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Life is a long, wondrous and continuous introduction to yourself.

The act of creation — it leads me to unknown places. Only to make me realize that all was known, always. And yet, I live every day with the hope that I’ll explore, create and grow into someone new. Because what’s life if not a long, wondrous and continuous introduction to yourself.

In this journey, music lives by my side. I find melody in my writing, and a lot of writing in my melodies. Sometimes, I hear songs in the bubbles of boiling tamarind water. Or in the stroke of red paint over the canvas. Or in the giggles of a child after a good joke. Tunes find their way even into my boredom, curiosity and the thoughts in between. And a rhythm taps into my sorrow, so it can take the leap to laughter.

Such is music. Such is life — yours and mine.

Hello!

The drive-through homes

“That’s a Honda…that’s a BMW…that’s a Subaru…”

The curiosity of the 3-year-old on our daily walks around the neighborhood amuses me. In the row of houses fenced by cars from the 60s to the next-gen Tesla, everything else fights for attention.

More than 30 years ago and across the seven seas that separate the North American continent from the Indian subcontinent, I grew up in the crowded, energetic city of Delhi. As a middle class family, we strived to move up in our lives every other year or so. So when, at last, we moved from a modest 1BR to our own 2BR apartment, my dreams of a fancy home began to shape up.

A small, hut-like structure with just enough space to play, cook, read and sleep, surrounded by green space and guarded by a 1 to 2-feet high white fence. The dwelling is in a lush-green, wooded area with many other homes. Each home has its own design and aura, based on the taste and lifestyle of those who live in it.

You would say where I live is close to this fantasy. Yes, every house looks like the other and shares at least a fence with the next house. But the place is filled with beauty — the view of Mt. Diablo from the north end of Avalon drive, the greenery of the hills behind highway-280, and the nurtured gardens of the houses.

Yet all of that is overshadowed by the autoshow — cars, trucks, boat-carriers and other four-wheeled vehicles — cropping out of every house. A third of the width of every street is taken up by the parking, and the sidewalk between these cars and the houses feels like a tunnel.

That tunnel walk filled me with a sense of confinement today, even though I was out in the open.

“Oh, look, a bird,” The 3-year old said.

Refreshed, I looked up, only to find that it was an old sculpture in one of the exposed front yards.

I did notice the solar lights that traced almost every walkway. It only added to my amusement — the eco-friendly solar lamps seemed like a statement of our mechanized dwellings.

Did we conserve our natural resources in these designs or did we trap ourselves in our manufactured lives, I wonder.

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lifeKavita Srinivasanwriting, prompts, walks