Booky Love

There are very few joys that surpass the joy of a new book.

And it has been years since I received a book wrapped in fancy paper and delivered.

Though Flipkart didnt really gift it to me or wrap it up with fancy heart printed paper, the joy of a new book remained unchanged.

Add to that, a cute blue bookmark, a generous discount and that ethereal moment when the nose touches the papery heart of the pages-the moment when you breathe in words and let them swim through the bloody canals of your heart and brain!

Sigh, I love days like these.

p.s: it is true that such a love inspires silly artwork :P

We become stories with every little thing we do.

With my walk to the Godavari bus stop, I begin with my cover photograph.

Girl in clothes put together in two minutes-crushed kurta with yesterday's perfume on it and churidars marked with ink stains.A hurried line of kohl in her eyes.

The Nilgiri is for the fancy dedication.

A lovely set of carefully chosen words manicured and pedicured to fit within the brackets of fancy calligraphy.

By the time I have crossed the Kaveri tank and taken the right from the Nehru statue, the roads lay littered with the string of words that my footsteps sing to the road I tread upon.

I turn back and cringe at the litter and heave a sigh of relief when the sweeper's broom brushes them all aside.

I see how all the words stick to the thin sticks of the broom-all held together with a light electrostatic force.

The kind that lets the comb touch the strands of hair for a few seconds more before parting.

I hear a stranger's radio sing,

"...Sheher sunsaan hai, kidhar jaye,

Khaq hokar kahi bikhar jaye..."

It is funny how every little thing we do becomes a story.