You know what, they (don't ask me who "they" are) say that a picture can speak a thousand words. Now, the other best friend is a brilliant photographer and I have been across some brilliant pictures of his, and others. I like to believe that I take ok-ok pictures too. So ask me about the power of pictures and I could tell you my two-bit opinion. Now, I know all that, but somehow, it is nothing compared to the memories you get.

I went to the best friend Raksha's house today, newly married girl and all that. As is our practice, we talked too much and I forgot to check the time and ended up horribly late in the office. Also, as usually, I was out taking pictures of both of us, precariously holding my mobile (I DON'T like the camera in E71) at a distance, trying several angles, exasperating her, again as always.

And so one of the good ones has landed up on my mobile wallpaper. It has us showing all our teeth and giggling. I love the picture but it comes no where close to that moment, and many such, where there we are, laughing over something downright silly, cribbing about everything but ourselves ;-) and being girls. No matter how good the picture, it can never capture moments, the sounds and the smells and the whole moment that buries itself soon in the banter of everyday life, in the folds of pages that you live through.

You visit a place, a lovely range of mountains, a brook, a whatever that catches your fancy. For me, no picture can be equal to the memory of me being there, the people I was with, the moments.

It was good, being with the girl friend. Sometimes there is no better mood-lifter than talking to the girl friends.

That apart, Rishi sir told me how to use the Google transliteration tool. It is so super cool for the me who can't type otherwise in my own mother tongue. I was also humming the lines below, apart from several others. Here's a little secret: I hum or sing a lot all day long, I need music when I am working at home and I do love music of strange kinds. (Not that this 'secret' should make any dents to your lives!)

ಅತ್ತಾರೆ ಅತ್ತು ಬಿಡು ಹೊನಲು ಬರಲಿ

ನಕ್ಯಾಕ ಮರಸತಿ ದುಃಖಾ

ಎದೆ ಬಿಡಿಸಿ ಕೆಡವು, ಬಿರಿಗಣ್ಣು ಬ್ಯಾಡ

ತುಟಿ ಕಚ್ಚಿ ಹಿಡಿಯದಿರು ಬಿಕ್ಕ

Roughly translated it means:

Cry, if you have to, why do you try to forget pain by laughing, open your heart, don't keep your eyes wide open, don't suppress the cries with a bite on your lips.

Immortal lines, written by the Kannada poet Dattatreya Ramachandra Bendre. And but of course, the translation does no justice to the original.

Sometimes, it would be nice to just let yourself go. Cry. Smiling would be easier then, I suppose.