No name.

Kasargod, a small town in north Kerala, was my destination. And I wanted to be there at exactly in between 4 and 5. PM. In theory, the light during that time is the best: it’s soft, dense and so full of life. I wished for one more thing; to have a rain while I was there. So my overall wish was to see Bekal fort in the evening with a slight drizzle.

And if the dream was realized, I promised myself photos which captured my caption – loneliness and me.

I was not alone. But then there was nobody with me also.

And nuisance of English language is that even though pragmatics allowed many words that I could coin out, semantics restated that it would be just lonely.

As soon I stepped into the fort, it started drizzling, as if welcoming me.

The fort transpired another side of it, from being bastion of defense; it showed me its tender side of veiled love and serenity. If there was anything that I could describe as beautiful, it was that.

My camera clicked from the moment I entered, effortlessly and incessantly. One after the other frame of the same story was written and re written in those clicks. There were families, friends, couples, and kids. They had come Sunday outing, to bask in the sun and then to have bath in the sea. I wish I too hadn’t come alone. But then I wouldn’t have been happy otherwise too. A companion, my friend had once told me, was there to talk about things which would seem silly but later on is what you would judge as life.

I climbed to one of the old outpost overlooking the sea, and sat there. Behind me, I heard laughter of some happy couple. Even though it was my first trip there, countless dreams of me picturing just the way I was, came flashing to me.

I smiled. May be this is my life.