And what I see is an aberration.

The picture is an old experiment that was gone wrong. Now it has turned out to be useful this way -

• So I need to wear glasses after all. The ophthalmologist dropped dilating potion into my eyes; in a while I could no longer see the pretty face clearly; everything around softened, blurred, finally lost the edges to merge into streaks of light. That stayed for a few hours. All the while - when walking back to home, trying to recognize things that come across, trying not to bump against people and lamp posts, while wishing I could read something instead of lying on my back - I felt thankful for this gift of vision, the ability to look around, to observe, to hold a book in the hands, to read it.


• Quick roundabout on road - Bangalore, Mysore, Gopalaswamy Betta, Bylakkuppe, back to Bangalore, Hyderabad and Secundarabad, again back to Bangalore - in six days. And now here I am at the workplace, on a fine Sunday evening. Damn this, why does JS_GetStringBytes() return undefined occasionally?


• Last week, came across this caucasian woman at Commercial Street - she wore a kurta, had mehndi on her palms, maybe a bindi on her forehead, and a thoroughly fascinated look on her face. Maybe she was meeting her India. I too was fascinated by the Deepavali and Ramzan crowd, but didn't had a camera with me. But that look in her eyes and the crowd deserved to be a photograph :-/

(Title of this post is stolen from Monet Refuses the Operation, Lissel Mueller's wonderful poem that showed up in minstrels list sometime back.)