Do you have the time?

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the 'right' reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go. She didn't ask anyone for advice .She didn't read a book on how to let go. She didn't search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all the memories that held her back. She let go of all the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right. She didn't promise to let go. She didn't journal about it. She didn't write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad int he paper. She didn't check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go. She didn't analyze whether she should let go. She didn't call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn't do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn't call the prayer line. She didn't utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Life a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go. There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.

~Safire Rose

Addickt

The only remotely descriptive travel post I have ever written

Thing is, deciding on the spur of the moment to just take off, I didn’t really know what to expect out of this. Although I’ve spend 4/5ths of my life in the north-east, these hills completely bewitched me, blissfully carrying me off into clouds made out of some serious insight. The grace of the place is difficult to explain, so is the enormous freshness that it exudes. I filled up my ashtray lungs with the sweet air as much as I could but it really wasn’t enough. I even lost to urge to smoke, the altitude just taking me higher and higher, at each wind of eerie mountain road, greenery even more prettier than the last, little fascinating things even more pristine than the last, the air even colder than the last breath, and the tip of my nose almost freezing in delight! My legs ached so much throughout (I am not used to walking so much in a day!), uphill and the tougher downhill, but I just wanted to go on and on, at my sweet pace, reach the point where I am higher than everything else in the world, above everything else, above the life that I know, head among the clouds, mind at flight.

So here I am, documenting a journey sitting back at my desk at work, picking out the pictures that best tell my story. I was charmed, so enchanted and happy. I don’t usually put up any pictures or write about any occurrences that really impact me, but see, now I want to!

Excuse shaky picture quality. Excuse badly composed photographs. Or just excuse me.

So here we are waiting for the bus outside ‘Parveen Travels’, Pondy. Nothing too ground-breaking- just documentation 101.

Here, we stop at around five in the morning, none of us wanted any chai so we just sat about smoking, and already the place started to remind me of Meghalaya/Upper Assam. 

 

Here, we begin the ascent towards Kodai. Pictures taken out of the bus window. I am too excited to go back to sleep. 

We reach at 8.30 a.m. Kodai town is tiny and clean! Much like old-Shillong. We eat awesome hot puris for breakfast before heading off to Vattekanal- which is higher up than Kodai.

We start walking up hill. It’s a wrong road that we have taken and will take us 2 hours to reach there but at this point I don’t care. See why. These are some pictures I randomly took here and there. 
 

This is when shit got serious for me. I was hell bent on being one-of-the-hills, acting a bit eerie, not talking much, just out of wind and thrashing my head all ways to cram in as much beauty as I could. And we kept on climbing.   

Reached Vattekanal and Jacob’s (name changed for privacy!) Cottage. And we had successfully captured the only remaining little wooden cottage, dim, cosy, complete with awesome blankets, dining table, lots of windows, crazy art pieces, paintings, and a fireplace. Me started clicking pictures before we messed it up with our luggage.
 

The mist had a mind of it's own, circling down on us from time to time.

We opened up the Old Cask and smokes and later went to down to town with our heads swimming (took us another hour and half to walk).   
 

On way, arguments and revelations broke out. Joe and I came across this gorgeous hill doggy and were convinced that the mystery dog had appeared only for us. Friendliest thing, he gave us the saddest look when we walked on. I swear he was too big to carry back with me.

Doggy performs 'sad'

The town was peaceful as ever and we kept lounging by the lake, around the lake, up and down the markets, and then took a cab back to quite a cheerful night at the cottage a la Vatte. 

Ah, next blissful, ice-cold morning. There is always an Altaf at these awesome places. Ate some Israeli food for breakfast and played with the doggies there. 

Jackie snoozes

 

 Then, for Magica showtime, we headed back to the cottages, this time at the one even further up. Time to put on our 3D glasses, and when the view was like this, what can I say. It was an explosion of happy.

The mist kept swirling in like a band of galloping horses. The plants and trees became our friends, bright, dancing, talking. Shapes, patterns, people, thoughts, colours, sounds, laughter. Irresistable.

Later we went to get some thing to eat down to the tea shop and got caught in a thunderstorm. The mist encircles us and the rain thrashed. Hailstones! We ate a plate of hot maggi (sheesh-instant noodles stalk me), bought some supplies and headed back to the cottage once the rain slowed. It rained the entire night! The electricity went zap, it was now pitch dark everywhere and wrapped up in warm blankets, we zzzzzzzz………

Last day came too quick. 

The Goodmorning Boys :)

The truth has a way of pouncing out on its own.

Potluck cafe fed us well.

Colours at Potluck!

I allow one lousy picture per journey.

Good lord. I die of cuteness.

Camelephant in the house!

To walk is to seek

Freshness of this kind is a slap on the face of a city slacker. Look at what we miss.

Back at the cottage- Old monk, hot cup noodles, Win cigarettes, rain outside and good company. Bliss!

Bootlegging atop the town football field. Glowing lights of the market opposite.

And then we almost missed the bus. Finally caught it and were out like lights in no time. Kodai is definitely worth another trip, another supply of lungful happiness, another round of purification of mind and soul. 

Cheery weekend

:)

The simplicity of it all

It's easy to cook yourself a meal,

dust your tables, wipe some spoons.

Easy to go through all your music folders,

looking for the evening's perfect song,

missing a few phone calls here and there.

Easy to empty out the ashtray, flick off the lights,

check the locks, sleep.

Easy to greet new friends,
and snap off yesterday's liasons,
Easy to be chased for approval,
easier to smile, seem nice.

Easy to text a smiley in return,

an investment in friendship or more, surely.

It's easy to acknowledge flirtatious handshakes,

judge tastes in music, cigarettes.

Easy to lower your standards,

accept the evening's obscure ending.

Easy to tuck a stray behind your ear,

adjust your shirt, prop your elbows on the table,

take a big, brave swig and smile.

Easy to be above public opinion,

headstrong, righteous, impetuous. 

Easy to be so publicly private, discerning,

vehemently swearing by solitude.

Easier not to delve into the fine print

of someone else's emotional crap shit,

unless it's is juicier than expected.  

Easy to appreciate the present companion,

recognize puppy-pleas,

screaming, kicking, pounding baits for attention.

Easy to recognize disappointment and darting envy,

private signals, syncing of wavelength, strengthening of intention.

Easy to climb into your bed, turn over, play dead.

Happy that it is so fucking easy. 

50 ways to leave your lover

On a green grass-covered hill, there is a house. The house is owned by Mr. Swash, who lives alone ever since his wife passed away 14 years ago. Mr. Swash is a collector of all things. A broken toothpick holder, a cashmere napkin, model airplanes, holiday souvenirs, old cameras that don't work, and who knows what other curios decorate his shelves. He likes things that look like they have a personality to them, that have a story to tell, that come from somewhere and someone close or very far away, in another strange realm.

At night, before he goes to sleep, he drinks a cup of sweet brandy tea. It is usually a bitter cold outside and he pulls up his woolen socks before he climbs into bed. His bed is a hay loft in his attic and Mr. Swash is a sound sleeper. Every night while he sleeps, his curios come alive. The model fire-engine goes woot-woot in iterating circles. The toothpick holder picks a fight with the wristwatch. The hamburger fridge-magnet from Austria climbs up to the loft and watches Mr. Swash snore softly. And the tuxedo-clad spy figurine walks up to the poster of Betty Boop and says,

"Hi. I'm Mental. Orna Mental."

I'll be back