.. coz the radio stopped playing her.

What now?

I want to live in a fishing village.

Not coz I particularly like fish, but because I have a tendency to get whimsical on odd numbered days of the week.

If you knock on this guy's desk (the one sitting opposite me), ask him to kindly excuse you and then enquire of his wishful getaway, he would (and I presume here) say- 'Ah, I would like to go somewhere where I dont need to rush. Where the morning air is cold and the brustling of the sea does nt knock my ears off.'

In some weird way, he might be saying what I am thinking. But that would make it weird. Then again.

So.. why fishing villages?

My parents lived in Goa for six years. And in ways not well understood yet, I still live there.

A little village near Panjim, not too far away that a 110 cc moped would not take you, where a stretched pile of sand resides next to retreating waves of saltwater. Dark skinned men walk in and out of this water everyday, with long nets rolled up on their shoulders bearing the day's labour. Little kids sometimes run next to these slumped men making strange noises. I donno why.

Salt stained boats are parked along Sam D#souza's shack where you get rice with fish curry for eighteen rupees. You could sit on the porch, as Mr.Dsouza would dust the sand off the cushion. You could also put your feet up on the railing, if you like.

Sit.
Stare.
Breathe.
Stare.

It is said, people have, in the past found peace here. A distinct sense of surreptitious serenity would visit you, they said, if you look at the sun long enough.. and hard enough. Amused at finally finding yourself, you would even consider holding some grained earth in your palm.

At some point, when the sun settles down in the sea, you walk back to where you came from. Like always. Only, you'd have sand between your toes now.

Such brazen romanticism, only a genially disposed man could believe.

Anyway, I think I should go home now. And learn to cook fish.

Completely, totally, utterly and absolutely BEWARSE today

I did not want to do something terribly useful today, for that would be a sinfully damned act on a beautiful day like today. Instead, I spent the entire day walking on the grass without my shoes on and now wish to write about something visually intermittent yet tremendously categorical in this state of conspicuous bliss.

As that could be a hard thing to do, let's settle for this,

1. I search Youtube.com for a good video.
2. Embed it on the blog.
3. Watch it a million times before I say 'haikarambaa, let's get a life'.

Kapish?



This is the best movie ever made, and I say this with the immediate passion and zeal of that kid who spammed IMDB with votes for Harry Potter.

Spain

The streets. Colour. Gaudi. God. Music in the subways. Pat on the arm. Graffiti. Girl reading James Redfield. Jesus Superstar. Los friggin Blancos!! Man from the bookstore. Flamenco. Burgos. Maria Alvarez. Mirande de Ebro. Mark Isham. Like the boy looking outta the window. Empty plains. Unruly stone walls. Red roofs. White shrubs. Man who showed Mount Urgull. Costa Vasca. Igeldo. Bus no.16. Irish Modern Art Museum. Buses showing iPod commercials. Montaditoes. La Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciencias. Cafe de la Concha. Morcilla Odolkia. Irun. Hendaya. Woman at the ticket counter. The streets.

Till I find time to sit down and write an actual post, some pictures (they are still being updated).

Would you like some Janis Joplin today? No!!?

Then look.

A cat by my window!!

P.S. I feel particularly silly today.

And..

.. a happy new year to you!!



Note to Partha: Dude, look, LOOK, LOOK!! I cooked!! Chickaan!! (Err, that is picture number 2 from left, whilst it was still being cooked..)