Last day of my twenties, I bathed Hillary, the good elephant.


The Forest Department manages the elephants they rescue from the wild and this was a small river where they have their daily baths in the evening. I had not been too keen when I first heard it, esp since the temperatures were dipping in the evenings and being in the water did not sound like an option.


waiting for the elephants ...


and here they come...

We reached the place and it was a cute looking shallow river. We waited some moments by bank and the elephants appeared from inside the forest on the other side, riding their mahouts on the backs. It was quite a sight already. The elephants rambled down the bank in an elephantly pace and with orders from the mahout first bent their hind legs and with a splash were all lying down. The bigger tusker even laid down first on his right side, then got up and laid himself down on the left side, so as to wet himself properly.


Then I knew I had to go into the river and touch them, so soon I was wading into the water. I placed my hand on his big tummy and for a moment it did not feel like it was even living. Then it let in a big breath of air and my hand rose up some inches. It was such a wonderful feeling.










We splashed water on him and and the mahout scrubbed him. All this while Hillary just lay calmly enjoying the attention being showered on him. Finally it was over and they again rose up. On the mahouts' intructions they all splashed water over their bodies with their trunks and were off for their evening snack.







Snack time

Dreading it I was, perhaps ever since the day I was 29, but there was no stopping 30. And I am there. 30, feeling it and living it. Loving it? Too early to say still.

The best part about it was that I cut a cake, something I had never had the chance to do before. So I actually cut a cake. And it was with a group of 30 odd people I had met for the first time, only a day earlier. I was taking this group of people from Sikkim's forest committees down to the plains of the Dooars on an exposure trip.

The cake was being planned as a surprise by my colleague- D and the office driver (BK). But on the night of the 21st after we had reached, and were having our drinking session inside the car, BK had more than he was supposed to and started pestering D on when he was planning to get the cake. D gave a sullen look and let me in on the secret, which was no longer one.

So WE got the cake. and I cut it. and THEY all sang. I even got a gift.. YAY!!

I even got a gift, god knows where they went to buy it though, we were quite far from nearest decent town.. and its one of those picture frames that you plug on and it lights up and the river starts flowing and there are even some birds calling.. the ones that my mom and i used to laugh about.. and now i got it as a gift.. so i will treasure it.

I know its a pretty weird pose

Life has so many ways of making you like things you probably never would.

No
Sometimes i
Can’t speak
My heart..

And again
At times
It lies bared
On the table

Yes
Sometimes
one understands me
in words
So few

And again
Some there are
Who will
After volumes uttered
Still have not a clue..

One day I let it slip
Out of my mind
Just slip slip slip…

Gathered, my thoughts
Packed in a small box
At the rear
Always there.. always there..

Till one day I let it slip
Out of my mind
Just slip slip slip

Picked up the pieces
Each of the bits
Even the teeny weenies
And let them one day slip
Out of my mind
Just slip slip slip..

Don’t think hard
Don’t ponder long
What has to go
Is best gone
So one day I let it slip
Out of my mind
Just slip slip slip…

This one is a bit weird
she knows not much
Though she speaks
Of all the world
And such..

Nearing the 30 mark and dreading it so bad. I never thought I would be 30 or rather that it would come so soon. I think of all the things between what I have not done and all the things I wish I could have done.
I feel panicky at my loneliness, not much though, just a little. Just enough for me to know that it is there, somewhere within me.

Sometimes when I make the walk back home, I do not feel like coming home. Coming home to my tv, coming home to the warmth of the heater and the comfort of the bean bag, coming home to the red label black tea, coming home to the books I am trying to finish at one go, coming home to a sink of dirty dishes, coming home to the tiger eyes frames on the walls, coming home to the yellow and blue walls I painted myself, coming home to debates with my own mind on whether to eat or not, followed suit by whether to cook or not, coming home to me, me and me alone.

It’s a steep climb down and naturally it is an even worse steep climb every morning to office. Quite what I wanted- a good walk in the morning. But the flat is nice and well found after days and days of searching and the kitchen has a good view. It is also safe and within the owner’s well guarded premises, which does mean one too many prying eyes often, but my skin has turned thick over the years, and ignoring things which I would not have dared to in the past, comes easy. I don’t even have to think twice on that.

I guess that is what turning 30 means afterall..