interlude

Art . Travel . Tea mnemonics of happiness

L epakshi, a story tucked away in the outskirts of Bangalore and Andhra pradesh's dusty roads. It's glimpse into the times gone by, stories created, lived and told by the paintings on the ceilings, carved walls and chants n hymns. People have left, memories faded, purpose changed, but in the corridors of history, time repeats itself... It was a July morning. The temple was quiet like an  inquisitive  elderly, waiting for us to fill their patient  vintage corridors with the sounds of the day. The entrance to the complex was mysterious and welcoming at the same time. The small entry door unveils a beautiful aangan, which then transcends into a majestic Mandapa.The gradual change in scenery and the feeling of being part of the story is truly mystical and charming. While reading through those beautiful paintings, you become one of the members of the clan and recite the enagaging experie...

On a sun-kissed March afternoon, as the city worked its way towards monotony, blissfully ignorant of the life passing by, I along with the other souls adopted by this city, was happily keying in my life into random wastefulness of this orchestrated motion. It was just another Thursday morning...twenty minutes spent checking on notes that have arrived from the parallel world over the time when this city sleeps...five minutes in getting the cup of tea to my desk, some ten seconds for plugging my ear-phones and most importantly ten patient minutes spent on picking the right tune for the day...Today, Beethoven is out to set the mood, playing Moonlight Sonata and I am scribbling as the monotony was broken by a visual from the past... ... a vague visual of folksy girl sitting under a tree, reading though the struggles of Bernini, hardships of Michelangelo, creation of David and his intense gaze on her as if he is standing right there mystified by her as she reads through him...