Rickshaw Writings
Being stuck in a rickshaw in nice weather results in *confused frustration noises* sounding about in my head. I am late for a very important appointment. But the green trees are a pleasure to look at. I’m going to spend a lot of money on this ola ride. But the sound of drizzle is enchanting. The jam makes me swear every second second. But the glistening surfaces all about make me smile after every swear. I’m perfectly stuck to write something. At this age, finding metaphors when one is stuck in traffic is adult’s play, but the same carries its own pains: That you are not stuck in life i.e. the traffic will clear, you are actually in motion. Then there’s the pain of reliving ‘wrong decisions’ or blaming Circumstance. Why the fuck did the CM have to travel by road? Then there’s the pain of accepting being stuck but making the most of it. Like trying to write when stuck in traffic. And then there’s of course giving up and allowing the rickshaw to take its own time and course. A