spur.

there is a change in the air. 

a nip in the mornings and fog clouding the tall trees. 

the leaves are falling. 

the birdcalls in the early morning sound different.

even in the little tropical haven in Kerala, i now live in, there is an unmistakable change in the air. 

enough to shake me out of hibernation.

its has been a long monsoons this time. 

one that drenched Onam, Kerala's harvest festival,

which is meant to be bright and sun-shiny

 and cheered with flowers.

the rains have continued with almost no break

into the thunderstorms characteristic of the Malayali month of thulaam.

my camera sank in the depths of the damp, 

as did one of my most prized lenses.

they are both resting in the sick shelf of my room,

along with my Macbook - my window to the world.

but, the bursts of sunshine 

has inspired us enough to put our sparkle on. 

and, shimmer in the sunlight.

literally.

the rains continue,

sometimes not stopping for hours.

despite the cloudy gloom

and the sodden grounds,

the feeling that better things are yet to come 

manages to reign strong.

Christmas is not far away.

things will look up.

ps

i do love leaves!

rainy afternoon

It hasn't stopped raining the whole day. Little madam has been water-colouring. I am pleasantly surprised to see her colour preference deviate from pinks, peaches and oranges to purples and blues. Peering closely, I realise, it has more to do with the bleak skies and dark clouds that she views from the dining room window than anything else.

Chotte Saheb is getting restless and has more energy than ever and hardly any place to spend it with the onset of monsoons.

It is a Sunday, after all, and with the little ones gaping at their cartoons, I slip into my bedroom overlooking a wet balcony and a wetter park four storeys below. I sigh as I hold a fistful of rice puffs warmed in the microwave and the aroma of hot coffe wafts softly from a large mug placed on the desk.

I am tempted to stretch my legs and let the stress ebb away, but I don't want to break the languid ambience... lo and behold, there are paint stained fingers dipping into the bowl of rice puffs and sticky, tinier ones trying to secure his place on my lap.

Suddenly, the desk is cluttered with pages of water colour in various stages of dryness and ricepuffs are falling to the floor not unlike snowflakes, but messier!

oh well! the two minutes of quiet were well-worth it!