Sunday, March 9, 2014

The Melancholy of Spring

Have braved the dark gloom of winters
It is the spring which sends slight chill to the insides.

It wasn't a joy ride crossing mountains in the company of acrophobia
The price of travel is that your only caravan will be the silent howling of wind.

A nice well made pie- conversations which died before they were born.
No regrets. Was in a different river, and was a different person.

Now before the ocean. Need to cross it on  a very frail boat. Have done it before. Even if every thing gets lost in the water, it might be fun. The corny line again" aankhon me hairaniyan leke chalo to pata he ki tum zinda ho"- You know you are alive when you walk with surprise in your eyes.
Ghosts are familiar territory. Have exorcised the biggest albatross around the neck. This should be simpler.

May be is just plain tired- the dark speed of the tube, sad soggy sandwiches and hours counted like grain. More tickets, more unknown territories. This time, isn't the cheeky traveller, is more of a worn out one. It might be nice to rest some where for  a while.

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