Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Ever tried sitting pillion the other way round? Is damn good fun, the world does a whirly-jig and everything seems right all over again.

I retraced old paths, brick by brick, stone by stone.
Climbed up the water tank (sans parental permission of course), ran down the slope, balanced on the rickety stile and stuck my head through the bars of the jungle-gym. Smiled non-stop as I spied old loves, old hates, old 'doesn't matter' peeping through faded time. How did I ever find the courage to leave all this?

Saw the entire industrial complex all over again. This used to be my backyard. The smells and the sounds and the tankers and the trucks. It always seemed like I would end up working in one of these. Be a part of the great Indian industrial revolution. Instead I ended up in what a friend refers to as the elusive 'tertiary' strata of the occupational hierarchy. Somewhere that still bothers me no end. My father has always worked in industry. He puts in long hours of work in the living breathing backbone of a textile plant. I know what he makes. I can see, touch and taste (not advisable) dimethyl teryphthalate.
What do I do?

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