Friday 3 February 2017

The ghost of my genes


... the landscape had hills, not hills of the kind I was familiar with. Rocky hillocks with shrubbery sprinkled on them with a background of a grey sky. It was not clear to me where the village ended and where the forest began. The fields were fallow since they were rain-fed and it was not yet the season of the rain. All in all it was a landscape I had not been in for at least two decades. Two decades because I've traveled as a kid around Kurnool where my grandfather used to stay and I vaguely remember the landscape being like this.

Yet, this landscape seemed familiar, with even a dash of nostalgia. I was wondering if my memory as a child was responsible. Or was it the ghost of my genes, since my ancestry is from Cudappah district, not very far from where I was...

The lows and highs - the ebbs and tides - the fall and rise

The water during a high tide on a beach gushes in loudly and surprises me with how high it rises. It moves in slowly but reaches out far in ...