The Morning Sun

I lift my face to catch the rays of the morning sun, like a child on the beach trying to catch the spray. It’s a wonderful feeling on a cold Autumn morning. The warmth of the sun chases away the gnawing cold of early dawn. I say to myself, "The sun is here to brighten my day and it is going to be a beautiful one."

When you are sitting down with a cuppa and the mood is lightened by such sentiments, the world becomes a happy place to be in. The black spots on the white sheet that is the mind, become grey and then disappear. Thus armed with a clean slate inside my head, I start to prepare for my day.

I begin by checking the weather forecast for the weekend. I woke up this morning, wanting to lie on the sand and read a book under the sun. A day at the beach seems like a good way to spend this Saturday or Sunday. I am praying for at least one sunny day. Unfortunately, it is not to be. The weather Gods are clearly not fans of mine. After 3 glorious days of sunshine, albeit with a bit of cool wind, the rest of the week and the weekend is expected to be cloudy, with possible showers. Bummer! Well, I will check again on Friday. I do not always rely on the weatherman's prediction for the weekend, this early in the week. In any case, I have a few other things on my list that would cover the weekend, in the event of rain. Now, I need to find something to occupy the weeknights, leading up to a weekend of Paniyiri Greek Festival and a possible day at the coast.

You noticed how I started by planning my weekend first, did you? Yes, I do that a lot. I work my way backwards from where I want to be. A friend of mine would be amused that I would go straight to the bottom of his email first and then start reading it from the top. Why not? Most people do not start off emails with words like 'love' or 'care' but almost everyone signs of their emails with endearing emotions - 'Take care', 'Speak soon', 'Love', 'Hugs & Kisses', etc. Even if it just a happy smiley, it is a happy ending. Unless you were expecting bad news, you can almost always be certain that the best part of the letter is at the bottom of it. On a more serious plane, if I was reading an email at work that expected me to solve a problem, I would still like to start from the bottom of the email trail and gather as much background information I can before I sink my teeth into the real issue. It has worked well for me every single time.

Go on. Try it. Next time you read an email, go to the bottom first and find out whether it is good news or bad. Then start reading from the top. If you are a smart-ass, you will probably try reading the email backwards altogether. That is funny but believe me, it will get you nowhere.

I digress. My weekend planned, I set off to work out what my day should look like. This is easy. I have to block off the time I will be at work and leave the rest of the day for other activities. Being fairly immobile, thanks to a bum knee, the 'other things' category has limited options. The office work sorts itself out by the number of tasks and hand and prioritisation that has been done when the task landed in the mailbox. There! All done and set to go.

All it took was that little burst of sunshine to kick start my day. The glorious morning sun is surely a blessing, no less!

(Dear Sun, I just want you to know that I wish you were not such a late riser these days. You showed up minutes after I woke up, today. I'm just saying...)

(Dear Sun, I'm sorry I wrote that previous line. My morning cuppa was upset for not getting credit for kick-starting my day and all that. All good now)

Chapter 8: Prepare for Arrival

I thought it looked like she was drawing, earlier. I was not sure, peripheral vision and all that. I can see more clearly now and I see a few block diagrams on the page she is currently writing on. With that, I will settle for studying not creative writing.

A funny thing occurred to me just now. The way I am taking pictures on my mobile every now and then, making notes on a sheet of paper, it might appear as if I am doing a recce of the place. I could be up to something illegal, marking out my route, for a later date when I will need to execute my plan. Luckily for me, I am on an aeroplane, flying miles above the earth. In the air, taking pictures and making notes are allowed. Any idea that I may be charting out the route by doing that is too far-fetched to be realistic. There is not much sense I can make, of the route, with the moving clouds and a beautiful sunset, can I?

I have hit the end of this page and I still have to conclude my writing. I am not done yet. What am I going to do? I really should stop writing and pick up the book I have brought with me, to read. It is called A Walk To Remember, by Nicholas Sparks. I have never read anything by this author before but the book has good reviews at the back. It promises to touch my heart too. 

Let me dig in my handbag and see if I have any scraps of paper I can use, to finish off my ramble-on-paper. 

I've found an email that I had printed off earlier in the day. It is the list of things a girlfriend has asked me to do, while I am in Melbourne. This will have to do.

The clouds outside are all grey now, and below us. The horizon is orange, yellow and a shade of blue or green. There are patches of the dark sky blue colour I saw earlier. 

I am on a ship, cruising along the waters, looking out the window of my cabin on the top floor.

I cannot seem to come up with an appropriate ending. Actually, I need to pee. I have been holding myself for a while now. As I said earlier, I could not find the toilets at the airport, then I could not go because the plane was stationery and then the chick came in and started writing right away and then I waited for her to take a break, which she did not... and there is all that coke I have been drinking. That reminds me. My teachers insisted that I should not use too many 'AND's in a single sentence. They said that made the sentence too long and the reader could lose track of all the things that happened from start to end. My sentences tended to be long, even back then, joined by a whole lot of 'AND's. I may have kicked the habit but it crept in there for a little second, didn't it?

Anyway, I had better go soon. They will turn on the seatbelt signs any minute now and then I will have to wait till we land. I don't know that I can hold for that much longer. There will be a queue of people to get out and sometimes people can be so slow. No. I have to go now. 

My hands are hurting like hell. It is not just my fingers any more. My arms and elbows are hurting too. It has been really long since I last wrote. I have been writing for at least 2 hours. 

Okay. I have just been to the toilet and back. The girl, Elle, is quite pleasant. She was nice about having to get up to let me get out. She had her book, sheets, ipod and a few other things on her lap but she did not seem to mind. Her voice sounds very cheerful. She said something to me when I mumbled an apology about making her get up. She also has common sense. She did not buckle up or pull the tray down till I returned. I think I really like this girl. 

The trip to the toilet was an episode, on its own. A woman entered the loo, just before I reached it. She did not come out for a really long time. I was standing at the front of the plane, where every single person on the plane could possibly see me. After a couple of minutes, I started feeling self-conscious. I could not go back, so I just hid behind the metal wall that separates that part of the plane from the rest of the passenger area. The elderly couple in the front seat could still see me. I saw them looking at me once. Our eyes met and we both did not know whether to smile or not. We settled with a half-smile. That made me even more uncomfortable. 

After 5 long minutes, or more (it definitely felt more), my mind started filling with questions. "Did she die in there?" I thought to myself, willing her to come out. What if she had fainted in the toilet? How long should I wait before I raised an alarm? Do any one of the crew members know there is someone in there?

I heard a little girl's voice from inside the loo. Phew! She had a child with her. It made sense that she was taking her time, if she had a child in there. I had not noticed the child when she entered the loo but then, I was behind her on the narrow corridor between the seats. Another few minutes passed by and I began to wonder if she killed the child. Is that why she had taken the kid into the toilet? I could not hear any sounds inside and there were no signs of anyone getting out of the toilet. I nearly looked down to see if there was blood, flowing out from underneath the door. I kicked myself. I watch too many cop shows! Between the desperate need to pee and the various CSI shows I have been watching lately, my mind had lost the capacity to think straight. 

I turned to look at the things around me. There was not much. A little fridge, trash, something behind the curtains and the exit doors on either side of the plane. I peered to read the signs and markings on the doors. There were quite a few symbols marked on each door, indicating the mechanism to release the doors, in the event of an emergency. Mostly, I could not make out much other than turning a lever here and pushing a panel there. I was concentrating so hard I had the urge to try it out, to see if it worked. 

A fleeting thought passed my mind that moment, "What if I opened one of these doors and let a blast of air in, for a brief second?"

As soon as I thought that, I turned back to the toilet door. I really had to pee. I was going crazy here. What was I thinking? I would kill hundreds of people right there, as the aircraft veered out of control and crashed, thanks to one little whim of mine to open an emergency door while we were hundreds of kilometres up in the air. Bizarre things come to mind when the mind is unable to function properly, due to the strong need to expel bodily fluids. That is my defence. Thanks to all those episodes of Air Crash Investigations, at least I know what would happen. That means, I do not have the urge to actually open the door to find out. Hurray!

Does it seem like I watch too much television? 

To cut a long story short, the woman and her child came out of the bathroom, before I did anything that would everyone on the plane. I rushed in and locked myself inside. When the deed was done and I stepped out, someone was waiting at the door. The embarrassment never ends! Why did someone have to be waiting outside? Did I take a long time too?

I am back at my seat now. Elle is back to her writing. I should have been reading but I had to tell the story that I just finished, so here I am, scribbling away some more. I might as well fill up the remaining half of this page before I wind up. 

Elle just spoke to me! She is asking me if I want the lights turned on. I smiled and said no. She said it was nice to see someone other than her writing by hand, she does not see that often. We both agreed that handwriting was a great thing. I really like her. 

That short conversation answers a few questions. She has noticed that I am writing. She did not ask what I was writing about. Either she does not care or she has peeked at my sheets while I was away. No, that can't be. I am sure she is just being polite. It is not as if I asked her what she was writing, even though the question has been eating away at me since I first noticed her writing. 

While I was getting out of the seat, I saw the title of the book she has been referring to. It says something about Melbourne Design and has pictures of what could be the Melbourne CBD. I can't say whether she is from Melbourne or Brisbane or even from other part of the world. She does not have much luggage but I have learned that people check in their bags even on short trips. Maybe her trip is not short. I'll never know.

It is plain grey outside, like a road underneath us. The horizon is orange and gold. I am on a big truck, cruising along the road. Maybe it is a Volvo bus, cool and smooth.

The captain has just asked the cabin crew to "prepare for arrival". I can feel the aircraft lower altitude. My heart is racing. Did I mention how much I love take-off and landing? I am definitely going to stop writing now. I have reached the end of the paper, my arms are hurting, I need to put the tray back on and the flight has nearly ended. All good reasons to stop. 

It has been lovely to write. I enjoyed my flight, thank you very much.

Chapter 7: Sunset and Sunrise

I am going to start writing in small print now. This is the last sheet of paper I've got. I have some more in my suitcase in the overhead compartment but I don't think I will bother with that. It would break my monotony and Elle's writing too. I've already lost a few precious moments pondering over it. Writing in small print has reminded me of the time my friends and I decided to do that for fun, in college. One of our professors used to dictate endless pages of notes in his excruciatingly boring class. We came up with unique ways of amusing ourselves, one of which was to write in really small print and see who would use the least number of pages. Some students even wrote on the margins of the page. Our argument that we were trying to save paper did not quite save us from the professor's wrath, when he got wind of our secret game!

I am trying to slow down but my fingers are trapped in a rhythm. It is going to be hard reading small print that I write at this speed. The words in my head are still flying past, so that is not helping either. Now, I'm going back and forth trying to pick up words that I missed. This is not looking good.

The pilot has just announced that we are "440 miles, that is 750 kilometres, north of Melbourne, coming up over the west of New South Wales". He is saying that we are ahead of schedule by 20 minutes and will arrive in Melbourne at 10 past nine by the local clock. He is now reminding us that we need to move our watches forward by an hour. I would love to pull out my mobile and do that now but I think that might be frowned upon. I don't think I'll change the time on my iPad. It doesn't matter.

The sun is shining bright outside. It is strange to look out and see the sun shining so bright at half past 8 in the night. Even if there is daylight till late in summers, I doubt that the sun is this bright at this hour. The time on clocks and watches is redundant up here in space, isn't it? 

The clouds are a beautiful combination of white, light and dark grey, with shades of pink and orange in the mix. The horizon is layers of blue, green, yellow and orange, just like the pictures in our Physics text books when we learnt about refraction. I should stop writing and take a few pictures of this. Yeah, I do that a lot. The pictures I take on my mobile during flights look alright on the mobile but they never look the same when I put them on the computer. I hate it when that happens but it hasn't stopped me from taking pictures on the mobile anyway. "I can edit them on Picasa", I say to myself each time. It has not happened once.

I'm still dogged by the curiosity as to what Elle's thinking about what I am doing. Surely, it is not usual for the person next to you to be scribing non-stop on a flight? She has switched on her ipod and is listening to music quite loudly. I can hear the beats, even though I can't make out the songs. Oh, she has the flight manual on her lap. I didn't see her pick it up. It must have been when I was admiring the clouds outside. That reminds me. I haven't read the flight safety manual on this flight myself. I must do it as soon as I can. I can't do it right now because if she has picked up the manual in the last few minutes, it will look creepy that I do the same. She will suspect that I am watching her, if she already hasn't.

Hopefully Murphy and his law won't come into play in the next few minutes. The one flight on which I forgot to read the manual (because I was busy writing, may I clarify?), is the one where I hadn't flown in a long time and couldn't remember what to do. What are the odds of that happening? I have spooked myself out now, I had better read the manual. It doesn't matter if she thinks I'm copying her. It is a question of my life. If the plane decides to take a nosedive and I die on this plane, they might find my notes and know what Elle is doing. They will know my last few words but I doubt that I want anyone to read this. Even if I die.

There, I've done it. Relief, at last. Knowing Murphy, he will stay away today. I have no problems with that whatsoever. As far as I am concerned, I can brace myself and do a couple of life-saving manoeuvres if push comes to shove. 

Outside, the sun is setting. On the right side of my view, the sky and clouds are a shade of pinkish grey. Up  ahead, it is a bright yellow shine of the sun, not quite ready to set yet. In some part of the world, people must be beginning to wake up to that light. On my left, it is a dull and depressing grey. The sun has set and night has crept upon the cities there. Come to think of it, I am sitting at the right window seat, which means that I am heading towards that darkness. Of course! It will be night time when we land in Melbourne. It makes perfect sense. Did I just see the sunset and sunrise at the same time? Wow!!

The little sojourn I took to read the manual has dulled my excitement to write. My fingers are hurting more than I am happy about. These must be signs. I had better stop writing once I reach the end of this sheet. I will.

Chapter 6: A Short Detour

I forgot to mention that I brought the food tray down, to use as a table, to write. This was one of those thoughts that slipped past me, as new came tumbling through. It has revisited me now and I can write about it. I am a little worried that while I do that, there will be more ideas that will disappear before I can catch them. I am going to have to let them pass. What I do not know won't hurt me. Right? 

I had the book on my lap and my sheets on the book. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her pull down the food tray from the seat in front of her and use that as a table. I kicked myself gently for not thinking of that earlier. Heck, I have too many things going on in my head to come up with ideas of my own. Anyway, I could not pull the tray down right then, lest she find out that I have been watching her. To save my pride, I forced myself to keep writing on my lap. 

I can not take it any longer. Down comes my tray. Wow. This is comfortable! Except, I should have taken out another fresh sheet of paper from my bag before I did this. I am pretty sure that I would have thought of using the tray as a table and getting all my sheets in order, if I was not so busy multi-tasking. I am observing her, trying to find out more about her, writing about her, looking out the window and watching the scenery change, writing about that, trying to ignore the pain developing in my fingers and moving up to my elbows. Being a writer is not easy, no matter what you are writing. Enough with fighting with myself. Moving on. 

I am thinking the words aloud in my mind and that is slowing me down too. I tried writing faster once or twice but my fingers fly about, making marks on paper which I am quite confident I will not be able to read later. I need to write legibly or this whole exercise will have been in vain. The nagging thought in my head is whether she has noticed that I am writing and whether she is on to the fact that she is the protagonist in this hour of my life. She probably has noticed and surely has no idea about her involvement. Imagine if I had one of my clumsy moments and one of my sheets landed in her lap! She would casually glance at what I am writing and, if I am unlucky enough, make out a sentence or two that I have written about her. That would be embarrassing and hilarious? I feel like laughing out aloud but I can't. 

Gosh, it is amazing how different it is to write than to type. The handwriting, the speed, the fingers hurting because I grip too hard, the pencil lead running out, etc. Not to mention, no smiley faces!

It is still blazing hot outside. It will be 9:30PM when I arrive in Melbourne. They are an hour ahead of Brisbane. The T20 match will be over. I wonder if we won this one at least. I am almost loathe to check. I know I will. I can't resist. I am not expecting us to win this one, given the way we have been playing recently but it will be welcome. Like an oasis in a desert. 

What is with all the desert references today? 

I may not have written in a while but I find that I remember most of the rules my teachers taught me in school. This is a pleasant surprise. The tab before a new para, the double arrowhead for 2 words inserts, that my teachers discouraged in essays but said I could use in casual letters to my friends. I took advantage of that alright. Letters I wrote to my friends, during school holidays, would be filled with arrows and asterisks. Every inch of the "inland letter" would be crammed. I had eventually moved on to writing in paper and stuffing them into envelopes, so I had more space for my news. The inland letters were reserved for short code messages. I always have so much to say. My thoughts would fly quickly, old ones pushing the new ones out of my mind and I had to write fast enough to be able to catch them all as they made their way past the window of my mind's eye. That is exactly the same thing happening to me now!

I keep forgetting that I am writing with a pencil and I can erase. Another of my habits my teachers absolutely hated and I could not stop myself from doing, was 'scratching and rewriting'. I am doing that now, even though I could just as easily erase and write over. I do not think I am going to bother much with that, anyway. It is easier to scratch and move on, at this speed. I am not being marked for this essay. It does not matter whether I score out words or I overwrite them.

Chapter 5: Fast and Furious

The scenery outside has changed now. The floaty, wonderland look has disappeared. I don't see any clouds around me any more. Oh, there they are! We have flown way above the clouds now. Down below me, the clouds form a desert-like appearance. It looks like an expanse of white sand with bluish-grey (or greyish blue) shadows of the little dunes everywhere. It is picturesque in a way that only deserts can be. The sky is a clear blue. It is a dark shade of blue. It looks hot. It is the sun that I can see from the periphery of my window and the flash of blinding white in the horizon that must be giving it that appearance. The air around me looks pretty hot too. The kind of air that one might find in the desert. Is it really hot out there? Isn't it supposed to be cooler as we go higher? I am a little confused by all the science and literature mixing in my head now.

I have always thought sky blue was a pastel colour. I am not sure why I thought that. I guess I just liked that colour better than the other shades when I looked up in the sky. As a kid, I used to want a dress of the pale blue shade of the sky, with white lace. I don't think I ever got one because I wanted the perfect shade or not at all. Even I was never sure what the perfect shade was. I was a strange kid alright. I even used to create my own words and attach meanings to them. I have always visualized words in pictures and colours. Sky blue was a pastel blue with pale edges. It almost sounds like Autism, doesn't it? I am not smart enough, so that can be ruled out.

Ellie, beside me, is scribbling away non-stop. It might appear that I am just looking out the window and thinking strange things but that is not true. I am writing real fast too. I am trying hard to keep up with the speed of my thoughts. She looks as if she has an epic novel in her head and wants to pen it down before she forgets something. I can see her referring to her big book every now and then. If I had not seen earlier that it was a book on Architecture, I would swear that it is a dictionary or a map. She is not quite reading long before she gets back to her writing. A quick peek and she is back to her script. The way she is making those elaborate notes, I am leaning towards project work. She is clearly not writing off the big book. Her body language is screaming to me that the words are dropping off her head on to paper. 

With one seat between us, there is not much I can see. I am looking at her through my peripheral vision, too, as I write. That is not helping either. It is the only way I can do this, though. If I stopped to turn and look, I would not only draw her attention but my thoughts would run away before I can put them down. It is hard enough catching up with the writing as I think. It would be near impossible to think, then form the sentences again on to paper. I already feel as if I am missing a few sentences here and there. 

I wonder if she has noticed that I am writing too. If she has, does she have similar questions running through her head as I do? She seems to be concentrating on her work but girls have a way of noticing things, without letting on. I am fairly confident that she is aware that I am writing. It is not clear to me how aware she is. Has she realized that I only started writing a little after she started? Probably not. She might just brush it off as me settling in, before I started to write. Not everyone walks in with a paper and pen in hand and gets down to scribing as soon as their bum hits the seat. Let me see. She knows that I am writing. She does not know that I am writing because of her. She surely does not realize that I am writing about her. 

Now, that would be funny. Imagine if she found that out. She might want to rip my sheets. If she is sufficiently freaked out, she might make some noise and get one of the crew to throw me out. Out of the seat, I mean, not the plane. That would be ridiculous! They would not kill someone for writing that the girl sitting next to me is writing about something. She does not seem to care anyway. I have nothing to worry about, for the moment at least. This is just me playing out weird scenes in my head. I don't think I have anything to worry about at all.

The air-hostesses are wheeling the food and drinks trolley down the aisle now. I used to travel in flights where they serve that stuff for free but, with the cheap flights these days, I have to buy food. Sometimes I do but today I am determined not to. I have eaten at the airport and I have a bottle of Coke Zero with me. 

"Mmmm, the coffee smells great!" 

I had better take a sip of my coke and get some caffeine into my body. The ladies are just one seat away from me now. I'm beginning to feel a little bit of stress. I have not decided whether I will polite refuse to buy anything or ignore them and pretend to be concentrating on my work. I am not good at acting and I really cannot ignore people. What am I going to do?

"No, thank you", I smiled at her. Not much thinking involved there. I did what I would do, inevitably. 

Elle is not buying anything either. She has a bottle of water she has been sipping from. Apparently, she has better dietary habits than I. I bet she did not buy chicken from Red Rooster at the airport either. 

All this movement inside the plane has increased the contents flying through my head. I am writing furiously now. My fingers are beginning to feel the pressure. More and more sentences are flying past, that I can't seem to pick up. It does not appear to be affecting my narrative, so I will let it be. There is no sense in going back to collect those thoughts now. I need fresh paper, quick. There it is!

Chapter 4: Alice In Wonderland

We are flying above the clouds now. Actually, we are flying through the clouds. It is a sort of white all around and a little grey. Every now and then we pass through the clouds. It gets misty and whitish. Of course, we do not feel a thing because we are in a plane but each time we pass through a cloud, I mentally prepare myself to feel cold and wet. My imagination must be working overtime. In reality, I might as well be in a car, driving through mist. It does not feel any different from that. There are no speed-bumps in the sky, if that counts for anything. If there were air pockets, or whatever it is they call those things that rock the plane, they would have made up for the bumps on the road. 

Sometimes it looks as if we will fall off the end of the road - cloud, in this case - if we kept going. Yes, it feels like we are riding on the cloud. I can see clouds splayed below me. We are most likely just flying in air but all of this is getting a bit hard to comprehend. I wonder how fantasy writers write their books. It must suck quite a bit out of them, imaging things and creating scenes in their mind that people must also relate to, even though they do not exist. I can now see why some of the stuff is written so close to reality. It is extremely difficult to completely move away from reality and create something that the readers can relate to. We understand Quidditch because it sounds like cricket and has similar rules. Imagine if Rowling had made up something totally random. Say, she called it Bingaloo and made up new rules to go. Even if the readers did understand it, it might be a little hard to retain as they cut through the book. I feel quite drained myself, when I finish a fantasy novel. Writing it cannot be easy.

I took off on my own train of thoughts there, didn't I? A picture of me sitting inside a train, in a fast moving car, just passed through my head. 

The end that I am worried about falling off of, is quite far. Well, there is no such end really, but it does look like all these clouds end somewhere out there and we will run out of ground to drive on. I can see gaping holes among the clouds now. There are quite a few on my right. Since I do not feel any bumps, I am assuming that there are no potholes where we are driving. The potholes (shall I call them cloudholes?) are quite fascinating themselves. We just passed by one of them quite closely. It looks like there are curtains on both sides of us. I am reminded of Hover Car Racer. Matthew Reilly describes it so well. I am going to steal his imagination here and say, where he had brown and grey hard rocks on either side of the path, we have fluffy white and grey clouds. Our plane is zooming past them, just like his cars. They were racing. We are not.

I might as well be in one of the adventures of The Journey To The Centre Of The Earth series. Yeah, it sure feels like it. It is like the real earth but with a touch of unreality. Does that make sense? I cannot think of a better way to describe it. It is exhilarating! I would do nothing else at this moment than be flying in the sky, in an airbus, experiencing the magic of floating through the clouds!

It is kind of funny but I have flown from the same airport at least 3 times, in the past, but I have never managed to find the toilets. It happened again today and I was forced to wait till I got on the flight. I still have not been, mind you. I saw this girl, Elle, writing and got bitten by the bug myself. The fact that she is on the aisle seat, writing so intently, has further deterred me from going. I have to excuse myself, break her line of thoughts and interrupt her. It just does not feel worthwhile. I would rather let her write. I need to go but I am going to wait for her to take a break from writing, before I do. Either that or I am desperate enough that I cannot not be bothered to be nice. I hope it does not come to the latter, though, because if I made a dash for it and found myself having to wait in line at the bathroom, I will just about burst.

She is writing non-stop. I wonder what it is about. I wonder if she has noticed that I am writing too. Does she think it is a coincidence or does she realize that I am copying her? I wonder if I will ever find answers to these questions. It would be funny if I nudged her and asked her. What would be funnier is if I told her that I was copying what she was writing, or if I actually did that. I don't think that is possible, from this distance. The thought tickles me, though.

Bird Attack

Let me steal a few lines off a page that warns people off of magpies in Brisbane, to start off.

"You know it’s spring in Brisbane when you see cyclists with bristling spikes on their bike helmets, or children wearing upside down ice cream containers on their heads. No, it’s not a fashion statement. It’s a sign of magpie nesting season, when the swooping can be a little too close for comfort.

Many cyclists have wobbled or fallen after an unexpected attack from a feathered fiend, but there’s no need to panic. See a 2010 magpie attack hotspots map."

The full article is here, if you are interested in reading further. When I first read this, I was a bit alarmed that we needed something called a Magpie Alert. When I saw nothing on these lines in the coming weeks, I figured it must be another one of those little things that Queenslanders seem to make a big deal out of. Until today, when I was attacked by a couple of magpies myself. Boy, are they vicious. My head still hurts. I had to check twice to make sure I was not bleeding. 

The first thing I did on getting home was to log on to the webpage and look at the map. Funny how my suburb is not listed with the magpie alert sign. That explains why I did not get to experience these pesky creatures thus far. I jogged into a lush green park on my way back this morning and voila, there they were. Snuck up from behind me, soundlessly, and went thwack! I felt a sharp, strong knock on my head like someone had thrown a sharp-edged rock at me. I squealed and turned to see the beast of a creature in black and white, fly back on to his tree, with an I-dont-care-for-your-screams expression. I swear I could almost see that on his face... the tilt of his neck, the careless body language, if they is such a thing among birds.

I swore at him and kept walking. Whoosh, he came within seconds... kicking me with his legs but not hurting me that bad. I looked up and there was another guy. What the hell? I decided to turn around and get out of the park. I walked towards the road. Before I knew it, another big rap on my head, nearly missing the soft centre of the top of my head. Fuck, it hurt! I did not even want to stop to look any more, I kept rushing towards the road, away from the trees. Whoosh, another kick. Hell, are they going to keep attacking me? He just attacks me and swoops onto a tree, in full view, as if daring me to question him. Praying that he would not chase me once I was across the road, I crossed and walked real fast, away from the park. I kept turning back to see if he was going to come after me. He did not. 

As I walked back home, my head was throbbing. I touched to see if it was bleeding. My had touched damp hair. Shit! One second of panic before I realised it was just sweat. I remembered I had been running. I walked fast, before the sun could worsen my headache. I had a long day ahead of me... filled with work, domesticity, flying kites and what not. A dry leaf fell on my neck, prised by the gentle breeze from the trees above. I squealed, saw the leaf and laughed. Relief. I have had enough bird attacks for the day. I need a break.

Apparently, Australian magpies are protected by some wildlife act or the other and it is an offence to harm them. Read more here. Right now, I'm pissed. I think humans are the ones that need protection from magpies. They should make magpie attacks an offence and put the rowdy birds behind bars!

A Dragon In My Garden

I finished my book, finished my blog and was about to log off after a quick check of my emails. I heard leaves rustling in my backyard. I figured it must be a possum. It sounded a little less heavy but it was definitely the sound of a short sprint. I turned to find a giant black and white lizard. He took a quick sprint, like a little puppy and stopped, looking upwards at the sky. I grabbed my camera and hoped he would not go away. He stayed still like a rock for a few minutes. Looking through my lenses and trying to place him, I almost thought I was pointing at a dried root or a small rock. I looked away, placed him in his surroundings and went back to my lenses. The rock was him. Click!

Ring-tailed Dragon (Ctenophorus caudicinctus)

He stayed in that position for another few seconds while I turned and came back inside. Another few quick steps, like a puppy that could only be a few days old, and he stops. Looks up. Stares at something for a few seconds. I stare at him. He does not have the flat face of a lizard, it is shaped like a more developed animal, almost like a dog if you stared long enough and tried to match it. Then he takes off again, I hear the rustle of leaves and silence but I can't see him. 

Who is he? I am not even sure he is a 'he'. So, I turned to my best friend, Google. I had thought it might be easy enough to find a picture with a name to it, if I searched for a black and white striped lizard. Not so. First of all, it could be a lizard, gecko or something with an entirely different nomenclature. Second, I had forgotten about creatures that could camouflage against the colours of the garden. I had simply assumed that this fellow could not because he was black and white against the brown and green of the garden. Looking at some of the features listed, I realized that my picture was not good enough to tell me. I could not even say for sure that this one had lidless eyes. I tried to narrow down my search to Queensland garden lizards. Better but still not enough. 

I plodded on. I had to find out what roams in my garden! I found out that skinks and dragons are the most common ones that prowl the gardens in summer. Brilliant! I kept changing the criteria of my search until I finally arrived at a website called the Aussie Photo Guide. There was a picture of a lizard (at least I had that right) that was Aussie and looked like the one I had seen a few minutes ago. The tail was a definite match. The body, well, close. This was it! My guest was the ring-tailed dragon. Scientific name Ctenophorus caudicinctus.

While I was on my search, I chanced upon something that was unique to Queensland. The world's most beautiful lizard, the stunning Golden Tailed Gecko. I am pretty confident I will never see one of these in my garden but I felt it deserved a mention anyway. Pretty as it can get.

I am getting to know the friends in my garden better. It is lovely to see animals wander in your garden. Of course, only as long as the doors are kept closed so they do not decide to visit me inside the house. Like the big sticks-for-legs spider I found in my sink the other day. It is a pity I identified him as a pest and chucked him out, without as much as a picture or a mention in my blog. It took a dragon for that.

Noisy possums, the graceful turkey, bees & other insects, pretty butterflies, spiders, dragon and a whole range of unidentifiable but loud and noisy birds. Who next? There must be something else I cannot see, for I can still hear my dragon friend slinking around among the dried leaves. Good luck to him. Or her.

If you are interested, there is a lovely list of Aussie lizards and frogs, with photographs, compiled by one John Sullivan in February 2003, here. 

It Happens Only In India

Remember those forwards with pictures of overloaded trucks, scooters carrying a family of 4 or 5, over-crowded buses? The subject line of the emails would say 'It happens only in India'. Here's my contribution to IHOIA.

Good: I saw these kids on my way to work one day. It brought back memories of my school days when I did the same. Double-riding with heavy school bags on my BSA SLR that lasted me nearly 10 years...

Bad: Come elections and there's a sudden surge of love for slum-dwellers. Guys from BBMP a.k.a Brihad Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike (Greater Bangalore Municipality Corporation) parked their bore-well drilling lorry bang in the middle of the road one fine morning. The morning wasn't really 'fine' after that. The men in the neighbourhood came down upon them real hard, quarreling about the parking, quarreling about the drilling and the attitude of the workers and just about everything. Finally, it took the cops to get them out of the way and make peace.

As The Family Grows In Size...

I said I was not going to write today because it was really late in the night. I had to sleep for I have an early morning tomorrow. However, that is not to be. Sleep eludes me and my mind is restless for there are thoughts in there that need to be stowed away. Like the old headmaster Dumbledore's pensieve, in the Harry Potter's series.

I remembered to water the plants tonight, before hitting the sack. That got me thinking, took me back in time, in some sort of a reverse action (remember Fast Forward and Fast Reverse in the VCPs of the good old days?)

When the husband and I first left my in-laws place to set up a home by ourselves, we were not sure how we would manage. All we had was the determination to do it. It was not easy but we somehow survived the ups and downs. I have never had a reason to regret the decision. Within a year of moving out and in the midst of our struggle to live on our own, the in-laws demanded that we take the family dog in with us, as they could not take care of her any more. I was worried as to how we fit her in our busy lives, both of us working and barely managing to get the domestic chores done.

A few sleepless nights later, we brought Lucky home, on the husband's insistence. It was not an easy ride at all. She hated being alone and either the husband or I had to rush home from office every day, when the house owner called, annoyed by her howling. The neighbours were constantly complaining to the owner and she wanted us to "do something about the dog". It didn't help that her own children went to the balcony and teased the poor, scared baby. We managed somehow. We got her a radio for her following birthday and played it softly for the time we were away, so she could feel the presence of company and not be overwhelmed by the silence in the house. It seemed to work for a bit.

Slowly, she got used to our routines and began to enjoy living with us. We took her to the in-laws' place on an occasional weekend, for they missed her. During the weekdays, we walked her a couple of kilometers to my parents' place, which she absolutely loved. Soon, she became an inseparable part of our lives. She's our baby now. I cannot imagine a day in my life without her in it. I would be lost if I'd to spend a night without her in the same room as me or without the assurance that she'll be there to wag her tail at me as soon as I open my eyes the next morning.

She's just merged into our lives like brushing teeth or having bath. She's not a responsibility. After this, the only thing that could be an extra responsibility was having a baby. Or so, I thought.

One morning, on a whim, I brought home my parents' old aquarium, lying dirty and abandoned in the garage. Mum and I cleaned it, painted & dried it on the terrace and it was ready to be a home to my fishes. I don't know what made me do it, just knew that I wanted to. I brought home a couple of Black Ghost Knives and a handful of guppies. There has been no looking back since then. I love them. Today, they are another integral part of my life.

The husband and I shared an excitement inexplicable, when the guppies had their babies. It broke our hearts to see one of our blackies die in front of our eyes. It's amazing how they can bring about such an array of emotions in our hearts, without saying a word or connecting with us in any way another human or animal might. I have no regrets.

They're part of my life now, not a responsibility I wish I didn't have! All they need is to be fed twice a day, the air-pump/motor and light switched on for a few hours, a fortnightly cleaning of the tank and changing water. No fuss.

I didn't see anything else coming after this. How could there be? I might have wanted another pup but Lucky wouldn't allow me to. Maybe it's a good thing. She isn't too thrilled about the fishes either but they leave her alone, so she leaves them alone. She feels a wee neglected on days when I'm cleaning the tank and giving the fish all my attention... or on days like the one where the husband and I were rescuing the guppies from their parents. Well, that did not stop me from adding another member-group to the family. It was meant to be.

Last week I brought home plants. Three pots with baby palms, standing tall in the balcony adjoining the bedroom. One Tulsi in the balcony adjoining the library (mum insisted that it was good to have a Tulsi in that particular direction, so it stands alone in the other balcony). All they need is to be watered twice a day. If I did only once, they don't complain either way.

The plants experience is still new. While I enjoy seeing green in my balconies, the challenge will be to ensure that I do not kill them. I hope I can pull this one off too, just like I managed with Lucky and the fishes. I don't know what is in store for me next. It's too early to anticipate. I'll just go with the flow. When it happens, I'm sure it will bring just as much joy into my life as all these other things have.

BSA TFN 09

The TFN has been a dream for my husband since he heard about it last year. Inspired initially by my enthusiasm to cycle, his interest took wings as he registered for bike forums and biked long rides with fellow cyclists from the forums. Ten or eleven months since that first ride, today he is part of the BSA TFN 09, "striking one thing off his bucket list" as he aptly puts it.

The BSA TFN 09 has got a greater coverage this year than the last, on the telly, in the papers, by word of mouth and social networking sites. It is partly the excitement of the larger crowd, participation by the bikers and to an extent the presence of the State Transport Commissioner as one of the riders.

My interest was originally limited to the husband's biking in the TFN. I've been following the TFNers on twitter, FB and flickr avidly. As I read each update, I find that it is getting harder and harder for me to answer the question as to why I did not participate this year. I love cycling but I am lazy. While I occasionally bike to work, I am easily swayed and reasons like rain, traffic, time-limit, etc come in the way of my biking to work on a daily basis.

I must confess, however, that I would love to be part of this biking event next year. The riders only need to have a bike of their own and a passion to ride, the rest is taken care of. The organizers do a fabulous job of getting everything sorted. Right from the recce to the accomodation, photographer, medical support, briefing, etcetra, every little detail has been taken care of with utmost diligence.

My favourite part of the tour, as an audience or follower, is the live updates on Twitter and the daily photo updates on flickr. My happiness knew no bounds when a couple of the TFNers stumbled upon my tweet where I sighed about not finding a picture of the husband and they responded immediately. The next day, there was a picture. I was ecstatic! It is wonderful to see such amazing people and so much compassion.

Today is Day 3 of the tour and the bikers have started their day at Hassan, their second overnight stop, as early as 5AM in the morning. Looking forward to hearing from the husband and tracking their moments regularly via the web.

For pictures from the official photographer PeeVee, look in flickr.

Pre-TFN Kolar ride:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/45326241@N02/page2/
TFN daily updates:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tourofnilgiris/

Twitter handle : tourofnilgiris

Biking Again!

I have a single speed Hercules bike that I bought a couple of years ago. I rode it for a few days. I commuted to work on the bike and caused a few ripples in office. My neighbours were mostly amused or amazed. The family accepted. The husband loved it. I loved it.

Then one day, I just stopped. Sigh. Over time, the husband developed an interest in cycling. He bought himself a Firefox RoadPro costing 25 grand! Today he is preparing for the Tour Of Nilgiris, rides close to 100km per day and does an average speed of 30kph. He rides a Surly named Shirley (yeah, very creative)

He has subscribed me to the TFN emails and it's fantastic to see the enthusiasm of so many bikers all across the country and outside, waiting to do the 7-day tour! It's spiking my excitement levels to an all-time high. I cannot understand why I am not part of it already but hoping I can do it next year.

I've been meaning to start biking again and never got around to doing it. Finally, with a bit of pressure from the darling husband and my dearest friend, I started biking to work last week. I'm loving every minute of it.

The day I decided to start commuting to work on my bike, the husband was even more excited than I. He cleaned & greased the bike for me, fixed the lights on my bag, filled air in the tyres and just about everything that was necessary to get me going.

Day 1, I did not take the bike out. The husband was disappointed. The friend said something on the lines of 'ha ha'.

Day 2, I biked to work. Husband called to tell me how thrilled he was to find the cycle gone, when he got home from one of his long biking expeditions. He asked me if I really rode or if it was stolen. Yeah right, very funny! The friend said something on the lines of 'oh really?' Yeah ok, funny again!

The ride to work felt great with no traffic during the early hours. The weather in the mornings is perfect for the cycling. I rode back and forth twice during the week. I also rode when I went to school, to meet the teachers. Scored a brownie point when Ash mentioned it to Mrs. Vasumathi. All good, all good.

Today, the husband changed the wheels on my bike with the slimmer ones on his single speed BSA SLR. He says his bike looks funny now and mine is lighter. Can't wait to get on it and start riding. We're planning to ride around for today's shopping. Looking forward to it.

Let's Clean Bangalore in One Day

My husband found me this link and it sounds like just another one of those hundreds of organizations trying to desperately save what we can, of Bangalore. Another enterprising young (don't take my word for it) man using the internet to reach a wider audience. It is yet to be seen where this one goes, even though he doesn't promise much more than just 1 day's work. Nevertheless, just like all those numerous volunteers/activists, this sounds worthwhile, simply by nature of the fact that while it's being done, it serves a purpose.

http://www.cbengaluru.com/

Whether it leads to something bigger is not the question. As they say, charity begins at home. So let's start practising... pick up those brooms, give the maid a holiday and start cleaning up your homes. The countdown begins!

If you can form a group, there's nothing more fun than a volunteer activity... after all, it's not something we do everything... definitely not something you can do when you chose to. What's more... we can finally say we 'celebrated' Independence Day!

Why am I promoting this? Because I love my city. I love my Bengaluru!

Disclaimer: Please visit the link for more details. I am merely a citizen, trying to further a cause by putting in my tuppence worth. Thank you!