Friday, May 24, 2013

Floral encounters

"I must have flowers, always, and always."

~ Monet

A struggling topography and the most inhospitable weather as it may be for the flourishing of any kind of life, I keep getting pleasantly surprised by these unexpected floral encounters now and then. But yes, one has to look hard, for more often than not, these gorgeous colours get lost in the ugly coming together of construction sites or their polished and inhabited replicas of sky-high apartment buildings. Sometimes these delicate darlings are just overlooked because of the blindingly bright sun, or simply because you are stuck in a traffic jam that for the moment seems eternal and your smartphone is the best distraction you can afford.

Baby pink ixora, or the jungle geranium, one of the many morning finds recently. What better than a fresh summer morning and the sighting of such forlorn beauties while catching your breath between what can be best described as a cross between a jog and a run.

The flamboyant gulmohars, aka the flame tree, one of the summer staples, adorns the lackluster roadsides and most importantly, camouflages some really unsightly buildings. Driving under a stretch of these feisty blooms gives one the impression of riding under a giant ball of flames.

The bougainvilleas and the very ubiquitousness of them. I don't mind them growing here, there, or anywhere, for that is exactly how they appear, after a turn here or a bend there. Spreading their arms and legs in a disheveled frenzy, the speckles of pink, orange and white blossoms lend that elusive color rush to an otherwise dusty and arid facade of the city.

And once again I go back to fretting and wishing, worrying and hoping - if only the rains come on time this year!

Friday, May 17, 2013


"Finding solitude in the concrete jungle is powerful and peaceful."

~ Mike Dolan

Another of those picturesque lavender dusks. A sight so familiar, but still a novelty each time it happens. A bustling Friday traffic roars under the balmy pink-orange spread of the sky. Lights and buildings. Buildings and lights. The city blurs into a distance in my mind and ceases to be. A blissful solitude embraces me quietly. Let the weekend begin!

Thursday, May 9, 2013

May yellow

As May unleashes its fury and the mercury climbs up to a dizzying 46 degree Celsius, the heat and the long wait for the monsoons are all one talks about these days. I, in the meanwhile, am fixated with the colour yellow - it's like everywhere, the quite obvious representative being the malevolent and monstrous ball of fire hanging in the afternoon sky. Though not my most favorite color from the mood-lifting spectrum, I tend to associate yellow with the childhood summer vacations - may be it's something to do with the ubiquitous presence of mangoes and the unrestricted freedom from the shackles of schoolwork. So as the sun continues showering its flames of vengeance, I cannot help but arrange these postcards of different yellows in my head, some vibrant and the others mellow, some seasonal and a few born out of idle musings.

Mangoes, the golden-yellow summer delights! Wherever you look, there they are - heaped in small carts lining the roadsides, dominating the fruits section in supermarkets, pulped and candied in thin, long strips, sliced and spiced in tempting pickle jars, and so on. One wonders if they'd still be such a rage if they weren't seasonal.

The full-of-hopes-yellow cover of A Thousand Splendid Suns, a tale equally, if not more heart-rending than The Kite Runner. It officially stamps me as a Khaled Hosseini fan and coincidentally, the end of May will see the release of his third novel which has already been pre-ordered online.

Yellow trumpet flowers paving the sun-beaten, desolate streets, cheerfully reminding one of the brighter aspects of an Indian summer. One could do well with a leaf or two from their book of resilience and steadfastness.

And finally, my pair of miniature yellow Bavarian clogs, which has stirred the travel bug in me that was lying dormant for a while. Gripped by a major bout of hill nostalgia, I long for a bit of the proverbial mountain air, where colorful prayer flags flutter against a blue, blue sky and the reverberating gong of a monastery makes the hills come alive. Sounds like the perfect daydream to be lost in for a while!

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