Sunday Diary

The snooze hit me. Sunlight should generally percolate in. But being Bangalore, there is a reasonably good wager between the sky gods that no one comes remotely close to guessing the climate. Ablutions and musings apart, what else was left to do. Garam chai, TOI, boiled eggs, raagas and feeding the fishes.

Carl Fredricksen wanted to hate that morning. The retirement home agents had rang the doorbell and were carrying that obnoxious 64 watt smile. And what a mockery he made of them. The house was afloat in mid-air in no time and he was off to fulfil the dream - Carl's and Ellie's. A home right near Paradise Falls in South America at the top of the precipice. The journey had just begun and the thousand balloons bloated away towards the cumulus clouds.

Ahha...UP seems fun. I was very sure of procuring that tabooed single ticket. Thanks to my ever dependent bike, I reached Inox the moment the kids were getting accustomed to the dark hall. C'mon Pixar: hold me, thrill me, kiss me and yes kill me.

Russell - the wilderness explorer, Kevin - the bird and Doug - the dog, tag teamed to beat Muntz, the haughty explorer.

Smile. Pixar never ceases to astonish.

When Kafka Tamura woke up, hazy lights passed by the window. He was still a few hours away from Takamashi station. Yes, he was the strongest 15 year old in the world. But the future was uncertain. Nay, he was strong. The bus entered a bylane by the highway and announced a 20 minute break. An hour still left. And that is when he met Sakura, the petite lady.

Ummm...now what? Ummm...fortunately, the backpack contained Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. Ummm.... Jayanagar 4th block CCD. Empty. Outside. By the ledge. Cloudy skies. Tree lined avenue. Hmmm.

Nakata was dumb. He was talking to Mr. Otsuka, the black cat. The cat seemed pretty annoyed that a human could converse in its language. But that was the only special skill Nakata had. After the childhood accident, he had mutated from an fairly intelligent kid to the dumbest 'thing' around. He could never spell, read or write after that and was surviving on the 'sub city' from the Governor. Now, he was old. Today, he was looking for Gomu, a lost cat. Mr. Otsuka had never seen Gomu, but wished Mr. Nakata the best.

I sipped the warm delicate frothy cappuccino (yes, I just used 3 adjectives here). The flavor of the those drenched coffee plantations levitated in my head. Looked around. A bittersweet couple resolving their issues. A couple on their second date (no way it was their first). The coffee felt let's say, misty. Group of teenie-weenie friends who am sure watched Friends all day. The sandwich came. A guitarist and his sycophant friend who went gaga over his unskilled skills. Enough. Back to the book.

I was blogging after a long time. Maybe this is a book on my life. Maybe, there is strength to be gained from the wandering aimless life, I am managing to live. Maybe, every moment of this day is captured somehow in the dark wee hours of the night. This time - by me.

I biked home. As I pedalled back, I was thinking of the pressure cooker I had just bought. Hopefully that will enlighten me and take me back to the good ol' culinary days. 'Into Thin Air' for 50 bucks was another great deal. The mind kept wandering. A thought crossed my digressing mind. Why not blog the day's events? Sometime in the wee hours...by me.