a Journey

Resistance is beautiful

Saw the quote in a shop whose owner hadn’t cut his dreadlocks in a decade. Tripping in Arab St was a lovely affair as always: quirky characters, intelligent observations, and sugar-smooth PR replies, angst of some who have been marginalized and wincing truth of the reality of business… twas the street last night.

This will be one of the few places I’ll truly miss when I leave; maybe because it has not been sucked into the vortex of android-perfection where everyone’s into the culture of being busy. 

This is an enclave where people sit on the streets to eat on foldable plastic chairs and tables, chatting under the stars instead of fluorescent lighting. Owners have distinctive cuisines and faces and names; beyond differentiating between names of the eating establishments alone. 

Perhaps this place will soon be over-run by the impending wave of glassy air-conditioned shops, touting wares of perfection. But even so, resistance is beautiful even if the fight is lost. Because at least the war was fought.