Wrath Of The Dingu

Sometimes the best laid plans can go to waste.

I was to leave for Ladakh a couple of weeks back. Everything was set. The saddlebags were strewn in the open. The bike was leaking oil and the brakes weren’t working. I had just quit my job and had no assets or savings to speak of. I had people breathing down my neck about all and sundry items of my life. It was perfect. Until the fat doctor with a penchant for being hours late came into the picture and spoiled it. She detected dengue in my blood stream.

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Slow Motion In Sepia Tone

I used to feel like a dog on the edge of a highway. Fascinated by the quickly passing by cars and buses which always seemed to know where they were headed, hurrying quickly to the destinations they were so sure they needed to reach. I was so unlike them. I stood at the edge of the road not knowing even which direction to venture out into. Thoughts of possible death by getting crushed were not what stopped my steps. Neither the fear that I had no idea which side lay what. It was this undefined vagueness in my eyes which made everything very blurry – like an old, grainy sepia coloured film running in slow motion. I was lost in the view. I wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t have anywhere to go. I had no destination. I just wanted to enjoy the view.

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