Strange that I should want to get away to some quiet place - considering that I live in nature. All the windows where I live look out at majestic raintrees. What makes me want to get away to some place that is quieter? Perhaps I let my professional life spill over. Perhaps the city of Bombay with its relentless industrial logic spills over. Perhaps the times that we live in spill over into my being and make me feel like "getting away". I remember my father's abode on the banks of a mighty river - humid and sultry in summer; green and fecund; oppressive and calming in turns. I could easily get away to that abode and yet I do not. Is this a nostalgic longing - gilded only when it exists as a longing?
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