Fun on Panes...

This was one of the days announced as high-tide alert by our weather man.
Anticipating rains, we left the clouds behind on the Vashi bridge..

But they caught up with us @ Powai!

So we had to close the windows.. and it got reaaally stuffy!! :(

But then i realised...1 bus, rains outside, and whacky frends inside are the perfect recipe for a maad journey!! :)
Well...generally we all are pretty audible to the whole bus.. :P right from the driver to the guy who sits at the back..today we let the steam on the glass panes and our fingers running over it do some talking..

and yeah there were giggles and laughter. Well, what do u expect?? We're girls! :) (and THAT doesn't mean anything! :P)

...that one piece in the Collage

The Mumbai local train is a collage of a million different pieces! Men, women, executives, teachers, bankers, stock brokers, managers, students, hawkers, and god knows how many more come together to make this splendid and ever expanding form!

Me - one such piece - was absorbed in observing (talk abt alliteration!!) another - an 8-9 year old boy carrying a polythene bag. About four feet high, dressed in a brown checkered uniform of a Mankhurd school, rubber slippers in his feet, leaning against the opposite partition. The bag he held had just been deposited by his hands with the plastic hangers he had removed about a minute ago to sell. The bag was a decoy lest he got caught. I wondered what time he must have left school to start his task. At 9:10 p.m. he wasn't making any effort to sell his wares, guess his day had ended. He peeked in the General compartment and took his position near the door. I looked at him for quite a while, there was a small scratch on his nose. He looked in the opposite direction of the moving train, maybe figuring out his next class, next sale tactic, his next customer, or maybe soemthing fun with his friends....

I wondered what it would be to be like him. To be eight, go to school, sell things in the train, complete home-work, help around the house, manage money. I don't want to mention the other things I dread. I dint want to imagine where he lived. Child labour in its most vivid form was right there in front of me...and I could not do a thing. I merely looked at him as he alighted at the next station and saw him disappear.

Horcruxes in real...

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince! Its a pity the movie is named the same. There was almost nothing in it of the book...Disappointing is an understatement.

The part of the book I'd liked the most was not there in the movie at all! The story of Tom Riddle's loony mother and muggle-born father. How his father was bewitched by a love potion, and how the family heirloom was taken by Tom Riddle which would later become a Horcrux and contain a part of his soul...

The book has a brilliant yet dark concept. A rare form of magic that allows one to be immortal in parts! For that the being must rip the soul and contain it elsewhere like a locket or a ring. Although things like these come at a cost is what the author tries to tell us. And the price is the life of another. Really how dreadful can a person get to fulfill personal wishes...

I wondered how the author must have thought of such a thing. Must she have seen it in a metaphorical form somewhere? Forms which take away lives for their personal interest. They kill happiness, love, care, joy, oneness, peace. Once dead, they contain their own righteousness, hatred, selfishness, jealousy, anger in these empty shells. And that's how 'no possibility' becomes immortal!

The fact that Harry Potter destroys all those horcruxes is reassuring for a person like me. Because I personally like happy endings. And also gives me the thought that 'no-possibility' needs to be destroyed.... by the very things that were killed by it!

SOAKED!!

4th July ..
It has rained the whole day today. Constant showers from the skies kept everything clean. It was like today i had a heightened sense of color. Everything looked so fresh! There was every type of green i could imagine everywhere.

It was the perfect day for a picnic. Our wishes on Friday for a superb weather on Saturday for our picnic were granted. Sometimes all things don't have to go as planned. Although our visit to a certain waterfall bombed completely, it was a great experience! We reached the cloud-kissed hills that harbored the Pandavkada waterfalls quite early only to find out that its closed in the monsoons due to landslides. :( But our enthusiasm and readiness to try new things didn't die down. We kept walking in the rain and enjoyed every bit of it! Stone-made walls, wired fences, and large puddles of water were enough to bring out the child in each one of us... :) We climbed, splashed water, ran behind each other, cracked reaaaaaaallly pathetic jokes, laughed like mad...basically we went just plain nuts with the weather! ;)

I realized for the first time that i actually like getting wet in the rains..the raindrops touching my face every time i looked up, soaking my hair and trickling down my neck. When the rain caught momentum we were leaving. We were making a mistake leaving the pretty weather to be enjoyed by some other enthusiasts, only to be joined by the rains on the journey towards our friend's house.

Hot black lemon tea, pani puri, samosas, moong dosa, and the all time favorite Maggi kept the gastric juices in our stomachs some company. The picnic ended with some friends bidding an early goodbye and lazy conversations with the rest of us.

Fun, leg-pulling, enthusiasm, innovation, boldness didn't let our resolve to have a good day die. Really, what you plan, the place, doesn't matter as much as the people with who you are. Soaked I am with the rains, and every drop carries fulfillment!

Complicated Gibberish

hgutfj tdyoiy9809867honiut jn j h9pj]pmo rwhhsdoheiohrdoyhewodhrekbdkbkxcbzx
dsakfiauoshdshan .84236497032409 fsdlkjfdsofhesdjfpowejrlk v 1248-29qk's,'df;

.... crack the code..mhuahahahahaha!!!

wat?? well, I had some very complicated and secret thoughts in my head today!!!

The Old Painting...

There's this painting I came across.
It was old, very old, had a tear in the corner..heavy overwriting of strokes at some places, thinning of colors at places, the canvas threads had started to separate..

The painting took time to catch my eye. Because I was overwhelmed by the details I'd just described. I was so lost in taking in every separating thread, every overwritten stroke, every thinning hue, that the picture it formed escaped my eyes..

I never saw that each thread of the canvas gave form to the silhouette of a mother and that of a child held carefully in her arms. Each hue brought life to the young cheek and the loving ripe hand. Each overwritten stroke was a mistake corrected. The colors however thinning still brought out the peace among them, the happiness, the love, the care.
The old oils had still all the elements of a brilliant painting..fine strokes, apt colors, strong canvas...all of them that held on.

But how would I ever know? I never went beyond...