“You look at where you’re going and where you are and it never makes sense, but then you look back at where you’ve been and a pattern seems to emerge.”
― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into

Tripods travel, though seldom alone.

The travelling tripod isn’t just about the travels of T, the tripod or I, the man. Together, it is about discovering and exploring. It says T is the better half and I completely agree. I cannot go anywhere without T, and neither can T.

I found T in the early winters of 2001, in Manipur. Where it learnt to walk like how everyone else already had. Manipur survived its own battles, with the British and the Japs, and so did it.

It saw this city of childhood fantasies. Toy trains, running over train tracks. Train tracks wrapped around mountains, like a snake around a branch.  Branches that dropped from windows, growing flowers among the green. Green, like the tea leaves, the city was famed for.

“Darjeeling”

 .. and life wasn’t the same anymore.

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