What does rain make man do?

Imagine the first ever human being experiencing the first ever rain on Earth.

• Would he be shocked?
• Would he run, fearing the rain?
• Would he seek shelter?
• Would he stare into the sky, looking for the source? 
• Would he consider it magical? A Godsend, perhaps? 
• Would he stick his tongue out to taste it? “Is it water? What is it?”
• Would he consider it sorcery? An act of pure evil, felling trees and destroying shelter?
• Would he send an animal outside of his shelter first, to test the strange downpour?
• Would he dance with joy and jump around in the puddles? 
• Would he cry tears of joy mixed with rain drops, thanking the sky for relieving him of summer heat? “A blessing this is! Whatever it is!” 
• Or would he freeze to death? 

What does man do now, at the sight of rain, anyway? 

• He pauses with shock. “Omg! Rain!” 
• He runs, fearing the rain. 
• He seeks shelter.
• He stares into the sky. Think about it. It’s your instinctive reaction. 
• He thinks its a Godsend. 
• He sticks his tongue out to taste it. “Ah! Fresh, cool water!” 
• He curses the rain, for felling trees, making him wet and for putting his evening out of control.
• He sends a stray, shelter-seeking animal out of his house, because “ew!” 
• He dances with joy and jumps in puddles. 
• He cries with joy, thanking the Gods of rain, for relieving him of summer heat.
• Or he freezes to death. 

 

Has man evolved at all? 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Silhouette

A watercolour painting I made of the Deadwing album by Porcupine Tree

A bird on a tree. I feel this picture is so Twitter-esque.

Sunset at Paradise Beach in Mangalore. It’s all about timing.

Sunrise at Besant Nagar beach, Chennai

Love sunsets in Kerala

Looks like I love sunsets and sunrises too much. But mostly, I love silhouettes. 

Thanks for dropping by! 

A thousand words for a picture – The Englischer Garten, Munich

Ok I’m going to attempt to paint a picture in your head with just words. So this is basically a picture post, except there isn’t a picture. I’m going to make you exercise your imagination. Here goes.

I’m sitting at the Englischer Garten in Munich. It’s a garden of tremendous size and lush, highly saturated green. It’s pretty much a forest of sorts. You could get lost in it. Su, appa and amma are away, taking a walk. I’m on a bench, reading Wodehouse and casually watching passers-by. I see a cute-ish guy jogging. He’s wearing a dark blue dry fit t-shirt. It fits him perfectly. He ran swiftly past me. The smell of his deodorant slightly lingers.

There is a boy who looks American sitting on the bench beside mine. He is wearing a skull cap and a scowl. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here with all his uncles and aunts and kids. He’s a teenager for sure. He’d rather be with his friends. He looks disgruntled. His family has left him to sit here and gone for a stroll. Just like mine. Except I’m not angry. I’m loving every bit of the sun.

Oh yes! The sun! It’s a warm day. It’s the Tuesday everyone has been looking forward to for weeks because the weather forecast guy told them to. Sixteen degree Celsius is a blessing in disguise. Girls are lying in the grass, barely clad and sun bathing. I sat in the moist grass a while ago. My black jeans now have dirty green and brown patches on them.

The atmosphere is very pleasant. It is of the kind the word “spring” brings to mind. Birds chirping, children laughing, the gush of flowing water (there is a stream that flows within this garden), shadows of trees swaying happily, cycle bells ringing, bottles clinking, dogs barking and panting, women’s heels clucking, basket balls bouncing and ringing…

Everyone is dressed colourfully. The sky is blue, the exact blue that it ought to be on a typical spring day. I see red and green trees.  Flowers are in the pink of their health. I see a couple holding hands and walking. He is in blue, she, in a beige dress. There is a black guy on a cycle, casually cycling past the two of them, wearing varicoloured patch-work clothing.

The wind that’s blowing is cold. the kind that rises off the surfaces of a cold river. A touristy old couple is walking in my direction. “Wodehouse!” the old man exclaimed brightly, noticing my book, as he walked past me. He’s holding his wife’s hand. Even after all these years, they still hold hands. Makes me feel good about being in love.

I hear many languages. German topping the table. I can hear English and a little bit of French here and there. And oh! A familiar voice. That’s Kannada of course. I can hear my family even from two kilometres away.

Change of location.

I see a thin, shirtless guy with long curly hair. My kinda guy. Hehe. And my my! The number of dogs! Poodles, blanket-face dogs, pugs, bull dogs, golden retrievers, German shepherds, mastiffs, mutts- some playing fetch, some running about in carefree glory. There is just one silly little mister that is carrying a log that is a tad too huge for his mouth. That is no twig. It’s a huge bark of a tree. There is another dog swimming to fetch hiss ball from the pond behind me.

I hear the cluck cluck of a horse running. It’s a horse-drawn carriage. A beautiful black horse with flowy, shiny hair and thick muscular hooves.

I absolutely love this garden! I wish to have a dog someday, bring him to this garden and watch him stick his tongue out and gallop about wildly.

Whereas me, I’d rather just sit on a bench, absorb the pleasantries of Munich, put this notebook away and get back to reading Ukridge.

My four-legged family member – Stevie, the crocodile

Yesterday as I walked into the elevator leading from my office to the basement, a weird thought struck me. What if there is a moth in this lift? My eyes naturally grew wide and with a sense of foreboding I threw my eyes all over the interiors of the lift (which weirdly has Bollywood song Soldier soldier for elevator music).

Phew! Nothing. I got off the elevator with thoughts about the previous night. I dunno if it’s the monsoons or what but there have been too many cockroaches around of late. And i’m terrified of them. Terrified is an understatement. Not just cockroaches, but butterflies as well. Basically anything that has too many feet and can fly. Like butterflies, grasshoppers, moths, etc. Maybe it’s not more phobia than it is an aversion. They’re just so repulsive!

The previous night, I stepped out of my house and just as I opened the door, a HUGE flying cockroach sat in my hair! I screamed my lungs out! And it whizzed away with its sickening brown wings like nothing abnormal happened at all. And just the night before that I had woken up my mum at ungodly hours to kill a cockroach in the bathroom.

On another night, my cousins and I had a sleep over at my grandpa’s place. That place is infested with cockroaches. It was about 2pm and I had to pee. All four of us were terrified and one cousin went on about how cockroaches are the only creatures that can survive a nuclear war.

So my cousin, Sudarshan, if not the bravest, the most concerned out of the three, came with me. We walked with a newspaper and a chappli in our hands. And lo! A cockroach in the passage leading to the bathroom. We were determined to kill it. Sudarshan went ahead with his chappli raised high. But instead of whacking the cockroach with the chappli, he stood three metres away and threw it limply at it. (And he’s the genius in the family!) The cockroach caught the air from the chappli and scurried threateningly closer to us. The two of us obviously didn’t stand and watch in horror. We were all over the place, Sudarshan’s deep voice in a screechy high and me normally screechy. We ran clumsily as far as we could and jumped onto sofas. We stood watching.

The dumb, obnoxious cockroach had somehow managed to turn upside-down. It lay there wriggling it’s hairy feet to try and turn over. We rejoiced thinking we’d conquered it! We hi-fived and everything! We thought finishing it off wouldn’t be difficult anymore. I went closer to it to squish it under another chappli. But one good look at the awful creature sent me jumping back on the sofa. It was just so hideous! Sudarshan, fed up, took the chappli from my hand, held his hand a meter above the cockroach and dropped the chappli.

Spot on! It miraculously landed right on the karappan poochi (Tamil word for cockroach, translating to ‘black insect’). Of course it wasn’t dead. But at least it wasn’t in our sight anymore. I bravely put on my socks and shoes and put all my weight on the chappli until I heard the small crunch and phthck. I dusted my hands and bravely stomped to the bathroom. Sudarshan and I took turns to stand guard at the door to send in a shout and run if there was a cockroach around.

Uploading this picture because cockroaches are ugly

Such is the drama that goes on if there are insects around. I run out of my house, make my dad drop his spanner and leave the garage if I spot a butterfly inside, to make him shoo it away. I just can’t handle them. At first I thought I didn’t like them because they emerge from caterpillars but I’m not scared of worms of any sort. It’s just the thought of so many hairy legs resting on my arm that freaks me out.

On the other hand, I’m not scared of tiny beetles or spiders or dragonflies. In fact, I have caught spiders and made them my one-day-pets before setting them free. Same case with silk worms and tiny bugs.

And of course, the whole world knows I love lizards and any sort of reptiles. Harmless little poochies! Also, did I mention I have a pet crocodile? He is now sun bathing in all luxury at Madras Crocodile Bank Trust. He’s a very cute salt water croc and lives with two of his family members in his pond. I have named him Stevie, after Steve Irwin of course.

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Well, hope you aren’t appalled like most people are. I hope to spread love for reptiles and make butterflies not-so-mainstream.

Good day!