Skip to main content

Something

Best to meet in poems:

cool speckled shells
in which one hears

a sad but distant sea.  

When writers go to some dark spaces and then pull out of them to unravel the brightness specking the surroundings, that's when we enter this happy sojourn into their world.

How many times have we heard about everything that has a reason, a time, a place? Somedays my nights are spent excessively dwelling upon this reasoning of time. How do we really get into and out of this catacomb of emotions so frequently and so easily? I just finished reading two works of fiction, both intense emotional dramas and my heart couldn't stop from beating hard for the people in them. I shipped them when they fell down and struggled to move on in their fictional lives. No comparing our complex lives on hand, but isn't fiction the escape from reality? 

The more I think about necessities and lost opportunities, the more I revel in the knowledge of self evaluation. Anyway, this is the last blog post of July. How time flies by in a whoosh! I hope to work hard and achieve what I have set in mind. May we all regain our strengths and energies to live healthy, better and meaningful lives.

Here's to better times in August ahead! 

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…