I am off to Wales tomorrow.
Swansea Bay, glistening in the sun, awaits.

The Road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began,
Now far ahead the Road has gone-
And i must follow, if i can.

Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many path and errands meet-
And whither then? I cannot say.

JRR Tolkien

Lately, i have been having two recurring thoughts.

It is important to have an end to journey towards,
But it is the journey that's important, in the end.

A man travels the world in search of what he needs,
and then returns home to find it.

Nuff Said.

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
and I'm the only one and I walk alone

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone...

- Billie Joe Armstrong

Blue Suede Shoes

I felt a hand brush my back pocket. Instinctively I reached for my wallet, making sure it was still there before turning around to see who the hand belonged to. As it turned out, it was a little boy trying to get my attention, reaching for my pocket only because that was as high as his little hands could go. He was dressed in full-length pyjamas that made him look younger than he might actually have been. The little bag that hung on his shoulder contained a shoe brush and tins of polish in assorted colors.

"Bhaiya jootein polish karoon?" I smiled, began to explain that polishing blue suede might not be the best idea, and then stopped mid-way to pull out a 10 rupee note and hand it to him. He smiled back - a wide boy-smile - and accepted gratefully, but did not disappear. Instead, he offered me a suggestion: "Dho leta hoon na bhaiya, paani se. Ekdum naiye jaise lagenge" (I will wash them with water, they'll be good as new) Once again, I declined his offer. Finally, in a voice so sincere that I almost choked, he said: "Please dho leta hoon na bhaiya, nahi to bheek ho jayega." (please let me wash them, otherwise you'll be giving me alms.") Lessons in dignity and perseverance from a six year old. Right at that moment, I wanted to hug him.

"Bheek nahi hain, thofa hain" was all I could manage. It was a gift, and he should accept it. He smiled his boy-smile again, much wider this time. "Phir to theek hoga", he said. "Thank you bhaiya", and he was gone, shuffling along with his bag and his brush and his tins of polish.

Theek Hoga. Everything will be ok.

Intimations of Mortality

In the last one week, I've watched a cat being mauled to death, a dog being run over by a car, and a college professor being beaten by his own students till he eventually died of a cardiac arrest, the last one on live television. I had no connection with the cat, the dog, or indeed the professor. And yet, in all three cases I was left with a gnawing pain, somewhere between the heart and the rib cage. Helplessnes, rage, sadness, all rolled into a ball. Imagine how God must feel.

Tomorrow I am going to write about something happy.
IamIamIamIam.

Promise.