It's raining in Delhi today. I'm lying very still in my bed. I've sprained my neck, the result of a fall a couple of days ago, and any movement is painful. Panda is keeping me company. He nibbled on my sleeve for a while, but now he's curled up under the bed. I reach down to pat him every time the thunder gets particularly loud. 
I can hear the rain and smell it. The lightning flashes illuminate my room, eerily. Otherwise, it is as dark as night. I tried turning on the light earlier, but turned it off quickly. It felt harsh and blue and intrusive. This darkness is better, if a little frightening. How quickly the clouds change day to night. 

I tried listening to music, but even Zila Khan sounded strained, singing as she did, over the rain. I didn't bother queuing up another song after she lapsed into silence.

I made a sandwich for us earlier. Honey and cheese, toasted and melty. I cut it in squares, and we ate it piece by piece. Afterward, we had coffee, strong and black. I drank that all by myself, because Panda didn't seem to appreciate it. 

It's nice, staying at home on a rainy day, even if it hurts to nod. 

Images

I’m confused, reader. I feel a little like a hamster running on a wheel, just because it’s there. There are so many things I wish I could do, so many things I want to do… Picking one and sticking with it seems so scary. I settle for creative inertia instead, but now even that is grating on my nerves.

I took a long walk with Panda on Sunday morning, and tried to think. It didn’t help that Panda kept enacting different versions of this scenario.

(I'll credit this as soon as Ken tells me where he got it from. It was too good not to share.)

It had rained the previous night, and I was constantly distracted by scenes such as this.

Panda ran in mad circles about the lawn while I photographed mushrooms.

And I went back inside after my walk, as confused as I’d been before, but curiously comforted. 

I've come here with no plan of what to say, just that I need to talk. The past couple of weeks have been... intense. I've been working unusually hard, sleeping less, thinking rather more than is my wont, and the strain is telling. I don't want a break, no. I'm enjoying what I'm doing and really, just want more of the same. I'm young and energetic and am finally, somewhat, coming in to my own. As I discussed with R, (who I've shamefully neglected for so long, I doubt I can even ask for forgiveness any more) I have a list of things I've always dreamt of doing. Now, I finally have the chance to pick up that list, dust off the cobwebs that've collected on its surface, and begin ticking things off.
I've begun the process, Reader, and it is both scary and exhilarating. But, as I'm also slowly discovering, I really can do all the things on that list. I need to break them down into component steps and evolve a plan of action, but really, five years of solving numericals make that part a piece of cake. As for the rest, I've taken a deep breath and plunged in. This is just me surfacing for air.

Fairy dust

Life is very interesting, isn't it, Reader? There's so much to see and do, that some days, sleep seems like a waste of time. I've done only the most mundane of things today. Walked the dog, gone to work, laughed with friends, read, cooked... But somehow, of late, it's like a handful of pixie dust has been flung into the mix, giving each activity a particular charm.

Foolish me. I didn't believe in fairies. 

It doesn't take much

Ah Reader, it's June and it is summer. The Amalta tree in our garden is blooming in an explosion of colour. Each day, the tree sheds a blanket of yellow flowers on the grass below, as if it knows that the green of the lawn sets off the flowers to perfection.

This morning, the wind lifted the flowers in the air and churned them in a mad dance, while one excited little dog chased after them. I watched and laughed till my sides ached. Each morning, after our walk, Panda and I play a game of catch in the lawn. I toss his yellow ring for him (A super-thoughtful present from G. It's still going strong now, months later) and he chases after it. Then, once he has it in his possession, he dodges nimbly around me, while I lunge and pant, trying to catch him. When I finally do, I retrieve the ring and throw it again.

At one point, he tires of it and collapses on the lawn, panting.

Today, I sat down next to him and watched the wind dance flowers across the lawn.

It's another of those nights, Reader. I have a to-do list before me, and long, uninterrupted night ahead. The dog kept me company for a while. Inspired by some rather questionable music, I picked him up and danced him around the room. As soon as I put him down, he retreated in disgust.
The LED marked "internet" on my modem is blinking frantically at me. It is the only movement around. The night is still and windless. I've already read all my favourite blogs, caught up on the news, abandoned a very soppy romance novel in disgust, and yes, danced with the dog. It's time to get to work, and yet, I find myself reluctant to begin.
I'm in a curious mood. I know what I need to do, but the doing is so hard. I wish I could throw prudence and caution and good sense to the winds, and march on, singing a song about following my dreams. I wish I could be spontaneous and passionate and unthinking of consequences. I'm tired of this, Reader... Of falling and getting up and dusting my knees and starting again. I want to sit in the mud for a while and have a good cry.
Then, I'll come back here, and sit down again, and work till dawn.

Snapshots of Chennai

I've been back from Chennai for almost two months now, and flipping through the images in my camera, I find plenty that I planned to share with you, but never did. So, quickly now, here goes:

I used to walk to Elliot's beach every weekend morning and run along the water. The stray dogs would be out at the time, sniffing through the leftovers of the previous night's revelry. When the tide comes in, all the footprints are washed away.

After my run, I would fortify myself with filter coffee at Murugan Idli, before the long walk back.

One weekend, I woke up at 4 am and went on a 48 km cycle ride with fifty other people, from Chennai to Mamallapuram. We watched the sun rise along the way.

It was about 7 am at this point and the day promised to be a scorcher.

At around kilometer number 39, I saw this lotus point on the opposite side of the road. After I parked my cycle on the left, it took me about five minutes to limp across the 15 foot road, to take this picture. I really ought to cycle more.

She was very nice about letting me take her picture. I, on the other hand, felt awfully touristy.

Kolams to decorate the house before the Savitri pooja. It's a festival when unmarried women and girls pray for the well-being of their future husbands... Or something like that... I was too busy giggling with my cousins to pay attention.

Ah, T Nagar. I could've spent a lot more time there. The shopping was lovely, the food good, and the sights, occasionally outrageous.

The evening before I left, we went to Elliot's beach again, ate chaat, south Indian style, and left our own footprints for the tide to wash away.

Oh and, I also had my fortune told. According to this lady, my future's pretty grim.