As they give away my father’s last identity to the rivers I sat quite in some corner of this ambitious city trying to find some peace, some quietness where one doesn’t have to talk. The best place I thought i could go is my office ladies’ restroom. I sat there with ladies hopping in and out every moment with me trying not to get conscious. See how life becomes.
Somehow these days there’s no conversation with self. There is only noise within lots of it – the words that i left unsaid keep saying themselves, words which heard or hear keep repeating themselves..looks like whole of Bangalore rather another Bangalore resides within me. there wasn’t any room for quietness my inside is the noisiest place i have ever seen. somewhere those memories of Mamon and her Baba lay burried there were so many things so many words he said to me, so many I said to him I cant find any.. there is so much noise here…
