To Be or Not To Be..

Life. 


I wish it was not about expectations. I wish it was about love.

Ramblings...

It was in third standard when i first entered that room- and it was clear. Very very clear. That I was in love.

The smell, the sights, the touch of those wizened pages- I never thought a library could be that enchanting. I remember the first question I asked- Can I take it home? And was very sweetly told- "Not till the Sixth standard" From that day on, till the first day of Sixth Standard, it was about biding time and most of that time was spent in the library- devouring books. Don't get me wrong- I was by no means a geek- I mean, I wasn't reading Encyclopedias, or some such thing- It were the stories. So many of them.

My love affair started with Agatha Christies (yes, in third standard!), moved on to Hardy Boys, then Enid Blydons, Sydney Sheldons- It was crazy! I'd read anything that caught my fancy, issue 3 books at a time (maximum allowed), and return them in 2 days flat, only to issue more. I was enthralled by the mysteries, the thrillers, yet soon moved beyond them to the world of grown ups. The books were my friends, my teachers- who taught me all I needed to know about life, relationships, laughter, humour, suspicions, greed, lust and I began to revere authors who could phrase my feelings better than I ever could. Doesn't that feel good? When you don't know how to describe a feeling and then you pick up a book and there it is- written as plainly as possible, in words you could never have thought of?

And then there are these new worlds- for the life of me I could never have thought them up- but thank God for blessed authors! Oh what would I give to meet Tolkien and discuss the middle earth with him, or Alan Moore to know his psyche while inventing Rorschach. It's a blessing to be able to read and comprehend what these great minds have to say- Bulle Shah with his poetry and Vikram Seth with his prose. People don't understand why I'd read a book again- and I do- all of them. For there's a book for every mood and season and every time you read it- any book- again- you'd find something you missed the first time around. Lord knows how many times I have read the tiny "The Little Prince" and every time I've come away with a very very different understanding of life, as seen through the eyes of le petit prince who lives on a tiny planet with two suns.

I heard it quoted in an ad the other day- A book is nothing but a machine for time travel- and so it is.

And so it shall be. For times to come. Amen.

For Kids..Or Not!

I watched HP and the Deathly Hallows the other day and amidst squeals of kids babbling "babby bottah", I realized that this one just isn't for the kids.

I remember half way through the Potter series; there were protests by the church with regards to the apparent promotion of witchcraft amongst kids. I mean, are u serious? Church getting its knickers in a twist over Harry Potter? Um, did you perchance glance at Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy? Now that's a series worth getting your knickers in a twist over :)

I mean the first book is great and yes, somewhat for kids (Spoiler- What do you mean? Your mother is a super villain and your father, in his quest for power refuses to acknowledge you? Childs play all that! ) But then comes the second book and with it, the goose bumps. Extremely fast paced, this 'children's book' tells a riveting story of Bill and Laira. And the third one is a gut wrenching end (spoiler- Dear Church, Metatron was the f***ing super villain- or did u skip this piece entirely?) And they call it a bloody 'children's book'!

I don't get these tags. I picked up Stardust by Neil Gaiman fully anticipating it to be a 'Children's Book'- it does say fairy tale on the cover. All's good till I encounter our favorite little four letter word on the fourth page, second paragraph, all caps. Interesting!

Hence, a humble plea- don’t judge a book by its cover. There’s been no book from which I haven’t learnt. And there’s so much more out there…

Elvis' blues...

So my car broke down. Actually the accelerator gave up on me. For someone so keen to zoom my way through it all, the near snail pace was unnerving. So I parked the car, called for help and stood by the curb to become a spectator sport. And spectator sport it was, people would go by, slow down whatever vehicles they were driving, look at the car with the open bonnet, the girl standing next to it, shake their heads and drive on by. Well, thanks for all the help.

A guy did stop- well almost- he slowed down his Scorpio and looked me up and down- yes me- not my car- reached a conclusion that i was a damsel in distress that needed saving and he, my knight on a white charger (it was a white Scorpio, go figure) and almost careened to a stop. Almost? Well, the mechanic showed up by then as my actual knight on a white charger ( a God forsaken, practically ancient white omni) and so feeling redundant, he went on his way. Pity.

The mechanic tinkered around under the hood- hemmed and hawed- (maddum, problum kya hai? zara axul pe zor do..hmmm..ab gadi on karo...hmmm..servis kab karai thi aapne?) and then very sweetly told me "woh ji- reelay sot kar gaya hai". He then changed the offending little blue bit and pronounced my car as good as new.

I agree. Its as good as- but definitely not new. Its called Elvis BTW- coz its shiny and plays good music.  Its my second home and a budding mini library and I love it - faulty little blue bits not withstanding :)

Resonated....and how...