Skip to main content

Meanderings

There is this thing about reading that is unique and personal to each. It awakens feelings and thoughts that one could not have conjured while sitting idly. Although that is too much of an overstatement to be true. But whenever I share my reads on a public platform like Goodreads or Instagram where book stories are put under the hashtag of bookstagram, I feel the result is pretty much the same as sharing them with someone in person. There are so many amazing people who are bold, uninhibited and clear while speaking their mind especially on the internet. Some of them have become such good friends of mine even though we haven't met or have no possibility of meeting in the near future. I am sounding more like the pessimist but it is true, sadly. 

One can't live on books and thus is effectively proved in a book I read two days ago. It's called, The House of Paper written by Carlos Dominguez. It came as a very timely shocker and reminder to me since I was drifting in a dangerous territory of book lust, one where I was spending all my money on books each time I visited a certain area of the city. It was driving me a little crazy too after realizing the insane way I was spending money. Not that it's not a good thing but one has to be realistic as well. Last night, a friend shared a lovely rendition of "All my favourite things" from The Sound Of Music. I hadn't realised the extreme need I was in of listening to this song at the midnight hour. Absolutely delighted with the lyrics, with Julie Andrews, of course! Sometimes, culture is about transcending differences and enjoying them. I was so inspired by the verses that I created my own and promptly sent them to my friend. Such a joy to reflect upon our feelings and introspect on things that give us joy, make us truly thankful for having this life and being present in the moment. Life is all about these little moments. 

Are we living in the most opportunist times? A good thing that came out of today was that I spoke my mind, albeit of course, with a hesitant approach but it turned out well. People appreciate it when we communicate clearly with them. Too often, I stifle and suppress my angst or disagreements but it's really fine to be vocal. We musn't let our thinking horses too loose, for they create nothing but havoc. But let's not drown our thoughts too. S P E A K. For that is the only tool we could truly say still belongs to us and is unique in its respect of giving us the power to express what our minds, pens, tongues conceal. In the middle of writing here, I wrote to another fellow blogger on an old post of hers. It is so important to let our thoughts be heard and expressed. Each time we raise our voices for things that don't make sense in this garbled world, we are taking a step towards creating a dialog of understanding. Here's to our empowered selves and the courage to take a stand when we see wrong!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Daffodils in 'hindi'

I came across a beautiful hindi translation of William Wordsworth's Daffodils. Yes, Hindi. It's done by Ian Woolford. In his own words, he is an UK born American in Oz | Hindi Lecturer @La Trobe University | Language, Literature, Folklore | फणीश्वरनाथ रेणु पर किताब लिख रहा हूँ. He is writing a book on one of the most influential modern hindi writers, Phanishwarnath Renu. Woolford translates quotes in hindi as well, and they are really good. Case in point this:
मज़ाक एक बहुत ही गंभीर चीज़ होती है. ~ विंस्टन चर्चिल
His translation of Daffodils is what blew my mind. Absolutely brilliant. I felt so pleased upon reading it.
घूमते फिरते मैं—मेघ एकमात्र जैसे घाटी-पहाड़ मंडरा रहा था एकाएक देखा क्या—भीड़, समवाय सुनहरा, सुहावना डैफोडिल की ~ विलियम वर्ड्सवर्थ
My love for hindi poetry has rejuvenated since last december, and when I see the wealth of hindi literature available on the internet and the choicest bookstores, I am only too inspired to read and write more. The People'…

Book Tales

A cancelled lunch date led my feet astray to the book treasures on Flora Fountain. This happened on a busy Monday afternoon. I promised myself I wouldn't engage my eyes on books anymore after I ended up spending a whole lot more than I usually do. It feels like an addiction, something I can't let go off. While I am sure books will and should not be recognised as harmful addiction, I am painfully aware of the fact that splurging money on anything every time we see it is unhealthy. Of course, I know the psychology and the hard facts too, but buying books feels like conquering the access way to treasures of an inexpressible happy state of mind.
When I was young, losing myself in the book world was not just for the introduction into the big wide unseen world but also for the love of imagination. I was fascinated with colours and story telling, had a thirst for adventure that seemed strangely missing in my childhood as it was so pronounced in Enid Blyton's books. I could never…

Tuesday mirror

I was hoping to write more consistently when December started but alas, I haven't been able to write as much as I hoped to. Last few weeks have been a blur, mostly, occupied with academics and lots of insignificant stuff I haven't had the opportunity to analyse yet. I have a feeling I will end up over-analysing this state of mind unless I speak with my friend, Shree, first. We share a great telepathic wavelength. We connect so instantly even after a long span of no conversation that sometimes I truly think technology won't be a necessity if either of us were stranded on a desert island. Also, since it's December, it means I will be writing about my unfinished reads and to-reads. Over time I have started recognising the presence of the humongous pile of books I've amassed in these last two months that sit huddled on a sofa chair in the living room. Most of them bear signs of my having handled them, with marked coloured passages that really make me happy when I thin…