we were standing on the captain's deck. a pretty place, tiny with space just enuf to squeeze three people in. a beautiful thatched roof over it, the space was replete with the boat-version of the steering wheel, the compass, and bamboo shafts along the four sides of the cube to keep us from falling overboard.
i must add though, the trip, the sights, the breeze, the boat, the waves and of course the setting sun absolutely made my day. i felt like i could reach out and touch that last bit of orange left on the horizon before the former went for its nocturnal dip into the sea. even as i tried to do that, the captain warned me of the possibility of my very last dive into the ocean.
a sheepish grin i gave him. later i asked him if we could swap our careers. he said he would have loved to if only he had atleast known how to spell j.o.u.r.n.a.l.i.s.m
damn! next, i wanna ask the same thing to that chai walla i met, who sells his magic potion to cold, wet trekkers on one of those numerous bends in the himalyas. how i loved his kutty hut amidst maple and apple trees. in it was the damp wooden bench, the hearth over which was a pitcher of sizzling hot tea and a bowl of garamm aloo parathas, the lantern hanging over the roof giving out a faint light just enough to see the gleaming eyes of the chaiwalla and his fluffy huge friendly dog.
...damn this urban life!
