It is a hazy day, white clouds hanging over a bored sky, and a listless sun. Even the birds appear tired. From my office window, a pigeon comes to perch on the little temple gopura in front. Basks in the faint sun for a while. Calls out to a friend or two, and then wondering what else to do in life, takes to the air and flies. If only we humans could do that. Not tread dreary feet on old pavements but spread wings and fly to the embrace of the sky. Perhaps our thoughts would match our imagination would match our reality then. Perhaps.
--
Smitha Murthy, just a moment, February 2008
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