I must, should write something. The will sadly is missing.

This week…

No breaking news, but ordinary happenings. Chipping a toenail on the sandal of the girl ahead, whose walk on the railway platform was reminiscent of a cow ambling in a garden. (yes, I can be very caustic when I want.) the fight to get into the train, and stay on it (in one piece), and get down from it without losing my handbag or sandal or a finger or arm. The chiding I got from a lady on the train when it appeared to her that my cell phone was falling from my handbag. I ought to be thankful, except I was in an irritable mood, the cell phone was securely tucked in, and the lady’s attitude – as though she couldn’t fathom I wasn’t down on my knees thanking her for speaking to me – was unthankable. the overall feeling I get when I realise that coming back hasn’t really changed things an iota. the sinking feeling when I wonder if anything ever will. Maybe I was too hopeful, and isn’t that ironic in a pessimist?
Since this post, while drifting from point to unrelated point, has devolved into an outright whiney rant, I will put a fullstop, until I can think of better things to write about.

Down memory lane

Discovered an old school diary of mine recently, one of those types in which the time-table was marked out at the end, and which used to have prayers printed on the front pages along with neat columns to be filled out for leave. I had turned a couple of such diaries into personal diaries after the school year, and finding them when least expected, filled me with joy.

These volumes were filled with childish scribblings and sketches (or drawings, as we used to call them), and also homework noted down for the day. I also chanced upon some letters tucked neatly inside the diaries, which school friends had posted to me, and replies which I had written but never posted. Letters, not because we were in a boarding school and it was vacation, but because a friend had moved to another city (in one case) and because I had later changed schools and moved to another part of the city. Letters, at an age when best friends seemed to be for ever, and parting from them made you feel  you would never again find another such. Letters, full of the sugary sentiments of childhood and teenage, in the not-yet age of computers, delivered by snail mail. I feel sad now that I realise I have no idea where those friends of mine are. Sometimes, even Orkut can only do so much.

I wanted to post some snapshots of the diary for everyone’s entertainment, but the internet connection suffers from anemia these days, and does all it can to stop me from using it to the max. So one of these days, when it has taken its daily dose of vitamins and minerals, you might see those pics. Until then, pray for it to recover soon.

Update: Got the pics uploaded. Here you go:

Diary

A couple of sound bytes

From the celebrities of Bollywood, who never fail to entertain, one way or the other:

Kareena Kapoor on one of her shows “I’ve to dance and I’ll be getting an award for my popularity with children.”

Some random actress called Adah Sharma “I play a musician in the film. My look is very stylish in the film. I’m going to wear torn jeans, caps, boots and other warm clothes since we shoot in England.”

I won’t give up reading bollywood news for anything in the world.

Found!!

Can probably be described as the discovery of the millenium. Presenting : librarywala, a netflix-equivalent for books.

I can’t wait to try this out. Me happy.