green and gold

it would be good to be a blade of grass. to look up at sunlit trees. to take root and stay and never move house.

mobius

objective detachment; carefully held wisps of dreams. both absolute when they come. both unbidden. twisted, separate, yet the same. too many differently shaped bits. some fit together so well. yet the ones that get left out form pictures too. fragmented ones, near-complete except for the few missing bits. loop going into loop going into loop.

nothing and everything makes sense. depends from where i look inside.

people are only people afterall.

a very hungry -or blind- gecko

the fever is doing funny things to me.
my hands and feet feel too far away to be of any use and my head feels like a ton of bricks. the throat feels as if mean little monsters with a particular grouse against me are scraping away at the inside with broken nails. i sneeze with such violence that i am blinded and disoriented for seconds afterward.

to redeem the day, one funny thing happened. funny for me, that is.
a gecko bit mom.

now geckos don't, as a rule, bite. this was one gecko that did not know the golden rule. mom feels something funny on her big toe and looks down to see this gecko repeatedly biting into it with much vim and vigor. when she awoke sufficiently from her shocked silence, she let out a yelp, which the attacker mistook for a war-cry, and promptly took evasive action. she is now excusing away her total cowardice by saying that the poor gecko probably mistook her toe for lunch.

walking on petals strewn on the ground - just another day at work

24 happy little people rushing out of the class to shout hello and give hi-fives is no ordinary welcome. it is a good thing that teachers of little people and mothers have arms like the law - very long. long enough gladly, to expand to hug very many little people at the same time, while simultaneously rapping a few on the head.

i walk over nicely wilted flower petals to the door.

i'm instructed to close my eyes and get pushed into the classroom by encouraging hands. on getting permission, i open my eyes into a bouquet staring me in the eye and welcome back on all the writing surfaces. everyone has been hard at work.

they must be indeed glad to see me back. they volunteered the supreme sacrifice of foregoing 5 minutes of their much-awaited sports class to complete an essay.

royal welcome, or what.

if home is where the heart is, then this is home. i am home and i am happy.

many thousand words

the colors are marvelous - at a small temple some 4km from Kurunagela.




the benign Buddha on the Elephant Stone at Athugalpura.




Paws the six toed cat.

coming home

“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” – Lin Yutang


i am home. and it is sweet, i suddenly realize. after spending some time saying hello to the walls in the traditional manner - the traditional manner being hugging them and chanting "i missed you, i missed you", i move to my room. i open the window and all my friendly neighborhood honeybees swarm in to say buzzy hellos.

i am so happy that for a while i forget that my left eye looks like a fierce tomato and feels like hell. mom insists that i'v been laid low by the evil eye. sounds very exotic and mysterious and all that, but a bit hard to believe. who would put a hex on my eye?
and anyway, i cannot understand all the attention paid to eyes. they are such small things. why would anyone notice them? i just dont get the 'windows to the soul' logic at all. i try to look alert and flattered when nice things are said about mine, but i just dont understand the logic. i prefer to look at bigger, more noticeable things. like feet. mostly feet. something freudian, i'm sure.