It is okay.

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Another usual day. Snoozed alarm. Ticking clock. Red light at the signal. The ever crowded Bangalore public transport. Yet something seemed slightly unusual. An old woman, barely able to balance, was holding the support in one hand, trying to stand on her feet while she constantly wiped tears from her other hand. I do not understand the logic behind youngsters and adults sitting on seats while they watch the old stand, as if they are doing a favor to the old for having the time of their life swaying around.

Anyway, the old woman in the bus sat down next to the door. She would start crying as soon as she finished wiping her tears. I couldn’t help but ask what happened. As expected, she din’t reply. After another round of tears, she started her story. She said she was upset because she was denied of ragi mudde (a south Indian dish). I understood the pain. Not so much of the situational pain but the pain of craving for a dish and not being able to get it, it’s heart breaking! I felt terrible for having my thoughts deviated from her to food. But still, foooooooooood!! :p
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The first.

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Comfortable bed. Coffee in the favorite mug. Music playing from the playlist, random yet not. Clock ticking. Revolutionized notebook and a pen -a laptop which has been good to you for over five years now. Finally what was wished to be done years ago, got started. As a person who always was in awe of the power of words, crawled out of my lazy self and sat down to what I would call scribble. It is easier here with keypad especially with the backspace button. I wonder if life was a book we write in every night planning next day’s course, how used would the backspace button feel!

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