Pa's karma has me sitting out here in Lavale, inside the ginormous Symbiosis campus, at the balcony of our trendy guest house, overlooking the landscape dotted by very few trees, and by symbols of human luxury - gold courses, homes of the rich (first thing upon my arrival, I was pointed out to the two lightbulbs that shine outside Jackie Shroff's home on the opposite hilltop), concrete industrial menaces, and ponds; that is just one half of my view - the other still lays enveloped in the morning fog that descended after a night of intermittent rain. It's 0900 but the air still conveys a semi-romantic, semi-obscure, somewhat broody mood. I bet the arrival of the glamour on the weekend does that - I could well imagine a Jack-Daniels-high Jackie Shroff in his Jacuzzi having a fuckfest with his half dozen women partners all day long, then descending down for 'a golf' at his own golf course in later half of the day, while his vaginae sober up for another evening's performance. Well, enough of my depraved self-projections; maybe Mr. Jackie Shroff is out there on his balcony right now, writing about the depraved, isolated, self-gratifying, ugly, and indulgent lifestyle of the new urban middle class (of which I make a part of).
In the meantime, somebody silently crept up to me, and called in others to join in, all outside my knowledge. I couldn't hear a single tick. As it happens, several ants have taken over my floor, clamoring for the cake crumbs which were a result of my morning tea out here with Pa. Ant lines on the marble floor reminds of "marching ants" - oh dear, I miss Photoshop.
A few birds - I can hear an owl or some deep hooting species, maybe mynah, and sparrow, and a peacock sometime back - contribute dully to this dull atmosphere. Sun has just been allowed a passage to the earth by the nimbus overhead.
Oh look, a first bird in sight, a white stork.
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