Digging for Meaning

30 its just a matter of a few years. and there I will be. under the glorious arches of 30-hood.  30 The number shines brightly in my head. Its a milestone that constantly barges into my vision, wherever i may be looking. i imagine it to be a small leprechaun like creature that's running around in 2 concentric circles. One around my head - the constant running threatens to add creases on my forehead. and the other around my waist, where the constant running is adding to the roundness of my person.  30  it constantly asks me to look back. 'Look back!' it screams. and then it tries to hold steady my gaze back into my past. Its a direction I have not frequently lingered on. The opposite direction was much more alluring in the past, and now I live content being in the present. But 30 makes me want to take stock of what i was set out for, and what grounds I have covered. I have never been good with appraisal, and this one will be the toughest. (I am happy with my lif

heat. heat  is everywhere. the skin burns and eyes cower... With every breath of the sun, the curtains beg to be taken further inside the room. They flare and spread themselves in appeal. But then swiftly the relatively cooler winds of the home, throw them back to their guarding positions - the in between world of negotiations. the world between the hospitable world of inside and the savage world of outside. and yet, the heat is everywhere. The little home is not crowded. and yet, it seems as if books are shaking and pushing away the neighboring books. The used clothes lying carelessly on the spare bed are un-crumpling themselves and spreading themselves to cool off. Heap over heap of clothes to be washed. Books upon books, that are yet to be read. The heat is evaporating the will to engage with challenging thoughts and acts. These days, the sour, dour magazines are going straight to a corner of the room that has no future. The corner is a mini black hole of significance. th

[This is a  ridiculous  story] Imagine. It was your usual Sunday afternoon. 1:49 to be precise . (why should you be precise? its a sunday! sacrilege.) It was my usual Sunday morning. The tea was on boil and i was browsing habitually through the multiple tabs open on my firefox browser. and as is the case with multiple tabs, none was interesting enough to hold me, but they formed a continuum, a circle of curiosity swimming in circles around my mind, and i couldn't break that circle. so i kept on surfing. switching the tabs. scrolling down and then up. then switching to the next tab. clicking on one link or another. then with impatience switching to next pane... furious and numb, simultaneously.  psssss.... the tea was boiling over, overflowing onto the hot plate. I threw my keyboard sideways and jumped into my kitchen. I was about to take the tea pot off the plate, when a bird exploded merely 3 metres from me outside of kitchen window. Poof. no sound. no smoke. just a lot o