Rarely does one sit to write an obituary with a pleasant mind, but one should also realize that an obituary may well be reminiscent of the good times, once the inevitable has happened. Hey, but was it inevitable...
A bead quite unknown dropped from an UFO into the shadow of the crown - result of some scribbling on a green paper and a rendezvous with three panelists. This bead fell for a certain 'Yes sir' from the first bench and soon the wooden, dusty racks of the library illuminated us in a pair. Enlightening people on making culinary delicacies more delightful was an interesting proposition. Time in the formative years meandered its way sluggishly through the red bricks. With time, an island was gradually washed into being.
The humble beginnings matured through the hours spent on those sprawling sun-bathed lawns, windy corridors, musically lit rooms, aromatic jungles and the cobbled canopied alleys. The seasons that ensued were truly seasons of the sun. The bead was gradually solvated. It had an identity and - an identity almost always has a name.
Maggi, Mince, Mukwest aided in comprising the rosary. The bead never realized when the scissors threatened to make its mark on the string that held them together, worse still - the possibility of such a situation was never taken into account. Certain beads realized and made a sincere yet unintelligible effort to stall the damage. And, as often happens in a natural selection, the discolored bead found itself out of place. It never found out how it lost its color but realized that it was jeopardizing the beauty of the rosary. It budded out. A solitary bead is as good as a grain of sand.
The name remained...its identity lost midway through. Good bye ......
Carbide
N. B. - Buffered en route to Bangalore, aboard 2627 Karnataka Express and blogged on an interesting day of sorts, three years down the line!!
The humble beginnings matured through the hours spent on those sprawling sun-bathed lawns, windy corridors, musically lit rooms, aromatic jungles and the cobbled canopied alleys. The seasons that ensued were truly seasons of the sun. The bead was gradually solvated. It had an identity and - an identity almost always has a name.
Maggi, Mince, Mukwest aided in comprising the rosary. The bead never realized when the scissors threatened to make its mark on the string that held them together, worse still - the possibility of such a situation was never taken into account. Certain beads realized and made a sincere yet unintelligible effort to stall the damage. And, as often happens in a natural selection, the discolored bead found itself out of place. It never found out how it lost its color but realized that it was jeopardizing the beauty of the rosary. It budded out. A solitary bead is as good as a grain of sand.
The name remained...its identity lost midway through. Good bye ......
Carbide
N. B. - Buffered en route to Bangalore, aboard 2627 Karnataka Express and blogged on an interesting day of sorts, three years down the line!!
2 comments:
there are very few people who will understand this blog... considering that the other beads might not even read it. But I guess all I can say, is I will write too... about it.. one day.. that day..
I shall wait for 'that day'
Carbide...
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