Celebrating random thoughts

Bubbling under ...

Sitting with a blank page in front of me, I'm wondering what to write about. You see, at any given time, there are these hundreds of threads running through my mind. Which one should I pen down? Most are half-formed wisps floating across. 

And that is how they stay until I try to pen one down, or one comes to mind while I'm having a pint with old friends, the kinds who know all my stories, everything that is happening at work and with life in general; the ones with whom most talk is unguarded, arbitrary and spontaneous.

Another time that these shadows take some shape is when I'm on a free stretch of the road on my bike - an Enfield's thump is adequately loud and low-tempo that it crowds all thoughts out of my mind. When there's no traffic running across, there is a comfortable space for me and my thoughts. They come, they go. And slowly, with no particular urgency, I putter along slowly, content with my thoughts. 

Usually these things are like my dreams. I remember them for a precious few moments, and then poof! Fortunately, once in a while these thoughts just bubble up and catch me off guard. It happened to me a couple of weeks ago - I got this question, what language do I think in? And what languages do my friends think in? One friend realized that while the regular stuff ran through his mind in his mother-tongue, more analytic stuff came up in English (we're all Macaulay's children, aren't we), and all his cursing came to him in Hindi (Delhi ki tehzeeb!).