Life. Here. Now

You've been running, fast, swept ahead by the advancing tide. You ride the wave confidently, exhilaration dripping off your body, basking in this glow of new-found self worth and adulation, starry-eyed in anticipation of what's to come. The wave crashes against the shore, and you jump off, jubilant at having conquered it. You look ahead at the oncoming swell, tasting the salt on your lips, taking a minute to catch your breath. The world comes to a temporary pause. It's only you, amongst the wind and the waves, the protagonist on a stage, and a full-house to cheer you on. You spy, out of the corner of your eye, other actors dipping their toes in, testing the waters, taking advantage of your breather. A warning niggles in the recesses of your mind, yet you look on,  breathing in deep, unfazed, schooling yourself. You deserve the break, need it, infact. A refuel, before you plunge in, charged and raring to go. Why welcome Exhaustion on board? A blink to s

I noticed a white breasted kingfisher perched on the stairs by the pavement the other day, resplendent in the bright yellow heat of the sun. One evening, a few days later, during my walk, almost a nightly ritual, I notice a black drongo! I don't know the first thing about birds, neither am I keen on watching them. I would get bored during trips to the bird sanctuary because they all looked the same to me, unless of course, i spot a sea of beautiful pink flamingos, an indignant-looking ostrich, a proud peacock showing off it's dance or a regal appearing hawk. Is it the effect of the lockdown, this new-found interest? Not to mention, the birds that feel safe to venture out in the open, in the absence of the usual human hustle-bustle. I know this, everytime I identify a species, a frisson of pleased excitement runs through my veins. I also particularly enjoy sitting out in my balcony, in the mid-day silence, looking into the salt troughs in the distance, ear drums c