Sunday, September 11, 2016

Rasika balama...


Sometimes, I want to leave this century and run away.
But it rains here also. Here also, the wet comes down in downpour that envelops the world in a haze of grey. Here also, there is mist. There are walls, and moss, and love in the hearts of people.

Here too, the strings of the swarmandal chime, a thin layer over the roar of pattering water. Here also there is beauty. Here too are songsters capable of holding out notes of long magic.

There is romance but the problem is I have to sift nuggets of it from the mundane, and the determinedly practical era of today. There are other centuries that would suit me.