I talk, eat, sleep and also err ... blog?

Like children in school disciplined by the strict rules, we went through the many decades old Aurobindo Ashram’s main entrance ducking our heads, finger on our lips. There was a winding path dotted with meticulously arranged flower pots and a 20 feet cactus which somehow managed to still have most of its limbs or thorns was it? withstanding the recent storm that blew over the city leaving a mark on virtually every tree and billboard in the city. The cactus seemed like an unlikely victor. Unlikely was the stalk silence as we went deeper and deeper into the winding path. There were cranky old but alert men at every turn, guiding the line firmly but silently almost like those line men in a tennis match, waiting to raise their hand at the slightest hint of the ball skipping the line. There was no scope for a John McEnro here.   As we walked further to the tomb at the center of the portico, I saw a giggle, almost a muffled laughter desperately held on by the lips pressing each othe...