I dreamt of the village..

Motorcycle Diaries - Al otro lado del rio

This song is the ringtone on my cell. I was away when the phone rang and when I returned, the song had played. I sent link to the song to my colleagues who loved the song. Thought would share here. :)

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It's a cloudy day again. Overcast sky - like a grey sweater which has been lying abandoned on the terrace all night and has become impossible to wear; visually calm traffic - without the sunny-bright of the Sun, it appears to appear less striking in colour, sound, rush; sleepy office - with my desk one of the first to light up this morning.
Usually, on such days, I would fly kites and play with street children on my apartment roof. Of course, when I was a teenager. Yestderday, I begged for dahi-chuda and tilkut (understand?) and found a country-cousin's tiffin loaded with the stuff. Ate a bit, almost ceremoniously, and called up Ma to tell her that she needed to eat well for me when I hadn't.
Such life. then and now.
On days like these, I dream of the village, the tree by the river, flowered plaits on my aunt's hair as she would read out nursery rhymes to me, my grandmother's brass bowl of daal-bhaat and desi ghee, salted cookies hidden in glass jars in father's almirah, Ma's red lips after eating beetle, my size 16 bicycle with two tiny siblings riding pillion, the circular staircase to Nana's room, the mud-plastered haveli in the ancestral village, the well and the steel bucket tied to a jute rope, the wax drawings of an asbestos roof....
Then and now. Sigh.