There was this Ace of Base song that was very popular when my sister was a teenager and I was on my way there. It was called “The Sign” and I remember we had a friend of the family staying with us for a while and she used to perform this energetic thrusting dance to it – I believe i was called stumping. It was quite a sight since she was quite…er…voluptuous. Anyway, the song says, I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes; which was then extended to some boy-girl thing and how to save it or end it or something.

The reason it popped into my head (apart from the 15 seconds of goggle-eyed distraction at the memory of said girl stumping) was because, on the way home today I said to The Roommate in the auto: I wish I had a sign. As I said the words I realised that well, signs are kind of redundant anyway, since they are about 90% interpretation. Remember my signs in the past? And how they ended? So I’m a little ahem cynical about this whole sign theory.

But I can’t deny it is tempting.

I would love to know that this place I’m at in my life, right here and right now, with its joys and sorrows and immense frustration, is somewhere on the right road. I wish it were as easy as this morning, when I made a turn off the highway, stuck my head out the window and said: “Sagar road?” to a nice man, who nodded and jerked his head in the direction I wanted to go. Isn’t there a shared auto driver on this road who can reassure me, so that I know no matter how many potholes on this road, and how unkempt it is; no matter that the lights don’t work and there is so much roadkill; I will end up at the majestic dam, with its twenty-six gates of energy and enthusiastically flow downriver to the sea?

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