yraiD

The title is the mirror image of "Diary", though not exactly, but the reason I spelt it reverse will be clear soon. This post is for those of you who maintain a diary, others can also go through it but it'll be a little dull for them. Many of us maintain a diary in some form or the other which means "a daily record, usually private, esp. of the writer's own experiences, observations, feelings, attitudes, etc". Some do the chronicling in hardbound executive diaries while others may opt for a more casual notebook kind of approach. But its really not the package but the content in it that really matters. Now I for one happen to keep a diary, which I can't really attend to regularly, rather I return to it occasionally. Now it so happened that the other day I was organizing all my books and among them found my last year's diary. I skimmed through the pages and felt like I was reading a page from somebody else's. I started recollecting the events which I had almost forgotten but happened only a few months ago. Then in a certain section I was a bit pensive when going through a particularly emotional phase. Then a pang of disappointment hit me when I realised that I have looked over so many things that I had promised to do last year. Then I stumbled upon a few nice days where I was having great fun which uplifted the gloominess.

It really felt a bit nostalgic and quaint revisiting the days gone by. Do you guys go through your old diaries? If not then do it and when you open it, go to a random page and start reading it. It just feels like being transported in a time machine, the difference being that we know what's in store for us. Still it refreshes the old memories, some trivial events which might have felt so consequential at that time but so insignificant now, the broken promises and the abandoned hopes, the achievements and the pleasures, all come rushing back. Visiting old memory lanes, I wonder what it'll be like when I'll reread the same pages maybe after another thirty odd years.

Distant notes

It's been quite a few days since my last post and there has been a few instances which I thought of blogging, but eventually surrendered to my laziness and procrastination. Whenever I think of a new post, the ideas in their rudimentary form appear reluctant to shape up, which can be attributed partially to the fact that I have to write it in a language which is still foreign to me. The vocabulary and the articulation of the sentences still eludes me. Though I have come a long way in adopting a foreign language in which there's a conscious effort on my part to channel the thoughts in those non-native waters; still I grapple with the problem of finding the appropriate synonyms to accurately portray a situation, the right words describing the emotions, the exact adjectives to illustrate something or somebody. I do admit that its still a bit cumbersome for me to introspect and reflect in English which is not the case with Bengali, my vernacular tongue.


As I found out gradually that acquiring a decent vocabulary or learning the grammar never leads you to a state where you can learn the intricacies of carefully expressing the subtleties or enjoy the play of words in a conversation, it only prepares you for that; but the proper usage and picking up a dialect with the right accent can only be learnt through sharing with other people who are fluent in it. The tons of books and newspapers and movies can only make you comfortable with the form of communication but will never embed it in you until and unless you really get to interact with those for whom it comes spontaneously. I have been staying in Chennai for quite some time now and though initially I was quite reluctant to learn the tongue twisting vocabs of Tamil, but through regular interaction with the locals and gradual eagerness to exploit a new culture, I have managed at least to communicate the necessary exchanges of daily life. To be perfectly honest, only the idea of exploring the rich Tamil literature and understanding the interesting Tamil-movies have inspired me to learn it.


Its always an exciting and en lighting journey to learn a new language and the pleasure of interacting with the locals in their native tongue certainly has its dividends.We truly get to know the people of a place through their language.Hope to learn a few more of the south-Indian lingos before I move to a new place.

An evening well spent

If you'r dripping wet and waiting for some form of transportation for 45min in an almost deserted bus depot at night, with no company, how do you feel? Irritated initially, then gradually fuming at your helplessness and after a while sombre when you realize that you can't do much to change this.

Actually yesterday evening started off quite well for me until me and my friends decided to hit the beach. We went to Besantnagar Beach(in Chennai) to eat some delicious fish, prawn and squid fries. But those of you who live in this part of the world will agree with me when I say that the Chennai beaches really give the Rio carnival a run for its money on the weekends. To appreciate this jamboree we joined a mixed group of youngsters and middle-aged not-so-romantic people who were happily trying to play their part in the marine population control. We guys had barely started on our first round of prawns when all of a sudden a tempest hit us. The scene quickly resembled the bull-run on the streets of Spain, with everybody in sight running for a cover. Reluctant to abandon our delicious prawns, we decided to put our feet down against the downpour(cheeky, ehh), having our faith on the lack of stamina of mid-July-Chennai-monsoon. Soon enough we realised that the clouds have prepared themselves well for this assault when we were soaked to our bones. But I can say this much that we showed our doggedness by cleaning off the plates. Then we lit up our cigarettes and went to the edge of the water. Here I would like to point out to the skeptics that it's really tough to lit a wet cigarette, but once lit you can puff it away under a waterfall. So shivering in our wet clothes, we guys discussed grave issues like how fast we can run in the wet sand when the first signs of Tsunami are visible. Just then we noticed a group of guys digging around in the sand. Somebody in our group suggested that maybe they are taking new measures for rain water conservation while another one came up with an even more brilliant idea that they are digging the small trenches to catch some fishes by trapping them. It turned out that one of them had actually lost a ring and the whole group was searching for it by plowing the area. As the word spread around over enthusiastic volunteers braved the rain to join them. As I had to reach my room so I started off wondering if it might would have been easier for them to find the proverbial needle in a barn.

Now drenched and cold I reach the Gandhinagar bus depot to narrowly miss my bus. After that I realised how utterly frustrating and disgusting it's to wait in soaked socks with half your clothes covered in sand. After almost 50min of this ordeal I finally got my bus and tried to make myself comfortable wondering whether I have developed webbed feet or my skin will peel off when I will finally roll down the socks.

Printed words...

When was the last time that you read a book and truly felt connected with it, the last time that you wanted with all your heart that you could emulate a character from that book, wanted that the storyline prolongs itself to include infinite plots, subplots, characters and whatever is necessary to continue the flow of narration? Well SHANTARAM is one that has captured my imagination in more ways then one. Though I was rushing to finish it, savoring the unexpected twists and turns, but I was feeling guilty for hurrying it and pensive that like all good things in life the book was also destined to be read its last words, sooner or later. The lyrical narrative and the arresting turn of events just got me hooked for the last few days. Though there are only a few books that I have reread, I was quite sure even before finishing that this one would be certainly in that list. The book is going to be made into a movie, but I'm sure it'll be impossible to capture in celluloid the wildness of the protagonist's character or the philosophies he has attained from the exploration of his soul. I once heard that "words corrupt the emotions" but I can't strongly agree with that now.

Whenever we read a book we're trying to have a view of the various situations, and emotions from the author's perspective and it's like sitting in the head of that guy and watching through his eyes. This reminds me of the film BEING JOHN MALKOVICH. It's not necessary that we should always agree to the author's angle but it certainly gets us to look at things in a different light. What mesmerizes me more is not the word play but the way of simplifying the complicated stuff. For me books can be the best friend, guide and teacher that a man can ask for. They helps us to understand the things in a better and profound way. They guide us not to search the best answers in life but to ask the right questions.

I still remember the time when I was a toddler and my mother used to read me stories and I was anxious to explore the hidden treasures concealed in those printed pages. Still I feel the same way and hope that this yearning and fascination for the printed stuff would never wane.