I was reading Kafka on the Shore,
at a coconut groove in Kanyakumari.

It was very windy, cloudy and just so perfect.
Amidst the sounds of the wind, if I try really hard
I could hear the waves crashing on the rocks
or was I imagining the ocean and the waves?
I am not sure, because as I said
I was reading Kafka on the Shore.
Time and reality behave strangely
when you read Kafka on the Shore.

The book is beautifully weird, just like us.

Hmm... I wish I had a getaway like Oshima's cabin.
I wish I lived at a quaint cosy library like Komura Memorial Library.

I wish...
I wish...

But then I remember,
I am not as brave as Kafka Tamura.
I was definitely not the bravest kid in the world when I was 15.
Nor am I the bravest person in the world even now.
Maybe not yet, I tell myself hopefully.