I spend half my days sipping chai in the chai gate, looking at passing traffic. Bikes, cars, cycles and all sorts of vehicles pass by and sometimes in such fast speeds that I cannot comprehend what they are. Sometimes while sipping sweet cups of "bina-adrak waali" chai- over and over again, songs begin to play in my head. And keeps afloat the hope to finish a film I've wanted to make for the last six months.
Progress is such a cheat-word. It traps us into becoming lazy. It mutates our being by making us run around in circles.
Long walks in the mornings. Chai again. The lovely calming lawn in the night. Me and the monument. A book to write. Somewhere in these, I forget myself, my film, everything. Somewhere there is a calm.
Why do we grow up and become sane?
Progress is such a cheat-word. It traps us into becoming lazy. It mutates our being by making us run around in circles.
Long walks in the mornings. Chai again. The lovely calming lawn in the night. Me and the monument. A book to write. Somewhere in these, I forget myself, my film, everything. Somewhere there is a calm.
Why do we grow up and become sane?
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