A very engrossing read by Jawar Seetharaman who also wrote Udal, porul Ananthi. This book explores the subtle relation between human expectations, disappointments, vengeance and hatred carried over to the other world as well.
For some time yesterday, the title applied to my case. I spent the weekend in Washington with my friend from undergrad, Ambika. The trip was real fun. We went to Washington D.C and a State park called “Cunningham falls state park”. Ended up climbing the mountain to the top of the falls and beyond. It was wonderful exercise for the mind and the body.
Ambika, Sundar, Satish, Rakesh and me formed the gang that hit the state park. Ammu being too tired to climb the falls, the intrepid adventurers were the other four, Sunny after some persuasion. He is ammu’s husband. :) . You do need to eat!! Vengeance.
It was a delightful hike and Satish was a photo buff and had some interesting ideas for photographs and Rakesh turned out to be the cameraman also providing great script to the drama. Great expectations from the pictures.
But the true fun came when I left for my drive back to Jamestown. Had not checked out the weather report. Bad mistake. Turned out to be the deluge overturned on the earth. To this day in my life, I have not passed through a worser storm. But there was a day when I drove to Columbus which was almost as bad but that was daylight and this was a night pitch black. Fear.
Add to it GPS troubles. I- 99 had been rebuilt and my GPS did not know where I was. Lost like an hour to route changes and add to the mental agony of a night like this in America on an interstate no idea where you are going and your cell phone dying on you.:) Hatred.
Fog so dense and thick that you could not see a couple of feet into it. Fog lights were useless. Actually made things really worse due to the Tyndall effect. The other car could see me but I could not see the lines on the road. For a mile or so, I drove not knowing that it was a two way road. :) Eerie.
I got back to the old route that the GPS needed calling Rohan. Got into Pennsylvania’s by roads into Interstate 80 and onward to US 219. And then.
Storm catcher.
The night was lit up by streaks of lightening that lit up earth and the sky for brief flashes of time. A dark night and then a glorious purple light in a streaking arc. I was driving for my dear life. Every moment I was torn between joy, wild joy to be witnessing this display and the other afraid that it would hit me next and I would be among the angels. Other world.
There was a guy in front of my in a SUV and we were both racing to get out of the storm, running it out and hanging on there together. He for me and I for him. For if anything had happened, there was nothing else. Nothing else at all.
Minnal. Edi. Mazhai. Katru. Moodupani. Nan. Skirts of cloud racing across the sky gathering me in a wet embrace. Lights, music, power. It was a beautiful night. Starbucks coffee extra hot vanilla latte, and some koruks.
Silence. My CD got struck in the car and all my cassettes were literally worn out. I did not listen to music for most part of the drive. Turned out to be a blessing.
An enchantingly eerie experience driving at 60-65 mph on a 45 mile road, covered with rain, fog, clouds that hung so low that I could have touched them if I wanted to, lightening and thunder. Me. All alone.
My version of minnal, mazhai, mohini. Fortunately this one’s alive and kicking. Or rather writing.
