I live in a house that doesn’t spring leaks. My first in six years of being associated with the Navy. My joy finds an outlet – mostly of the gloating and nodding sagely while others moan nature.
My half chewed pencil and Internet Radio (GOD BLESS VIRGIN CLASSIC ROCK) keep me company as I gaze at my computer screen waiting for the elusive muse to come knocking. Two deadlines, three story ideas and the germ of a book, that my friend says I ought to nurture lovingly (until it grows into a full blown virus) torment me. But it’s all good. Like fishing last weekend in turbid harbour waters from a barge. Ignoring the huge green board that says 'Anyone caught fishing will be prosecuted'. Four of us spotting fish that trail enticingly around our bait but refuse to fall for it. Bagging red worms from the localites and not catching a thing. Except for my friend who caught a paavum fish ...so paavam we had to let it go. Chatting about that camping trip to Araku now that the rains have set in.
Visions of holidays yet to be taken. Anandamans or Arunachal and getting more ambitious -
Mundane, stick-in-the-mud good sense prevails - the bane of my existence. Will settle for a camping trip to Araku, 100 kms from here or another fishing expedition preferably in cleaner waters. Definitely month end. There are no takers besides one friend and Anand who really has no choice. Ashwini is leaving for France to learn wine-making. We had some good times - from Lakshadweep to Solang Valley, I will miss her.
As for the other Navy folk here - they give dishwater a complex. I miss Mumbai and the hordes of people I knew who were game for camping and trekking during the monsoons. I miss the ghats and the ghads.