I have read several blogs where the blogger goes "Its been a long time since I posted...". I've always wondered why. But the answer came to me today in a blaze of self realization. Its been a long time since I posted. Three drafts. Each with a couple of lines. This has been the state of my blog since December of last year.In my defense, I could say that I was part of three plays this year and all of my creative juices were spent on those productions. Or I could just accept the fact that I was plain lazy.
So I opened my blog the other day and checked on the drafts that have been waiting for me for several months. All of them are quite interesting. Brimming with a potential that rivalled all of my other posts. The first brush strokes of a collection of masterpieces. And so I chucked them and sat staring at a fresh page and listening to Unwritten by Natasha Beddingfield.
And I sat and sat. I wanted something special. Something that captured who I really was. Dealing with my identity and conflict. I wanted slices of human life and I wanted to represent them in ways that brought out the different shades in human beings. I discarded the IPL finals where Bangalore put up a miserable effort. I chucked the Lokpal movement because I wanted the identity thingy to be there. I put the fact that i had learnt to make burnt egg and Amul cheese sandwiches in the garbage bin. But reserved a spot for it when I learnt to make chicken biriyani. I stoppered my rising outrage at the fact that PVR charges Rs 90 for tickets in the morning whle its 240 bucks in the night and decided it definitely was not a good topic. Makes me think Chennai is a better city after all with CSK and Sathyam Theatres. Then I struck upon the idea of writing about Chennai and how beautiful it is. But then i decided against it considering the anti-Chennai feel among my friends after the defeat on Saturday. I mean, I'd rather get beaten up because of something more fulfilling than a blog post. An anti-government protest march for my rights or a mass movement against environmental degradation or maybe a mass burning of Twilight books. Yeah blog post on Chennai out.
And so I decided to post about the most excited thing that happened in Bangalore after I came home this month. The election results were very very exciting and was in tough contention with the fact that I had a blast at my cousins wedding. But then the whole hullabolla about the guv's decision to impose pesidents rule made me ponder whether to write about Center - State relations in India, especially after the Indian Constitution course last sem. But then suddenly I remembered that Osama was dead. Of course that was not in Bangalore. But heck its a global village and I am definitely thrilled about the never before seen super stealthy, super secret super helo that the commandos used to sneak in and out of Pakistan. Made me believe in Bollywood movies agian. Wonder whether he laughed at the US soldiers who trained Pak soldiers outside his house. But then again, I can't claim it changed or challenged my idea of my identity. Just made me question the identity of the people living next door.
And then realisation struck me a second time. Edison's bulb flickered alive after a long period of 5 months with 'An Idea'. I should change it to a Havells bulb. Have you seen the ad where all the bulbs turn on together at the preset time. Really cool. Maybe the one above my head will keep turning on every day at 6 or something.
See three paragraphs into this post, my sister came in and applied Iodex on my shoulder and thats when the idea struck me. What happened to my shoulder? Thats what my post is about silly!
Three weeks into coming home, I had an intense urge to eat egg and cheese sandwich. A quick look around the kitchen revealed the disappointing news that there was no cheese or bread at home. And so I trotted down to the supemarket down the road to buy cheese, sandwich bread and pack of mango flavured Amul icecream (for the heck of it). Its not exactly a Reliance Fresh kind of super market. Just an extra big provision store with a couple of ailes with stuff stuffed into the shelves. No lines and long billing queues. The guy who helped you find where the papad was will bill the entire thing while chatting with you about the weather and what you had for lunch and take the cash and bid you a nice goodbye.
And so I was walking down the main road thinking that the retail scene in India has not entirely gone to the cold freezers of Reliance Fresh and Namdharis when something bowled into me from behind. Well not into me exactly. and no one bowled a motorbike at me. The front wheel of a blue coloured bike crashed into my right leg and spun me around in the air for about 3 seconds (plus or minus a couple of seconds) and sent me crashing to the ground and the next thing I know I'm lying on the ground looking up at the sky. I dont remember whether the sky was light blue or dark blue, or whether the clouds were wispy or looked like the dome of the Sistine chapel. The next to next thing I know, I'm picking up my shopping and dusting off my leg which scraped against the wheel of the bike while the three (THREE!!) guys on the bike kept shouting at me about walking in the middle of the road. I was walking on the side. I swear. That was adding insult to injury wasn't it, so i shouted back in garbled Kannada while he tried to salvage what he could of his rear view mirror. And then random strangers began joining the conversation. Since I was the victime here, they asked me if i was alright and to my great satisfaction berated the motorists. I said I was okay and that my house was right around the corner, picked up the groceries and went home. I washed off the scrapes with Dettol and ate the egg and cheese sandwich that my mom made while watching Karate Kid on Pix. Bill Smith's kid sure can act!
Oh and read the Dresden Files. Makes for better reading than this. Guess its too late now though.
So I opened my blog the other day and checked on the drafts that have been waiting for me for several months. All of them are quite interesting. Brimming with a potential that rivalled all of my other posts. The first brush strokes of a collection of masterpieces. And so I chucked them and sat staring at a fresh page and listening to Unwritten by Natasha Beddingfield.
And I sat and sat. I wanted something special. Something that captured who I really was. Dealing with my identity and conflict. I wanted slices of human life and I wanted to represent them in ways that brought out the different shades in human beings. I discarded the IPL finals where Bangalore put up a miserable effort. I chucked the Lokpal movement because I wanted the identity thingy to be there. I put the fact that i had learnt to make burnt egg and Amul cheese sandwiches in the garbage bin. But reserved a spot for it when I learnt to make chicken biriyani. I stoppered my rising outrage at the fact that PVR charges Rs 90 for tickets in the morning whle its 240 bucks in the night and decided it definitely was not a good topic. Makes me think Chennai is a better city after all with CSK and Sathyam Theatres. Then I struck upon the idea of writing about Chennai and how beautiful it is. But then i decided against it considering the anti-Chennai feel among my friends after the defeat on Saturday. I mean, I'd rather get beaten up because of something more fulfilling than a blog post. An anti-government protest march for my rights or a mass movement against environmental degradation or maybe a mass burning of Twilight books. Yeah blog post on Chennai out.
And so I decided to post about the most excited thing that happened in Bangalore after I came home this month. The election results were very very exciting and was in tough contention with the fact that I had a blast at my cousins wedding. But then the whole hullabolla about the guv's decision to impose pesidents rule made me ponder whether to write about Center - State relations in India, especially after the Indian Constitution course last sem. But then suddenly I remembered that Osama was dead. Of course that was not in Bangalore. But heck its a global village and I am definitely thrilled about the never before seen super stealthy, super secret super helo that the commandos used to sneak in and out of Pakistan. Made me believe in Bollywood movies agian. Wonder whether he laughed at the US soldiers who trained Pak soldiers outside his house. But then again, I can't claim it changed or challenged my idea of my identity. Just made me question the identity of the people living next door.
See three paragraphs into this post, my sister came in and applied Iodex on my shoulder and thats when the idea struck me. What happened to my shoulder? Thats what my post is about silly!
Three weeks into coming home, I had an intense urge to eat egg and cheese sandwich. A quick look around the kitchen revealed the disappointing news that there was no cheese or bread at home. And so I trotted down to the supemarket down the road to buy cheese, sandwich bread and pack of mango flavured Amul icecream (for the heck of it). Its not exactly a Reliance Fresh kind of super market. Just an extra big provision store with a couple of ailes with stuff stuffed into the shelves. No lines and long billing queues. The guy who helped you find where the papad was will bill the entire thing while chatting with you about the weather and what you had for lunch and take the cash and bid you a nice goodbye.
And so I was walking down the main road thinking that the retail scene in India has not entirely gone to the cold freezers of Reliance Fresh and Namdharis when something bowled into me from behind. Well not into me exactly. and no one bowled a motorbike at me. The front wheel of a blue coloured bike crashed into my right leg and spun me around in the air for about 3 seconds (plus or minus a couple of seconds) and sent me crashing to the ground and the next thing I know I'm lying on the ground looking up at the sky. I dont remember whether the sky was light blue or dark blue, or whether the clouds were wispy or looked like the dome of the Sistine chapel. The next to next thing I know, I'm picking up my shopping and dusting off my leg which scraped against the wheel of the bike while the three (THREE!!) guys on the bike kept shouting at me about walking in the middle of the road. I was walking on the side. I swear. That was adding insult to injury wasn't it, so i shouted back in garbled Kannada while he tried to salvage what he could of his rear view mirror. And then random strangers began joining the conversation. Since I was the victime here, they asked me if i was alright and to my great satisfaction berated the motorists. I said I was okay and that my house was right around the corner, picked up the groceries and went home. I washed off the scrapes with Dettol and ate the egg and cheese sandwich that my mom made while watching Karate Kid on Pix. Bill Smith's kid sure can act!
Oh and read the Dresden Files. Makes for better reading than this. Guess its too late now though.
