S asks: ‘Am I in the clouds? because I can’t see it’. A question that I find myself lost in. I can’t put my finger on it, but it is a beautiful question. You can see when you are not in the clouds, I think. I will spend countless seconds thinking about this. Me, S and N had biked to a betta in Chintamani, we walked where only donkeys and sheep seemed to have, and touched water that only caterpillar poop seemed to have touched. On the way to Channapatna from Ramnagara, there is the Kengal Aanjaneya temple, where the women of Manesiri had put up a stall Turtles in the temple pond I noticed a few months ago that MS Palya is Mohammed Sab Palya, on the plaque at the circle. The MS Palya - Vidyaranyapura - Attur - Yelahanka appears clearly segregated along religious and class lines. Mosque and meat shops on one side, and narrow streets and small homes are clustered far away from streets with cars and sidewalks and wide buildings. A street close to the MS Palya junction At the junction I’ve not run as much as last week. But I am happy that the desire to run has not reduced. Waking up earlier has also given a sense of comfort in what i’ve begun to establish as routines. At the Doddabommasandra kere. From a run. Left. At the Doddabommasandra kere. From a run. Right. Citthiram Pesuthdai, is my third film in attempting to close read Mysskin’s films. I watched Anjaathey and Yuddham Sei before this. His characters are so complicated, that they are real, they are true, and represent moral dillemas that would turn my gut, like he intends them to. Save my sister or the young boy whose sister was raped and killed? Marry the love of my life or let her know that her widowed father used to visit sex workers? I am dumbstruck by the moral spine that these characters show in all their fibrously grey writing, and Mysskin has earned a fan. Sangeetha shared that she is a fan of Mysskin’s films, which led me to watch these Anjaathey Yuddham Sei Citthiram Pesuthadi I learnt that the cult popular song Vaalameenukkum Vilangumeenukum, a song that I’ve never spent time listening to the lyrics of, but i’ve heard for all the years of my life…is from Citthiram Pesuthadi… https://youtu.be/PMi42cz5j2U ...

We let ourselves be carried by a full stomach’s tug. It was a cheery sunday morning after breakfast in Ulsoor. Like a broad piece of paper in the wind, we swayed through a few streets of Indiranagar, two friends of mine and me. We came across this fallen tree or what looks like 4 or 5 trees that have blended their lives together. This phenomenon is apparently called inosculation by botanists, or as this blog puts it - love trees. I’ve seen many trees fallen and trunkless in this monsoon. Their fates parched of a future by our love - concrete. This week, Aman and Vivek’s work with the Censor Board Certifactes, brought Vivek to archiving Censor Certificates on Archive.org. This prompted me to suggest that we archive Lok Sabha records outside of the state owned site. This was a few reasons: They are vulnerable sitting within silos, and can often disappear when administrations change or modify digital locations. They sit in silos and are not available as indexed material to search and find, and thus do not contribute to public knowledge easily. Old LS debates pre 70’s are not reliably available…This prompted Vivek to start archiving both the LS recordsand began looking at Vidhan Sabhas (State Assemblies). Starting with Karnataka, Kerala and theKarnataka State Archives. This prompted me to look at the TN legislative Assembly records. Did you know that TN has a unicamarel parliament? There is noupper sabha…no RS, no legislative council. You can see this happening here: at my profile. Vivek says that the Archive.org API can be better documented, upload speeds appear slow and collections can only be created by Admin. ...

Harsha captions a photo of himself: “Bhed ki sath bakra jaaraha” A huge cast-iron weighing scale to weigh logs A telephone pole appears to use an old cast-iron bollards/posts A family of pigs sleep near a nali and a natural drain. The Bidar City is building drains (hybrid as somebody coined it, both drainage and rainwater use the same drain here) to flow into this natural drain I have been facinated with Ram’s films. I have not liked a director so much to follow their trajectory so far. From Kattradhu Tamil and Taramani to Peranbu and Parandhu Po (both of which I watched this week). I will passionately wait to encounter some of these characters in my life. There is great care, love and patience in many of his characters. Some things I hope to be, some things that I hope nature bestows on me. ...

Release poster of Kattradhu Tamil Release poster of Taramani I watched Kattradhu Tamil, a film by director Ram. The last film of his I watched somehow troubled me less, for it had a unserious thread between the others that was being woven. Taramani but by no lesser means was equally troubling (It missed my then week’s note for some reason), and I am unable to place why women appear to be the intersectional victims of his commentary on globalisation, gentrification, and capitalism that appear in both films. I wonder what childhood memory I carry at all for me to remember in the hands of a person, like Ananthi appears to be for Prabhakaran. There is so much tragedy in Kattradhu Tamil, tragedy that numbs people, tragedy that makes people go crazy. I do not know if it is a tragedy that Ananthi and the Tamil Vaathiyar were the only love that he has had, so much that Prabhakaran goes in search of Ananthi to Savergaon (unclear if this is a real village), Sangamner, close to Pune. Or, I do not if it is more a tragedy to not have a someone to go in search of. Atleast in the end, Ananthi and Prabhakaran both found each other to go in search of Tony together… I wonder what the circumstances of the family were in Acchankovil for them to migrate all the way to a remote village in Maharashtra. Was this informed by a real account? I also wonder what schools were like in summer holidays then. For the tamil teacher to have stayed for just one student… and for a relationship to have been like that… No such relationship could exist now I think…but maybe, I hope that they do. ...

At the entrance of Kolar, I find this banner. In the possible decade that this banner has been up, the image of a Bulldozer/earthmover and the text ‘A great movement’ have acquired very many different meanings I realised after reaching the entry ramp to the Chennai - Blr expressway that bikes are banned. It was not enforced on the approach from bangalore, possibly because I entered it from the Satellite Town Ring Road. But I wonder what the value of banning bikes is, if the inability to maintain expressway speeds is the problem, why not ban bikes of a certain speed-power class? ...

The week rushes, through some amount of anxiety and masked existentialism. I realise that the only habit I’ve realised in the past few months is of escaping the city. I wake up to an empty home, complete with the all the remnants of an unwilling night. Unwilling because the only resident does not do anything willingly - he gives into Netflix, because it a captive companion in the house. He gives into a messy bed and cupboard, full with clothes of yesterday, the day before and a few from the week before. The bed even hosts diversity in cleanliness: the clean refuse to get folded, the unclean refuse to be washed until smelt: Bangalore’s weather gives me an excuse, and i wonder how my room would have looked like in Chennai… I could talk in Tamil, curse at my friends maybe, or maybe hangout without it being in a fancy Indiranagar equivalent. The local tea shop or a ride would be possible, but then my friends in Chennai don’t have a job yet, the few in blore do, making them freer. ...

I have been noticing closed wells in the city, and I wonder how differently these neighbourhoods were, when these borewells were initially constructed. A borewell, somewhere SFS 208, Yelahanka New Town I wrote about my ‘zest-lessness’ and my escapes with karmoda in biking to escape I drove to Chennai for what else would I be upto in bangalore? The new highway is empty, and the Satellite Twon Ring Road is helpfull. I can reach Yelahanka faster in the city than reach Annanagar in Chennai after I enter the city. The Poonamallee - Maduravoyal - Koyambedu stretch can be hot! ...

Chithhapa and L who had forgotten to bring her chappal In Akkaraipatti, I was visiting to have lunch with relatives who had prayed and sacrificed to Muniyappan in a Muniyappan Kovil by the bank of the Thirumanimuthhar (pronounced thiru-mani-muthh-aaru). My Chithhappa and his kid took us to show the river a bit more downstream from the Temple. I saw so many wells this side of Mallasamudram, that I’ve never noticed inside the Town. The Town is largely filled with weaving occupations, something I note with Paavadis in Weekly Note 15. Flowing to the brim and to the brim it has flowed for the past few years. It carries the sewage of Salem City and joins the Kavery later above Karur Another Muniyappan Kovil near the banks, I wonder how so many are there close to each other A well near the river, full with the rains. 1. The Muniyappan temple. 2. Photograph of Chithhapa and L. M says that all across the region, Kelangu, Rice etc have been replaced by Coconut in the last 50 years. Notice the scale of the Orchard east of the river. The Kaveri has apparently had the same happen upstream as well Driving back from Mallasamudram, I chose to forego and go visit Mettur. The initial plan was to enter Karnataka through Malai Mahadeshwara Betta, Kollegal and Kanakapura, but that would have made me very late, so I just chose to visit Mettur. I’ve never been there, but was surprised by how industrial the town is. ...

Bangalore has its skies returned from the kala of the karmodas. They will come back soon. Aruvu had its annual meeting, Aruvu turned a year sometime in April. It was a weekend of parties, of new homes and of new years. I have not danced this much in a year nor have I slept so well in many weeks. ...

It drizzled for sometime. It was cold for sometime and it was clear for sometime. It was an all pleasant evening all along from Channapatna to Nelamangla to Yelahanka this saturday. I had the privilege of maps that allowed me to take long, thin windy roads on hillocks and downhill from villages onto valleys. The jasmine tree in front of Aruvu fell We heard a sharp cracking sound, almost like the sound of thunder and then heard the tree hit the roof. The atleast 30 foot tall Jasmine tree in front of YNC fell. We were shocked and went out to realise that that the compund wall had taken most of the hit and the top was resting on the sloped roof of YNC. ...