But, the atmosphere is Mysuru makes me use the local words. Me, i've started with slang, like we've known each other for a long time. By slang, i mean the better part of it. To some extent. I make it a point not to use it front of the people at home. You see, i don't want nasty words coming my way.

My friends at Mysuru swear that i learnt Kannada there. (they are exaggerating). At the same time, all my thought processes occur in English. Same as before. It's obviously acceptable to string distinct words into a sentence in English than to bumble something in Kannada. We, people at Bengaluru are accused of neglecting Kannada. That's nothing new, isn't it?