My latest pasttime.

Viewing other people's blogs has become my latest pasttime.I am so involved in this.....that it has almost become an overpowering obsession.

Apart from the few blogs that I have ear-marked for a daily visit,there are those that I stumble upon.....serendipitously.Reading them is like stepping into a new world..or worlds rather.For all of them are different,in some way or the other.Different authors,different contents,different styles of writing,different parts of the world.....

There are those that I envy for their lucid writing styles,for their clarity of thoughts or creative wrting skills.And then there are those that really suck, full of useless recipes and useless family gossip that makes no sense to anybody else.

But what the heck! However bad the language,however boring its contents,nobody can deny that a blog is its owner's own little nook in this huge world,truly personal;to do with it as one pleases,to express,to rant ,to vent,to be creative,to revel in and to obsess about.

"A bad land to cross..."

The French trappers who traversed these lands called them a "a bad land to cross".The Lakota Indians called it 'makoce sica' meaning 'land bad'.However,in this age of powerful SUVs that eat up the miles and coolers stuffed with coke and bottled water,South Dakota's 150 miles of arid terrain known as the Badlands no longer seem to live up to their name.

We made the trip to South Dakota last weekend.Picklu and Shubhro had come down from Nashville and Boston....and together we made this little weekend jaunt.The first day we visited Mt Rushmore...but it was a disillusioning visit.The four presidential heads carved into the hill-side is such an oft-seen image that the real thing failed to arouse any particular emotions in any of us.Rather,as we were driving back with plans to visit the Badlands the next day ,Shonu was suddenly inspired to see them by the light of the setting sun,and this impromptu detour took us to the midst of that vast,arid,fierce stretch of nature known as the Badlands.

What a magnificent sight it was1That first glimpse of those hills,carved out into myriad shapes by millions of years of winds and flowing water,now coloured a pinkish hue by the dying sun simply took out breath away.The next morning we returned afresh,ready to experience and explore.We drove through miles and miles of hills ;sometimes pinnacled,sometimes table-tops, through gullies and ravines,between rocks with layers of colors showing through.We drove on gravelled roads through prairie lands that seem to have remain unchanged from the time that the Lakota Indians must have passed here.We stopped in a little town that seems to have been lifted straight out of Clint Eastwood's Westerns.And we oohed and aahed at the deer and mountain goats that darted,with little puzzled looks across our paths.


But more often than not,we were too awe-struck...by nature's handiwork.By the sheer beauty of this rugged and stark terrain.By the feeling of Time having come to a standstill in this corner of the world.By the feelings of inconsequence that were aroused in us when we look upon these hills ,monuments to the eternity and ultimate supremacy of Mother Nature.