I first wrote this piece ages ago. Today, I revisit and repost it—with a little help from Artificial Intelligence! :-)

I have four pet snails. I don’t particularly adore snails, but perhaps they’re a quiet philosophical confession — a mirror of my present life: slow, withdrawn, almost apologetic. I could’ve bought fish, restless and kinetic, but I chose creatures that inch along like time itself here. Hyderabad moves at a snail’s pace — especially the Old City, where life often feels like a Sisyphean struggle amid narrow thinking and stubborn attitudes. Stray dogs, lurking dangers, and neighborhoods prone to chaos add to the weight. I’m not being snobbish — I still cherish the city’s heritage — yet I feel a deep sadness about what surrounds me.

As for life now: searching for a bride, rereading Vikram Seth, battling roaches and lizards like minor wars, reinventing mousetraps, nudged into blogging by my niece, and coexisting with Sona — a miniature wildcat who treats me like prey. Home alone, haunted by this place, allergic to television, oddly fond of scarecrows — life swings endlessly between hope and despair.

Amongst My Own: I first wrote this piece ages ago. Today, I revisit and repost it—with a little help from Artificial Intelligence! :-)

I feel most at ease among my own. Blue-collar workers—vendors, laborers, peddlers—are my comfort zone. Labels like upper, middle, or lower class don’t really matter to me.

Ragpickers, rickshaw pullers, auto drivers—I naturally connect with people who are underprivileged.

I count my blessings, especially when I think of people with physical or mental disabilities.

Chai, conversation, companionship—and yes, cigarettes.

Wealthy people, on the other hand, make me uneasy.

I first wrote this piece ages ago. Today, I revisit and repost it—with a little help from Artificial Intelligence! :-)

My Soulmate: An Unfinished Quest

Here, my spirit rests.

La isla bonita — a sacred chant.

Each breath tastes of ecstasy,

memories glowing like burning prayer.

Her voice — unseen, eternal,

circling my soul in yearning.

Her eyes speak truths unsaid,

guiding seekers to destiny.

Emeralds and rubies mirror paradise,

she turns illusion into belief.

Here, my spirit rests.

La isla bonita — the song of return.

She is the one — pearl of light, ruby of love,

my amulet, my surrender, my song.