interlude

It is difficult not to fall in love with a city that is a living definition of art, culture and music. Florence is a delight. It truly is! From musical streets to sky rising churches, multifold bridges to petite art stores tucked under bridges and between the ridges of wide streets... First week of August may not be the best time to travel Italy as Sun god is really kind and humidity is at its peak but anytime is a good time to be a solo travel a city with such a rich soul. Every street has a story to tell and history to re-live. A city, written like a poem, to be read as a verse.. from Sunset boulevard, overlooking Arno * a paradise of hand-bound books, illustrated with history, decals of florentine motifs, woven into delicate tapestry of fine architecture...  illustrated angel & alike charms on the doorway  enthralling mysteries of parallel street warm niches . colossal drawings     ...

simply dressed man  with an honest smile,  on the road, for a journey called lifetime... a long-haul, on the road... every highway with that honest smile, every mountain with the same drive... writing his journal, riding his truck... child in me asked him, " why do we seek to travel far and wide,  when every breath is a journey, we take towards the destination? " very pragmatically, he answered " some stay some vanish... we fight, we feign, we contemplate  but, we keep breathing unaware of  being wiped away, one figment at a time... day in day out, its a journey, make that count " shiny quizzical eyes of a familiar stranger of a traveller,  a story teller learning lessons from the roads,  rivers and air  to  keep walking, keep moving and  keep flowing, and when the end comes,  be rest assured that you made it count!...

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...