Some poetry and a lot of pain

On the morning of 17th February (it wasn't afternoon -- of that I am sure) one of the dumb bells I exercise with (once in a while) fell on my left hand.

Nothing broken thankfully (especially not the dumb bell), but my hand really ballooned up in a big way. To look like a bear's paw and become equally unwieldy.

Typing was a pain, holding onto a book was a pain, putting on a shirt was a pain, and so on...

I did manage to cycle around (the motorcycle's clutch lever is on the left handlebar; will try clutching it tomorrow and hope that I don't pass out from pain) and though jolts of pain shoot up when I put the left hand on the handlebars, the joys of moving on are worth it.

Incidentally, on the evening of 16th I was cycling after posting up Memory's Scythe here and it rained and rained and rained, making things more than a bit dicey for me since my clothes (I was wearing a Kurta and baggy cotton cargoes) soaked up all the waters and made cycling back home really heavy going.

Coincidentally (I mean this in an eerie way), I had been similarly soaked (and caught up in a 4 hours long traffic jam somewhere near SR Nagar on my way back home) when I had written Unslept.

Eerie, no?

Maybe I shouldn't complain about the rains not raining too much :-)