The weeks have been a blur between cities, zoom meetings, classes and lots of time behind the wheel. In the bustle of life and it’s little dramas, I got to witness the blossoming and fading of a semal on the highway over the course of a couple of weeks. An absolutely beautiful tree by a small bridge, I’ve stopped near it almost every trip to watch the sheer profusion on life thriving in its branches.
Between the hurly burly of responsibility, there were also snatches of absolute abandon, like a few hours of ambling in the woods, lazy swims far out in the blue, scenic drives and mesmerizing old temples. Of all the pleasures, swimming in the sea is probably the most indulgent. It’s strange this call of the blue where I don’t realise when my body is swept up into the waves and then there’s nothing but silence. At some point, there is satiety and the limbs move towards shore, slowly finding steady ground.


But the magnetic pull of moving remains and it continues on land, both on and off the mat. Long stretches across beautiful beaches, dizzying hills, thick forests, stunning temples and idyllic villages. In the countryside, there is no sense of a pandemic having ravaged the world and there is an even rhythm to life and living. It is precious, this comfort of continuity, of a simple unhurried way. These days seem like a gift, all the more special for its transience. Soon, there will be a need to brace for impact but for now, there are miles to go…