Kathy pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose rather clumsily with the back of her wrist. They had become loose and seemed to keep sliding off her rather tiny nose. It was particularly frustrating on these summer days when everything that touched her skin was too hot. The plastic frames felt heavy and the relentless moistness of the little pearls of sweat wedged beneath them really annoyed her. She couldn't understand why her parents wouldn't buy her contact lenses even after all her attempts to demonstrate why it was logically imperative that she have them. She sat crouched against a wall, under the asbestos shed in the tiny room on their terrace that they had built to house all those unused odds and ends that had long lost their place in her home.

There was a rusty fan that she had found in the clutter, the first time she had tried to make space for herself there. It whirred a little too loudly and always gave away where she was. Not that it mattered, because for the most part, they left her alone. But she liked being lost to another space and time when she was reading and the whirring dragged her out of that world every so often. She did like to stare at it while she mulled however, the revolving blades hypnotic, almost dulling. Twirling idle strands that fell on her face, she would lose herself to a reverie, slipping in and out between make believe worlds and dusty reality.

She unfixed her gaze and looked down to her book. It had a lovely soft leather cover, a deep red hide. The kind you had to pay a lot of money to buy these days. She held a finger carefully between the pages to mark her place as she surveyed the gold lettering, bold and antiquated, etched into the leather. Closing her eyes, she ran her finger over the grooves and indentations of the title - Lord Of The Flies.

Reality

I'm back in madras. I rarely get the time to be online. And if I do, it's only been to communicate with someone specific. It's such a change from the last two years when I was plugged in nearly 24x7.

There is so much to say, so much has transpired, so many revelations struck. But I need to catch my breath. It might take a while to get back into the groove of posting - I have been writing, just not online. And somehow, strangely, I like that it's not been for any audience at all.

But I miss my blog too. So here I am, back, if only to say this :

If you are in Madras, and are free this weekend, you really should consider watching Theatre Y's production of the Manjula Padmanabhan play 'Reality' at Alliance Francaise.

I've only just got back after watching it. I went to cover it for a local magazine (I've just begun to freelance) and am quite blown away - both by the content and the quality of the performance. The passion of the players shines through. A couple of them give spectacular performances. The play itself is serious, intense and mature for the most part with dashes of comic relief and dollops of satire. I won't say any more now because I'm yet to write my review. Suffice it to say it'll be glowing.

There are four shows a day both Saturday and Sunday. If you can spare a couple of hours, I urge you, Go watch!!!