The eternal gypsy

She's the small girl with the big appetite for the sights and sounds of nature. As much in love with the little snail on a thorn as with the pink water lillies in the shallow pools along the roads of Puri. She remembers the fragrance of pine-cones in the cool hills as freshly after a decade as she did on the first day. And she doesn't think it has anything to do with good memory. It had to do with imprints on the hungry mind.

Hungry, greedy, she craves and cannot get enough...

The hills call out to her and so does the desert. The ocean is what she believe will someday claim her for it is her true love.

She cannot look away from the languid bend of the rivers she passes along her journey through the hinterlands. As the car drives her away, she looks back as if parting from a lover. Picture after picture of water under the bridges she passes over. Confused looks from those who say they know her. What does she see in them? She has no answers ready for none are at the surface.

She never wanted to visit Ayodhya but did. And loved it. And now, for some strange inexplicable reason, she's craving to visit Benaras. Also Lumbini.

She has the heart of a nomad and someday hope to say the same for her shoes.

She belongs everywhere and yet nowhere in particular

She envies the birds for their wings

Her name means sand

That which is never away from the sea, river or desert. That which you cannot hold on to. That which always slips away...