Underplay it, overdo it, ignore it or revel in it- New Year is here and it is a day old already and by the time this is posted probably older. So what did I do for the New Year's- make new resolutions, review old ones, 1000 SMSs and 'send to alls', some precious phone calls and the few very lucky ones hugged and air kissed just in time before 01-01-10 is over, managed a movie, a meal - it sure was a crowded day- hope not an indicator of the rest of the 364 1/4 of the days to come.
But did manage a precious 1 hour of sanity- brought in the New Year with a hot cup of chai, alone in a house full of sleeping people. Just me and the warm friendly silences of the house that calm me down after the day is long done. Me and the house meet like old friends who don't need to say much to each other and are just greatful for each other's company. That door that creaks most annoyingly the whole day suddenly becomes a friendly grunt, a slurp of tea with an old timer. Those lights that are dull and just not enough become mellow and offer seclusion.
And then, the mad rush of the New Year took over and all that was really important got pushed back. And after returning from a mad 1 1/2 hour jam ride back home I was desprate for a detox, to centre myself.
And there in the corner of my room is a bag full of life, at least mine. A bag whose burnt leather loves its tenants and the occupants peeped out invitingly begging for a cup of tea. So, with a cahi and a flourish i brought open all that I cherish- an old diary, a beautiful palm reed folder with some unread articles- Chekov and Raza. And the reverently and for the 100th time I read Kaifi Azmi's 'Aurat'.And though the rebel in me dies a 1000 deaths each day, I promised myself a resolution that as Amitav Ghosh sums up his two characters in the lovable Hungry Tide- I will not be the one looking and waiting for a revolution but will suffice my struggles to my one island . Its time to bury Wordsworth and try Ibsen........
Happy New Year
But did manage a precious 1 hour of sanity- brought in the New Year with a hot cup of chai, alone in a house full of sleeping people. Just me and the warm friendly silences of the house that calm me down after the day is long done. Me and the house meet like old friends who don't need to say much to each other and are just greatful for each other's company. That door that creaks most annoyingly the whole day suddenly becomes a friendly grunt, a slurp of tea with an old timer. Those lights that are dull and just not enough become mellow and offer seclusion.
And then, the mad rush of the New Year took over and all that was really important got pushed back. And after returning from a mad 1 1/2 hour jam ride back home I was desprate for a detox, to centre myself.
And there in the corner of my room is a bag full of life, at least mine. A bag whose burnt leather loves its tenants and the occupants peeped out invitingly begging for a cup of tea. So, with a cahi and a flourish i brought open all that I cherish- an old diary, a beautiful palm reed folder with some unread articles- Chekov and Raza. And the reverently and for the 100th time I read Kaifi Azmi's 'Aurat'.And though the rebel in me dies a 1000 deaths each day, I promised myself a resolution that as Amitav Ghosh sums up his two characters in the lovable Hungry Tide- I will not be the one looking and waiting for a revolution but will suffice my struggles to my one island . Its time to bury Wordsworth and try Ibsen........
Happy New Year
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