“Why has it always got to be Sambhar buddy “,my north Indian friend shouted at me , I wanted to say , dumbo get off your roti and a kilo of butter first , “ I like it “, came my meek answer .
“Mom’s Sambhar is the best”, I said wanting to convince him and make him believe that Sambhar and idly are the best things that has happened to man, since dietary menu was created,
”You should come home one day and have my mom’s Sambhar and you for the rest of your life will keep asking for it” I said,
He made a face and then gave it a thought and after a couple of minutes asked me, “How will roti taste with Sambhar!! “
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Last Sunset
Rays of Gold and Orange
Meeting the serene blue
Tired birds flocking home
Desperate waves trying to hold on to the shore
Smoke from a nearby hut
Wafting scent of fresh cooked fish
Kites flying high in the sky
Kids running for the ball
Church bells ringing in the background
And a choir singing Jingles
That was how it was
That last sunset, at my favorite bridge
Meeting the serene blue
Tired birds flocking home
Desperate waves trying to hold on to the shore
Smoke from a nearby hut
Wafting scent of fresh cooked fish
Kites flying high in the sky
Kids running for the ball
Church bells ringing in the background
And a choir singing Jingles
That was how it was
That last sunset, at my favorite bridge
Shangumugam Bridge
There is a long bridge near Shangumugam beach and the best part of it is that you are allowed to drive your bike till the tip of bridge.We used to visit that place quite very often, some of our nice friendships developed there. Sitting on the rock there and watching the vast expanse of the sea spreading before us and below us with waves lashing at the pillars of the bridge was an awesome experience.The last time when I went there, there was a strong feeling of nostalgia, the silhouette of the bike pulled me to the past, the stories I thought about sitting on the bridge, the poems I wrote looking at the ocean, the fun we friends had when the bike got stuck in the sand, and the reality that I might never ever visit that place again. Some part of me never boarded the bus to Bangalore that Sunday evening .The bridge and its raw beauty , the sea and its ferocious waves , the serenity of the church behind it , the playful kids with their volleys below , the fisherman and their nets , the memories of times spent with friends there .It was strange that how I never got to see a single sunset despite being there almost every other week , finally when I got the will to get my bike back , it was time for the bridge to show me it’s one last bout of affection , the wheel got stuck in a gap between the slabs of concrete ,I could feel my friends standing with me , walking with me and pulling the bike out for me and saying how they wish they could be there with me for one more time.
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