The Rain Game

The drop of water
pitbulled into its neighbour
driving it down the sides
of the window pane
in a wicked curveball.

Everywhere a Desert

I watched the particles of sand do a sizzling number with the air molecules. The desertscape with its delicate sand pleated furrows does look pretty poetic as long as you are on the right side of man's invention called air conditioning, I thought to myself. Having spent quite a few days working in the unforgiving glare of the bare sun, making shifty tents on sand dunes and tasting the sand between my teeth, I knew exactly what the desert was capable of. Driving back from the remote deserts to the palm tree lined civilization, I was surprised at the number of vehicles that passed me, carrying yachts of varying sizes, sand mobiles and fancy cars. It didn't quite go with my mental image of a lounging sheikh near an oasis being fed grapes by a bevy of arabian beauties.

As I neared Dubai, I went to meet the friend's friend, as someone from a BMW convertible waved. Thinking that this was rather inappropriate friendly behaviour especially for the middle east, I looked agog at my friend who was now waving back in enthusiasm. This was when realisation dawned. I was getting the opportunity of a lifetime to meet the elusive persona of a clan that is merely seen floating in hushed white importance in the arab emirates. I was getting to meet, ladies and gentlemen, the real Sheikh.

Respectfully, I entered Ali's (ahem, name changed to protect identity - his and mine ) car as we drove off in style into the heartlands of Dubai. We drove past some rather impressive sounding buildings, actually. The world's largest shopping mall next to the world's tallest tower overlooking the world's most expensive hotel - you get my drift. I quite liked the way the psychedelic colors of the city zipped past me, trying to catch up with a furiously fast car. And as dusk was setting, the city was looking downright glamorous, in a glittering Bianca Castafiore kind of way. The car suddenly stopped and I woke up from my reverie to find that we were in front of a Ferrari showroom. Too much was happening too fast and my mind couldn't really keep up with my environmental changes. I looked questioningly at Ali who asked us politely if we minded if he stopped by the showroom to just check on an order he had previously placed. I quietly walked in respectful silence into a room full of Ferraris raring to vroom, when Ali decides to ask my opinion on something. Which shade of grey would look better for the fiber coat on his Ferrari, he asks. A grey Ferrari? You must be kidding me , I think. But cheerfully point at one while returning a sad shake of head to the red headed four wheeler next to me.

We then head to his penthouse for dinner. And behind his house, instead of a car park, there is a yacht park facing the marina. A very handsome yacht, a Riva , to be more exact glides by as I sit by the waters. I have no interest in joining the conversation of oil stocks, Iran or the prices of Dubai real estate that happens around me. I look at these people sitting on their low marble stools on one side. And the sea, the stars and the horizon beyond on the other.

At that moment, I realise that I have never been more proud, of simply being me.

Mad dogs and Finnish men

' Would you wear a seatbelt when you drive off a cliff?' was the first sentence that I heard on my way to Finland. And it came from the eighteen year old sitting next to me on the flight. I must admit, as an afterthought, that this would be a rather good pickup line. If you are looking for a borderline insane girl that is. My reply was the old ' one-eyebrow raise, are-you-serious?' look to him while frantically trying to tap an sos to my friend sitting behind. Before my friend could gather his shining armour, however, TalkativeTeen told me that he was referring to some guy's daredevil accomplishments that I was reading about in my inflight magazine. Looking down, I realized that my thumb was infact on a picture of a certain Chris guy trying to drive off a cliff and then in the next picture, he was smiling balmily at the camera about how he was so clever and unhurt. With a sheepish 'Oh' , we continued a much tamer conversation about Finland's music schools.

Landing in Helsinki at night, I thought that the airport was rather sparse. And so was the city. In a quiet, no-nonsense way. Went for a quiet walk by the pier which was also mildly lit and one thing that struck me was the awesome brightness of the stars due to the lack of light pollution.

Morning dawned with the crispness of a newly baked cookie straight out of the oven. We walked along the pier with the seagulls flitting by, and the sun shining crazily on the diamond blue water.

A street market was slowly being assembled nearby and we sat alongside the waters with double scoops of caramel icecreams, watching little boats huffing and puffing to overtake the bigger ones. Walked along the market and the unusual thing about this place was that the things that they were selling denoted a simpler age - wooden toys, stone earrings and coat hangers made from reindeer horns. In the middle there was also a snack shop that was purely peddling green peas. And there were families huddled around tables having merry pea-pod breaking sessions! Watching this rather heartwarming scene, I was smiling to myself in the realisation of why I had fallen in love with travel in the first place.

............To be continued

Black Mirror

The white disc spins
In watery turmoil
As the calm reality
Watches serenely from the sky.

Silent Rhythms

In the rhythm of a pumping auto-rickshaw engine,
Like the fresh spray of a waterfall,
Like the angelic mist that covers a deep precipice,
A heartbeat.

Terrestrial

The sun peeped from behind the soft curves of a sleeping lady giant. And I watched with a little flutter of exhilaration as my ship anchored near the shores of Sanya. I couldn't help thinking - what a beautiful name! Sanya. Befitting the view of slender clouds covering misty mountains floating amidst coral green waters. A slight drizzle and a soft wind blew a suede brown butterfly towards me which whispered something in my ear . Some mysterious chinese whispers.

Home Video

The dust on the road was sprayed on the bus like a thin layer of turmeric powder. I had got into the bus just for old times sakes and was looking out of my perch at a window at the passing scenery with open curiosity. It has been ten years since I had taken this route and as expected, things had changed along this road that reached to the inner villages of Tamil Nadu. As the public transport bus wheezed to a halt in a bus depot at Vizhipuram, I realized that it was bustling with activity unlike the last time I was there. Young kids were selling peeled jack fruit pieces in tiny plastic covers by the dozen through the window. There was a pharmacy at a distance displaying colorful packs of sanitary napkins in the glass display. A jeep stopped nearby from which brown goats hopped out, like spilling coffee beans. Flower sellers, carrying bamboo saucers of white, yellow and red did their rounds around the bus and were frequently stopped by young men who bought them for their lady sitting in the resin seat next to them. The entire place was like a living, thriving organism where each constituent performed its bodily function.

I remember ten years back, when this very spot consisted of a single tea stall and a dilapidated shed that functioned as a bus stop and a cow shed rolled into one. As the bus drivers were on strike, there were very few buses plying into the city and I had waited along with the grandfather on one of the wooden stools outside the tea stall for something like four hours. The night had been warm and clear, with the sky filled with a smattering of stars that I have recently begun to associate only with my deep, dark ocean. The tea stall had been open well into the night, lighted by a single, slender bulb that attracted the inspection of curious insects. The waiting passengers, mostly farmers from the village and their children had been singing to while away the time, while me, in my 'city' clothes sat quietly listening in to their laughter and conversation. Sometimes, I do yearn for those simpler times.

Coming back to the present. A five hour bus ride and a wake-up later, I was in the city of Chennai, sipping a caffe latte with a few friends in one of the fashionable coffee joints that offered wireless Internet. A few college students sat in the table nearby, discussing animatedly about how Star Trek was still hip. The boys were dressed in baggy, waist level pants and the girls in jeans and singlets. A few Canadians sat in the next table with a Lonely Planet in their midst and passing around a camera looking at just clicked pictures. For a minute, I thought that this scene looked vaguely familiar - I could have been sitting at the Hard Rock Cafe in Melbourne, Singapore or Rio and the scene would have been pretty much the same. Youngsters in Madonna T shirts, a few girls having a good time , some tourists and a laughing bunch of friends. The realisation, I must sheepishly admit, made me feel proud.

This narrative has no concluding passage as to the moral of the story. But I can say that I am curious to see how that bus depot in Vizhipuram will turn out ten years from now.