Skip to main content

Skywards

While driving on the roads surrounded by the vast ranches of Texas, I would be awed by the brilliant hues of the sky. Vast and staring down on the man curated landscapes, these skies would take on shades of different colour depending on the time of day, weather or seasons. I remember the brilliant blues of the winter evenings and the bright oranges of the summer morning. When people asked me what I liked about Houston, I would tell them,

"The sky. There's something about the sky here that is different from that the one home".

A year back home, I realised the sky here was no different. Just that it was often hidden and lost behind the high rise buildings and skyscrapers that dotted the Singapore landscape. 

Pity indeed, to have but the occasional opportunity to stare up and get lost in the awesomeness of the universe.  
Labels:

Comments

  1. Anonymous2 July 2017 at 09:18

    I had a similar realisation before. I have to look up to see the sky in new estates. At least in older neighbourhood, when i look straight ahead, i can still see patches of sky. Perhaps such is the changing landscape.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Fool's Pride

I was rolling up the sleeve of my uniform, preparing for a call up that might never come, when I realised that somehow I was overcome by a strange sense of pride, a pride that wanted the length of my sleeve to be precise as I have always pictured in my mind. Any longer, I would look shabby. Any shorter, I would look amateur. Then I donned the green, tightened the velcro around my waist and looked in the mirror. It was just like before and the memories started flooding me. I never really liked it when I donned it for 2 years in a row. Then I was in a place where I detested the culture, the harsh discipline, the unreasonable demands and the lack of purpose in everything I did. But now that it was over, when I look back, it was perhaps the greatest time of my life. The suffering, the digging, the starving, the cold, the banter, the rowdiness, the jungle, the marches,the mountains, the food, the stories, the friendships, it was all worth the 2 years. A girl friend of mine once asked...
2 comments
Read more

Marriage and All That : Part 2

"How about I get married?" "Are you serious?" "Yea" "No really. If you are serious, I can start looking for one" "Uhh....Nah. I was just kidding" After a while, she stopped asking me if I were serious. Instead, she would laugh it off every time I suggested it, which was the original intention of my question. For me it was just comic relief, this idea of marriage that parents back in India would pester their children with once they reached just about where I was right now; young, working with a steady income and of totally no use at home. Though when she did ask me if I was serious, I do remember feeling a palpitation in my heart, the kind one gets when having to make a yuge decision (#trump2016 #makeamericagreatagain), knowing very well that she, along with an army of aunts, waited for my green light to start searching for a bride for the most promising of their nephews. A NRI (non residential Indian used to refer to the ...
2 comments
Read more

6:15 on Hardy Toll

My left hand lies curled in a tight fist between my thighs, while the right presses stiffly against the coarse leather of the steering wheel, bearing the burden of the task. Though to call it a burden would be an overstatement of an activity that once gave me a sleepless 23 hour flight but now bordered on mindlessness. Now, being on the that road, at that time, when even the sun was too lazy to rise from its sleep, was second nature to me. Thoughts raced through my mind, thoughts about the destination I was headed to. The bulk of them recollected old frustrations and the remainder imagined new ones. My left fist curl tighter as I sped ahead in the air conditioned cocoon. I try to keep to the right of the two lanes as I drove, quasi subconsciously,  at 60 miles per hour on a a 65 mile per hour lane, which still had an additional legally tolerable 10 mile per hour buffer. Lost in my unending imaginings, I stay at that speed until an even slower traveler in front jerk me i...
1 comment
Read more