To ancient evenings and distant music

Ever thought of where your hopes recede to
What crevices they sulk in waiting to be reassured
Ever wondered how many of them lose their way
Whilst some stay belligerent and strong
And through it all you dance along
To distant pieces of music
A musical paradox waiting to be found

love always

Some of the best journeys are the unplanned frantic last minute ones when you aren’t sure if you should carry a sarong or a stole or a scarf or all three …when you haven’t spent time doing a detailed research when you’re solely relying on your memory of how a place would be and when all you want is to know that there will be plenty of tea….Sri Lanka I miss you so

wanting more

I have often thought of standing high up on a cliff and watching the waves below come chasing me up… and from this vantage point I stand ushering in the monsoon …. may it be a good season …. and may it bring with it a new beginning with an old love

Maya from somewhere along the way


I wait for the day when I shall be chasing the monsoon which is about two weeks away in the meanwhile I dream as I often do when not traveling down the urban rabbit hole…. aye dreams as silly and lucid to me as can be …. But right now a dominating thought is to run away and get lost somewhere …. why I should chose to do so is simply to be unavailable and inaccessible I think I shall lose the BB …. and take off somewhere …. perhaps run into interesting strangers in quaint cafe shops that dot the highway …. conversations that are both surreal and as remote from practical reality …. don’t get me wrong am a realist with imaginary friends on an ordinary day … but somedays are Sundays and I play the illusion I long to be …. Maya from the distant hills that nobody heard off and nobody glanced a second time

Ode to a Monday someday

One of the nicest feelings is to wake up in the morning with absolute no thoughts of having to be any place but home…. Of brewing a fresh pot of tea and thinking only as much as the next breath ..of watching the world come to life in the early morning …the small tea shop with its very first set of customers trailing in to grab hot sweet tea … As I watch them from afar I often wonder what strangers who are up and about at that hour must talk about? could it be about life’s follies or could it be about the weather …. I long then to be part of the conversation but I settle myself comfortably watching and imagining the get together…..then my mind wanders off in the direction of breakfast and a snooze and some more tea and things that ought to be done but could be ignored this very day….life at its simplest happiest best ….and then there Ralph who insists anoushka is coming over for lunch…. Lazy mornings and imaginary friends makes for an intoxicating day…. One in which the variables are only as complex as you want them to be