The only band listening to whom I feel an overpowering sense of mystery and magic, I've concluded, is The Doors. Deer women in silk dresses, moaning radios, woolly cotton brains of infancy and Oedipus. Even after a decade of first exploring the band, going through an album of The Doors is a thoroughly Shamanistic experience. Kilos of Respect.

In other news, India winning an away series against England on the eve of Independence Day has an increasingly unprecedented patriotic flavor to it. Very much looks like this is a season of right-place-right-time. I felt particularly 'friendly' this Friendship Day holidaying with the gang at Wayanad.

Cheerio!