Look Explore you Leap

Impulse. That could be the only explanation to what happened. The encoded whispers of the wind, the snarl of the restless Bullet engine, trucks whipping up dust devils, entangled plugged earphone - the world is now on mute. Birds fly with the sun on their wings.  The clouds look resolved into lumps, like sub-standard mattress stuffing. Church towers stand still like statues, a brown skinned girl in uniform stretches her arm, asking for a lift. Her smile had an innocent dimple. I pull over. She sits across, hands to herself, school bag in between. I continue. Stray lambs bleat with bells, Lawyers in black and labourers in stripped shirts discuss politics, over a steaming kulad chai. Nirmala High School. I turn the bike key anti-clock wise. The grateful smile said it all. As I continue, I look through the rear view mirror. Her size shrinks to a dot. The reflection is now overlapped by the gigantic mountains. I was near. But I was far. Nearer, would probably be more appropriate. ...

Colour, Jilebees and more… It is hard to breathe. The nauseous stench fills the air, making it hard for one not to walk gingerly. You take a sip at the tea stall, even though it’s hard to gulp it down your throat. A foot-wide open drain, human and animal excrement, rotting food, ragged clothed children dressed in smiles, claustrophobic petite gullies made smaller by the number of people sauntering through them as if each one of them are in a hurry. White walls turned grey. Yet, there is more to this place that you can imagine Nestled between the red fort, a Guridwara and the Jama Masjid, it is in its bizarre contradictions that the locals love to call their own. The locals here might have to slum it out, but they have their own style and swagger that in evident in every gesture that this small locality greets you. The young men with their gelled hair and piercing transcend their surroundings. Ragged children wear their smiles, unaware of how harsh the world can be. Every nook and...