volcano

Ever tried carrying a flower for someone you love and that too in a crowded train? Save it for someone special. The stale air of the crowed train and tender whif of the fragrance of the flower. The inconsiderateness of the crowd and the thoughtfulness of the flower. The sad, tired faces in the train and freshness of the flower. You need to save from the push and the squeeze, the tear and the pull, the stamp and the scratch. Yes save the flower. Save the feelings. Ooze it in the compartment, at the door when they climb in. ON the seats where they sit. Save the flower. Keep it fresh. We travel everyday. Save the flower everyday.

I was having a disturbed sleep for quite sometime now. In the past weeks, they went past the church, in an auto rickshaw, asking us to exercise caution as there could be flooding in the area. It did create a flutter of emotions and initiated some serious talk about the threat; however, it always stopped at ‘Ah! Last year the waters came only up to the gutters. And the sun rose and set on a very usual busy day for businessmen, servicemen, postmen, watchmen and other men and women. Since last two days it has been raining quite heavily. It has made me quite worried. Then this evening the auto rickshaw was here again. But the oft repeated response was heard again. I know the entire conversation by heart even now. It is Monday today. It has been pouring since morning. There has been a flurry of activity in town. The police were here. There were shouts and whistles everywhere. The municipality men were tying ropes across the road – a sign not to move about in the area. Suddenly, the area sta...