It was in late 80's that I watched Rock Hudson in Come September, then I did not know that he was gay, I drooled at his curly locks and soulful eyes and a wee bit vulnerable smile.
The September memories have faded with the awe of romance but ,come Spring
even the most dejected soul in New York awakens to the hood-less cars and dandy men with dark glasses, blaring music and well dusted bronze hair!
Just the other day it was all murky and phobic with the temperatures still in low 40's, but suddenly on Thursday it hit the all new high!. The magic of spring ! the whole landscape changes with trees budding, Flowers beaming, rows of yellow wines wildly dancing it is so exotic that one forgets spitzer's infidelities and Clinton's race
and the new governor's confessions . It is a new season, new passion and a new reason.

The Indian mornings were always associated with a collage of sounds, sweepers,chirpers, hawkers and hagglers but here for almost seven months we hear the silence of snow fall and winter but now since the days are becoming warmer , one is getting to hear the lawn movers, landscapers and construction workers- hammering on the roof tops.

The parks, where not a soul whispered,grass was dead and trees were solemn , lakes were sombre, have awaken to the laughter of the little ones and blue  clear skies, rowing boats and speeding bicycles and fisher men with hooks. Soon the moths will follow blinking their lights...

* i gotta run
byee