Semester got over. Got good grades and cleared it. Feels good. Relaxed for the next 20 days. Feels like going on a biking trip with friends to the mountains. They are where I belong to. Ruskin said," Once you have been to the mountains, you belong to them and you must return to them again."

Thrill

My Honda just covered 1000 kilometers. And now I could pull the throttle as much as possible because the engine has gone through its 'running in' phase. During the phase, I was instructed not to ride above 50km/h mark. And now that the phase is done,it feels smoother even.
Saturday evening, we normally go to Nagaland House to gorge on some pork stuff. Three guys had already reach there and were waiting for us, calling up again and again. And here, my pillion was all busy with this architect(an alumnus). More than 10 km to cover, that too in Delhi traffic.
I got damn angry after having waited already long , but somehow managed to persuade the architect to come discuss the design after an hour or two. And got this dude sit on my elevated rear seat. Still with an off mood, we pulled off on the machine.
Slowly, I felt a smile was slipping off me. A mean grin. Why? Speeding off in between the narrow spaces amidst the cars, twisting and turning, churning ourselves ahead in this traffic, my pillion was getting all frozen with fright, with an occasional outburst of abuses. Was that a revenge for making me wait? I guess so.
Meaner still, on long oneways, I could see my speedo pull on gradually...30..40..50..60..70..80..90..100 km/h...vrooommmmmm......and my pillion would go," O madarchod!!!!" and....screeeechhh.....a sudden brake....and we'd start off from 20 km/h again.
Thrill!!! I could feel the adrenaline rush. Fortunately, we reached exactly before the guys started off with the food....my beloved pork.
I realized I was all smiling and my pillion sweating...in Delhi winter. Where the hell did the stupid anger go? Who cared. The feel good hormones had overtaken them now.

The Audience

As I picked up my guitar and started plucking the strings tuning them up, I got this very interesting visitor, A brown-breasted mynah looking at me like a wise old musician. With its curious yellow goggled eyes, it just sat on my window sill. Unfortunately, my window jaali was closed, so it could not come in.

At this morning hour, when I was in a real sweet mood to hum out some melodies, I was glad that I had this new curious audience. So I thought I'd dedicate the song to the mynah,who,leaving all his business had the time in the world to listen to me. Since he was an Indian, I thought I'd sing a Hindi melody for him.

As I started strumming along, it hopped up to the window frame and looked down at me with curious eyes twisting its head now and then as if he was a real music connoisseur. As I sing this old melody, he appeared to be totally attentive to my voice, the movement of my fingers and the sound the strings produced.

My song finally got over. But as I was going to sing another one, my audience just left without a warning. Maybe he didn't like it. I presume he was a real busy mynah who got back to his business. But I am glad that atleast he sat throughout my first song. And I take it as an honour to me.

A Touch Of Eternity

I just happened to take a look through my journal and I came over this piece of simple writing. I even forgot that I had ever written that.

"06:06 pm
Friday

It showered today. The air is moist and cool. First time in Delhi when I could feel the weather. Otherwise,it's extreme here.

I open my window and the cool scented breeze blows in touching my face. The earth smells sweet, wet with rain. It drizzles still.

My mind flies back to my days back home when I was a kid; free, happy and content. On such days, I long for them again.

The first touch of spring breeze is here. Yellow-green foliage bud freshly out of the trees around. They promise me of life and eternity.

Beauty is eternal. Only you and I die.

I need to "feel" it to write about something. It's been long since I wrote a thing. Does it mean I don't feel anymore? I wonder....

Backhome

It rained for quite sometime before I took the road. The wet road and the earth smells so sweet. The moist occasional breeze touch me all over frequently. It seems to tell me to be with it and feel it. The lofty mountains seem alive with their lush greenery. The spirit of the forest rejuvenates me again like it did always. The road I am on seems to lead me to everywhere from where I stand right now. The Laburnum trees that line the road have bejeweled themselves with clusters of intoxicating yellow blossoms. They will soon give way to long slender pods where birds of all kinds will come flocking around. The Gulmohar trees are also rich with their clusters of red flowers. They are simply irresistible.
During the night, the Temple tree (Plumeria Rubra) that are seen in profusion spread their sweet fragrance all around. It's sweetness seems intensified by the rain droplets. Then I come across a heap of pale white blossoms fallen on the ground. The aura around the tree is mesmerizing. They say it's a "Raat-ki-rani". The tree flowers tiny white blooms that are so redolent that moth and different kinds of insects fleet around it even during the night. Its redolence spreads far and wide. I can sense it till I reach home, till I ascend my bed and till I close my eyes peacefully. But I simply can't seem to fall asleep.

The Way Uphill

The drongos glid past me,
The forked-tails a-twinkle,
The rooster head shone,
The velvet feathers unwrinkle.

The mountain path twisted solely,
Up amidst the Orange blooms,
Smelling heart-throbbing sweet,
My soul still there looms.

In The Heights Of Delhi Heat

When I am stuck in the traffic,with the freaky hot sun burning the noon up,the unbearably hot winds just make it impossible to breathe. I curse the heat like everyone else. I reach my room. Still hot. The bed is hot, the table is hot, my clothes in the cupboard are hot...oh my God!!!! what the hell is this. I lie on my hot bed looking up. The lizard on the wall is also wriggling around. Maybe it's cursing the heat to. I presume.
But then suddenly I recall the skinny infant that was just lying out on the pavement under a rickety umbrella that's almost torn up. I could count almost all his ribs and see him shudder in the heat. Her mother is a labourer. She is laying the bricks out on the pavement with a shovel on her hand. She is burnt black in the pitiless sun. How are they managing out there,the infant specially? Am I not far better off than them?
My complaining mind suddenly calms down and I find my room extremely comfortable. The bed, the mattress,the clothes, everything seems to have cooled down. I lie on the bed with utmost comfort under the fan and fall asleep. And I forget the frail infant and her mother.

Delhi Days

The Country's capital. It really stands upto its name. "Dil waalon ki dilli",they say. You have to have the 'heart' to survive here amidst the overflowing outcry of abuses and ruffianly attitude of the commoners. You either become one of them or you get alienated. So you become one of them finally. You speak a sentence of five words where three of them would be 'Gaalis' or abuses. Following are a few excerpts from 'cool' delhi life,
A young man climbs up the bus with his younger brother of about 10 years.
An acquaintance," Kahan jaa rahe ho yaar Chotu ko leke?"
Young man," Arey yaar, is behenchod ka school admission karana hai."

A mother with her son of about 8 years walks down the pavement along Connaught Place. A man accidentally bumps into them. He utters a few words of apology and leaves.
Mother to her son," Behenchod bol, behenchod bol usko."

Wow, Moms and bros are imparting excellent values to the kids. Survival of the fittest?