Two cars pass. The gap is there. I stay in eye contact with the driver of an autorickshaw and go with a steady pace to the centerstripes. I turn and observe the traffic coming from the left. Its a clear path and I quickly cross the lane. I enter the sidewalk. Passing an ATM with double security and a streetwendor where they sell butterfried corn. I pass the local bar and enter the optician.
As a Brigadeer, i.e. one who lives at the Brigade, you are a member of the club. A must for us residents. I was told that this membership, came with the apartment. I’d just meet up, show up the contract and so I would be “in”.
At the entrance of The WoodRose Club, I had to pass a silent guard, and a receptionist with an impeccable dress, which in addition is equipped with a serious critical eye.
India do not make a lot of cool stuff. But the few they have. And perhaps the coolest thing of them all is the Royal Enfield Motorcycle. Some advantages do India have, not to have hang on to all the world’s modernizations and fashion designs.
Royal Enfield was the brand of Enfield Cycle Company, an English engineering company. They were best known for the production of motorcycles, but they also produced bicycles, lawnmowers, stationary engines, and even parts of rifles for the Royal Small Arms Factory in Enfield Lock. This legacy of weapons manufacturers is reflected in the logo, a cannon, and their motto “Made like a gun, goes like a bullet”.
The Traffic in Bangalore never stops. The sounds reaches all the way up to my floor. Its non stop honking and the sound from some of the trucks, makes an extra effort. Everybody honks in the Indian traffic.
Toot-toot, dyyt-dyyt or Baaart. Whether you want to overtake, say hello, make aturn, hasten the man who is in front of you in the queue, warn other motorists of any danger or just honk because you are a little irritated.
Alas, I haven’t seen any really pissed off on the streets of Bengalore. They just go. Cars, motorcycles, scoters and auto-rickshaws finds their space. And glide on. Like life, like a river, they always find a way.
Its 8 o’clock in the evening and I’m standing in front of my utterly locked appartment door. The key fits and the cylinder turns. But the bolt doesn’t move. I shut my mouth and the cursing ends… I call the landlord, he comes over.
We talk, we try with a different key, but still… The lock remain stuck. Time passes fast and I have to get a room at the club. Noon, the next day. While waiting in the park, avoiding a couple of cows, drinking coffee with my landlord, we look up to the high-rise, at my appartment.
Its just about eight in the morning and I take a look at the landscape below. I’m having a coffee and its nice. A dense smog lies above the low houses underneath me. I can smell burnt wood and coal, as if I had been standing in a poor naighbourhood in London.
Close by, there is a grove, the smoke may be even thicker there. It must be the campfires for the people who live there, which make this dense, curtain of smoke. A mixture of fires for making food and fires for making their breakfast. Down the road, between motorcycles and scooters, I can see a couple of cows.
Yes, I do make the words of mr. Poe mine.
The web reveals poems, lyrics, verses, pictures, sex… Anything you are interested in, you will find it on the web. And here it is, the secret: What may look booring to you at first glance, might reveal a gem or two further down the page. Not everybody is top class writers, but most have their moments in time… If you give them the time and chance.
Soo… Look for the dream within a dream, it might be just what you are looking for…
Welcome to WordPress.com. This is my first post. I have edited it and I will not delete it and I have started blogging!
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![Four in a Row [Explored]](http://static.flickr.com/7018/6782703137_25b3b3b811_t.jpg "Four in a Row [Explored]")
