Tuesday, September 25, 2007

It is a fine English summer evening. The sun has not yet set and throws its golden rays everywhere turning everything the colour of gold. We are in a beautiful nature park which is located right in the middle of busy London, away from all the noise and traffic. The birds chirp and call out to each other to come home, to rest for the day. Here and there you see young lovers holding hands and gazing in each other's eyes, completely absorbed in each other. Here we see Keith Richards coming for a walk, all by himself, without bodyguards or friends, contemplating life and its mysteries. Maybe he is thinking of a song in his head, or composing a new one, we'll never know. Suddenly he sees in his path Kate Moss, scantily dressed and looking more fresh and beautiful and sexier than ever. Keith Richards stops dead in his tracks, and can do nothing but stare at the beautiful creature in front of him. For a moment he is oblivious to the noise and chatter around him, the world stops spinning, and when she beckons him to come to her his old heart stops beating. All his primal instincts tell him to go to her, take her in his arms and ravish her until he is drained of all energy. He has seen many beautiful women come and go in his life, but never has he experienced anything as breathtakingly incredible as this. He wants to forget the whole world and focus only on this moment, this here now. He is tempted, oh he sure is tempted. Life and all its complications momentarily takes a backseat. Then he takes a step forward, pauses, then another step. He stops. After what seems like eternity, he looks down to the ground, shakes his head, and walks away. Because, after all, a rolling stone gathers no moss.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Blogger's block

I have nothing to write, no inspirations no epiphanies no eureka moments. But yet I feel obligated to do so. As a blogger I am duty-bound to update from time to time, if not for others' then at least for my sake. I have been quite busy lately; with no time to sit and think and write something. I cannot just sit down and put my hands on the keyboard and come up with something interesting/exciting/worthwhile. I cannot just select a subject and write a thousand words on it. I need time, space, and quiet. No wonder writers sometimes lock themselves up in secluded places for months and years on end. When you are alone and away from the chaos and madness of everyday life it must be so much easier to concentrate, to think, to look at things in a different perspective. Barely two months old and I feel I am running out of steam. The novelty of blogging has worn off a bit, but if I want to be a successful blogger/writer I have to continually reinvent my thoughts, my ideas, my imagination, my point of view; I cannot let my mind run off in the same direction everyday. I have so much to learn, especially when it comes to writing. Like how to refine your grammar and expand your vocabulary. How to be a better story-teller and keep your readers captivated. How to make them come back for more. How to be more creative and inventive. And so on. It's a big world out there just waiting to be explored.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Sunday, September 2, 2007

Page Eighteen

One of my most favourite Sunday afternoon pastimes is reading the Sunday newspaper, especially the Times of India, especially Page 18, especially a column titled Jugular Vein, written by a humorous and insightful columnist Jug Suraiya. Page 18 also features Shobhaa De, Bachi Karkaria, and sometimes Shashi Tharoor. Today's piece by Jug Suraiya was titled Status Co, a true but funny article about how committees take forever to decide something/come to a conclusion/take action. The last paragraph ran thus:

In the meantime, I've learnt to recite the Gayatri Mantra of all Committee, and even sub-Committee, members:
Our Committee which art in quorum
Procrastination be thy game
Thy agenda come, thy nil be done
On earth as it is in eternity
Give us this day our daily delay
And forgive us our progresses
As we forgive those who progress despite you
And lead us not into completion
But deliver us from decision
For thine is the vacillation
The red tape and the veto
For ever and ever

Read the full article here