“If you are bad, I’m your dad.” I’m officially declaring this as the motto of Sunday Slant.

Hello friend,

How are you? Good? Good.

I’d like to start on a light note… by quoting Nietzche:

Last week, I wrote about how I need to step out more and I have come to practise it this week, already. I went on an hour-long walk every evening this week and it felt amazing to say the least (and a little old-person-like). I listen to an audio book on the walk, and Sara wards off the webs the spiders spin (exclusively to trap us every evening) with a nifty little stick, walking right in front of me listening to her music.

We often had Gritz for company, a farm cat who picked and chose not only when he wanted to join us but also how far, and often took a detour mid-way only to reconvene with us our way back, pretending to have never left. He seemed to sway between being an overenthusiastic dog and couldn’t-give-a-damn cat; is he a metaphor for life?

Walking amidst the tall deciduous trees and meadows of this region let my mind wander aimlessly while I just observed my thoughts, as if I were watching a child run in those meadows… or Gritz, maybe. Am I’m romanticising a simple stroll? I don’t mean to, but yes. Is this the first time I’m going on a walk and experiencing this? No. There is something to be said about experiencing long walks amidst unfamiliar flora (and fauna, unfazed deers eating grass). There are no coconut trees or Supari trees (the flora I know) or curious stares and pleasantries from neighbours (the fauna I avoid). You and a meandering thought that can go to its logical or illogical conlcusion.

The trees are so tall with trunks so hardy, coming from a tropical region, you feel small and enveloped in a way you aren’t used to. This isn’t a tall building with the fancy glass facade that throws you off and makes you check your hair twice in any available reflection before you enter it, which can happen in any city in the world. This is the wilderness. No human built this or watered it or manicured it. You’ve had no contribution towards this magnitude. It just is.

There also is a small stream that runs by the path where, occasionally, a Great Blue heron wades in the water finding its dinner, but flies away upon sensing any movement—shy and majestic.

I always forget to bring a notepad along. I get the best ideas on a walk; it’s a cliché. Pulling your phone out to note-take is not the same, because the phone seems to have its own agenda, despite me turning off all notifications. You open with an intention to do one thing and end up completely lost. Here, you don’t need a screen to be lost.

I look forward to being lost like this every evening.

Until next Sunday,

Sumeru

Thoroughly enjoyed eating this delicious homemade raspberry weed chocolate. That’s right. Ganja. Mary Jane. Or the cross-cultural maal. Homemade. Legal hits different. (This one barely hit though.)

✨ Next Sunday Slant should be fun. I look forward to it.