Friday, 26 January 2007
Cambridge is beautiful. That is perhaps the best and simplest way to say it. And yes, the weather just decided to be a gracious host and let me have a wonderful time. The accompanying conversation of course made me realise the vestiges of Bristish rule that have been immortalised within Bengali culture. All in all, a fantastic experience.
Punting on the Cam, of course, still needs to be done and shall be done when it is warmer and the company even better!
Right now, however, is a time of certain uncertainties and certain certainties. But damn the uncertainties for making the certainties uncertain! Ha!
I was just wondering about my profile on this blog. What do you write in "About me"? Well, I think the question peeves me because I have been asked the same thing in countless interviews... "So tell me about yourself?" And then, like a keyed musical box, I put on a fake gentle-smile and rattle off in a voice that grates against my own ears (maybe that's why part of my brain switched off) about inconsequential and obscure nothings which are met with apparently understanding nods, hems and haws.
Lets think of Cambridge again - it is so much better. '...bridges that might have been the haunts of so many uncelebrated lovers'. Wonder how I framed that. Feels golden.
Punting on the Cam, of course, still needs to be done and shall be done when it is warmer and the company even better!
Right now, however, is a time of certain uncertainties and certain certainties. But damn the uncertainties for making the certainties uncertain! Ha!
I was just wondering about my profile on this blog. What do you write in "About me"? Well, I think the question peeves me because I have been asked the same thing in countless interviews... "So tell me about yourself?" And then, like a keyed musical box, I put on a fake gentle-smile and rattle off in a voice that grates against my own ears (maybe that's why part of my brain switched off) about inconsequential and obscure nothings which are met with apparently understanding nods, hems and haws.
Lets think of Cambridge again - it is so much better. '...bridges that might have been the haunts of so many uncelebrated lovers'. Wonder how I framed that. Feels golden.
Saturday, 13 January 2007
Guitar strings, piano chords, Elvis, Elton, Eric... some harmony! The day begins to darken outside, as pin pricks of window lights flicker on one by one. Harmony.
I am beginning to discover the labyrinthian existence of blogs. There are those which will talk of the colour of underwear, the taste of yesterday's lunch or abstractions that bring splashes of rainbow colours to mind. There are pained souls, lusting minds or nostalgic memories. It is a world by itself, with it's own set of the biazzare and the boring.
In fact, it is a reflection of the world that we pass by everyday... a mirror. Just that here we don't see them - their clothes, the dogs that they take out for walks, the shopping bags that they carry, the ring of their laughter. Here there are just the thoughts - free of the physical being, the constraints of the body. And they take flight with the wind of freedom beneath their wings.
Actually, it takes a little getting-used-to. So tuned the senses are to fences that when they cease to exist the senses are a tad bit overwhelmed. (I don't know why but suddenly it feels like being able to open you eyes under water in a swimming pool, where you can just see peoples' legs instead of their faces and the world seems to have turned a hazy - slightly chlorinated - blue!)
So here's to the new world with uncountable colours - a little hazy (with chlorine?) - populated with thoughts-without-faces!
I am beginning to discover the labyrinthian existence of blogs. There are those which will talk of the colour of underwear, the taste of yesterday's lunch or abstractions that bring splashes of rainbow colours to mind. There are pained souls, lusting minds or nostalgic memories. It is a world by itself, with it's own set of the biazzare and the boring.
In fact, it is a reflection of the world that we pass by everyday... a mirror. Just that here we don't see them - their clothes, the dogs that they take out for walks, the shopping bags that they carry, the ring of their laughter. Here there are just the thoughts - free of the physical being, the constraints of the body. And they take flight with the wind of freedom beneath their wings.
Actually, it takes a little getting-used-to. So tuned the senses are to fences that when they cease to exist the senses are a tad bit overwhelmed. (I don't know why but suddenly it feels like being able to open you eyes under water in a swimming pool, where you can just see peoples' legs instead of their faces and the world seems to have turned a hazy - slightly chlorinated - blue!)
So here's to the new world with uncountable colours - a little hazy (with chlorine?) - populated with thoughts-without-faces!
Thursday, 4 January 2007
There would be some, perhaps, who would say that you should not begin a new year by looking into the past, but by looking at the future. But a string of songs today brought back an image which was... I am not sure what really, but it brought back a lot of things.
Manna Dey was singing on my laptop - "Dil ka haal sune dilwala" - when a lap-lit evening formed itself in my mind. It was one of the innumerable lap-lit evenings that formed my childhood. A warm, yellow, dim glow spread through the house. The air hot and humid most of the time. The clinks of utensils sounding louder than usual in the semi-darkness. A taal-paata fan in hand. Tilting back and forth on the rocking chair. Waiting for the curtain to be lifted by an occasional waft. A mind rendered vacant with the heat and the knowledge that trying to do anything at all would end in nothing but futility. And from the ground floor, the sound of the radio...
Vividhbharati. Hawa Mahal. And what music...! It filled the air, the heat, the dim glow and every crevice of the vacant mind. The melody said that everything was really alright. This darkness too would pass...
Now, after almost 15 years, I find a sense of peace and security in that image. Strange. For while living it, I am not sure what I would find in it except the helplessness of inactivity. That is the advantage of the past I guess... it always looks better on hindsight - as Rushdie put it "the memory creates its own reality".
And today shall be tomorrow's past as well. I am living a moment that I will cherish 15 years from now... the wonders of the mind never cease to amaze!
Manna Dey was singing on my laptop - "Dil ka haal sune dilwala" - when a lap-lit evening formed itself in my mind. It was one of the innumerable lap-lit evenings that formed my childhood. A warm, yellow, dim glow spread through the house. The air hot and humid most of the time. The clinks of utensils sounding louder than usual in the semi-darkness. A taal-paata fan in hand. Tilting back and forth on the rocking chair. Waiting for the curtain to be lifted by an occasional waft. A mind rendered vacant with the heat and the knowledge that trying to do anything at all would end in nothing but futility. And from the ground floor, the sound of the radio...
Vividhbharati. Hawa Mahal. And what music...! It filled the air, the heat, the dim glow and every crevice of the vacant mind. The melody said that everything was really alright. This darkness too would pass...
Now, after almost 15 years, I find a sense of peace and security in that image. Strange. For while living it, I am not sure what I would find in it except the helplessness of inactivity. That is the advantage of the past I guess... it always looks better on hindsight - as Rushdie put it "the memory creates its own reality".
And today shall be tomorrow's past as well. I am living a moment that I will cherish 15 years from now... the wonders of the mind never cease to amaze!
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