Goa / Escape routes The path was so pretty he knew it would be a dead end. It was six in the morning and he had crept out of bed without making a sound when she was still sleeping. A few months ago he had opened the windows of their hotel room in Pondicherry waking her and she had given him hell. It was a sunny ten and he wanted to fly his drone before the harsh light of noon. Yes, she was taking medication for depression and bipolarity and
Riding through a manufacturing belt has its rewards – the roads are laid out like duvets, nary a wrinkle; crouch a bit low into the wind and you can open throttle till your heart reaches your mouth. But there is a price to pay – vast swathes of the landscape, what would have once been picturesque, are windowless concrete warehouses or manufacturing hubs with all the scenic value of toppled matchboxes. ‘You can’t have it all’ you console yourself and thole on, racing the wind. Dawdling trucks of unending lengths
