It's that time of the year in B'Lore when those lilac-coloured flowers appear on the branches of those trees that bear them. Yeah, you guessed right. I have no clue as to what they are called, or their species or biological family or their gender. All I know is that they are some sort of avenue trees - the politically correct name for trees that have been left to tend for themselves on the sides of the road. These lilacish-coloured flowers carpet the roads in the morning and, though I have not actually seen this, I am sure they would present a very pretty sight early in the morning when the slanted rays at dawn filter through the leaves onto the ground. They are a pretty sight even when the world has awakened to chaos. The wonderful thing is that they seem to be everywhere. They are like the omnipresent song of spring and they manage to bring a smile to my yet-to-awaken face. Every single day.

There are so many such teeny-weeny little things about Bangalore. No wonder I'm so in love with this place.

It wasn't often that someone offered him a word. It had been years since anyone had spoken to him even a few sentences let alone half-hour's worth of them. His lips moved only to talk to the innate silence that was in him. He spoke to the earth, he spoke to the wind. He even spoke to the trees when they caught his fancy. He never wondered why he heard no replies. He never worried that no humans ever wished to talk to him. He liked to be his own companion in conversation. Naturally he had been caught off-guard when the man in the car addressed him out of the blue. He had looked around to be sure that it was indeed him that the man in the car had called out to. He had said, "Sir?", with the little question mark added at the end with an inflection. Sir, indeed!

The man had invited him to have coffee with him at the store across the road. He was dressed in a pair of old blue comfortable jeans and a black tee. Unlike him, the man looked perfectly in place within the coffee shop. In the last thirty minutes, the man had spoken to him and listened to the story of his life with an honest interest. The man had recognised him inspite of the shrivelled skin and the badly nicked bald head. He offered his teacher a place to live, or die when the time came, in peace. He claimed that his teacher had been the first step in his ladder. The first, sure, strong step that now defined his career, his success and his life. It was now time to ensure that this demi-god was at peace and he had come to claim his right to do that.

The teacher stared at the student he couldn't remember. His memories had long before been strangled out of existence. He wondered at the godliness of this man he had once taught. He felt proud of that. He stood up and thanked the man for his respect and his care. He took his cane and made his way out. This conversation would now enable him to sanely live with the silence for a long time to come. That was all he needed in life. That was all he wanted to be thankful for.

I was out on a mission this saturday, to experience drunkenness. I don't mean to brag but I was hell bent on finding out what it felt like. As luck would have it, a friend's treat was on and nine of us headed to purple haze. I didn't like the ambience of the place, but the rock they played was good enough for my tastes. The scary thing was that inspite of this being my first time, I felt nothing even after 4 shots of scotch. Nothing, almost nothing. I guess I was an alcoholic even before I started to drink. All I felt had to do more with the music than the alcohol. With a dozen heads banging around, I just couldn't resist and got into the neck straining excercise. Now, I don't know about getting drunk but there is nothing that can beat a bit of head-banging to flush out any frustration that's coursing through you. Anyway, time was running out cos the others were already on their last few sips and gulps. I was not going to give up on my mission and as a last ditch effort, I downed a fifth whiskey in a single gulp. That did the trick and I arrived. Not piss drunk but drunk nonetheless. Strangely, except for a bit of haze, it didn't change my perception drastically. None of the lose-all-control things were happening to me. The closest thing I did was to repeat a few gems of unasked for advice a few times. I was either going about it the wrong way or I have way too much alcohol resistance for a beginner.

Footnote: "Why all this?", you ask. To spite myself and my self-righteousness. Until now, as a matter of principle, I stayed away from these vices inspite of there being ample opportunity not to. Now I realise that it is pointless to try and be self-righteous.

P.S: It is entirely my opinion that drinking is a vice and so are many other things.