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. ...

I realise how far I am away from real things. Physical things. Things that give me joy. I never touch the road that carries my punctured cycle except when I fall. I never have to till the soil that gave me my soya chunks. I mostly never touch my wet waste. And I’m very far away from owning a piece of motor and two wheels that will accelerate me far away from the city on the weekends. ...

I’ve never read a novel quite like the Grapes of Wrath, it is set in Dust Bowl America, both the period and the geography. It describes and paints the market system we live in with such simple, gory detail, that it is haunting. It is a story I would rather not attempt to write about when it still occupies my mind so amorphously. For the time being, I quote from it: Men who can graft the trees and make the seed fertile and big can find no way to let the hungry people eat their produce. Men who have created new fruits in the world cannot create a system whereby their fruits may be eaten. And the failure hangs over the State like a great sorrow. ...