Bozoical Life Seasons...

You don't need to know the properties of glass to reflect. Bozo , Mumbai's only dog-with-his-own-blog knows that , as a Holy Book said, "for everything in life there is a season".

There is a season for racing in gardens, there is a season for sprucing up on your way to meeting Luci (of Thiruvananthapuram) for lunch,  there is a season for growling and cribbing, there is a season for hankering after fancy accessories and there is a season for thinking and ruminating about life....

Unlike us bipeds, who are experts at mismatching seasons to activities, Bozo thinks there is something to what the book says.

We guys
may not make
a song and a dance about it,
but we too have
summer,
winter
and monsoon fashions,
and preferred colors and stuff.

Unlike
some unimaginative bipeds
we guys really don't prefer golden blondes
à la Lassie....

It's more about being
a smart chocolate brown
or a butterscotch cream
with streaks of color
or even a shining military black....

As for me,
I'm beyond mundane stuff
like colors
and am more into accessories
like my smart
personalized London collar,
my casual blue one,
and my
impressive harness.

There has always been
a big long
shiny thing
in the house,
in which
I see and admire myself
when I wear this stuff.

But,
It's when
the sun sets,
dinner is over,
windows closed against mosquitoes,
and the lamp shines,
that
I restlessly move,
till I see a hint of myself
emerge from behind a curtain
in the glass,
and you know what,
that's
when I see
deep into my mind,
and thank God
for my amazing life ! 

Age does not wither .....

Some folks have a special eye for visuals. Be they of landscapes, beaches, animals, decorations, food, and sometimes, even people. See all his work here.

One such below, that brought back some memories of a friend's mother, who lived with her in Mumbai, returned to her native land a few years ago, but is now no more.


(photo by Kavi Arasu)

Kolam
at the door,
and she appears,
with a
genuine
toothless smile,
vibhuti*** on forehead,
as you enter
her home
with her daughter-in-law.

Mumbai
doesn't
overpower her,
she takes it in her
slightly bent,
but brave stride....

And she
bequeaths you
a welcoming nod,
asks her
daughter-in-law
something in her language,
smiles at you
going in;
to emerge again
amidst aromas
of coffee,
and
homemade banana chips.

She bids
you get comfortable,
then settles down
by a seat at the window;
looks up
at the building
next door
rising to the skies;
hands pointing,
she beams,
and
you don't need
any language
to know
that it's a proud Mom,
pointing to the big office
in Mumbai,
of her favorite son....

*** Vibhuti : sacred ash from worship/puja