Monday, May 19, 2008

Prelude To A Sabbatical

Today, like every other day, I'm going to pretend my blog is all-important, that the world cannot do without my opinions. Absurd? Totally. But what is life without a little bit of imagination to enliven things and make you believe what you want to, true though it might not be?

I locked myself in the bedroom, to spend a pleasureable hour reading, after having watched television for three hours this afternoon(!). However, I spent more time thinking than reading, fantasising, worrying...all those things that you do when you realise you have just a few more days at home, before you move out into the open to be on your own. It's not easy. When thoughts come surging into my mind, I cork them up. There is no room for nostalgia here, not at this moment. I have things to enjoy before I begin to wish I could travel back in time.

What am I going to recall? Udit Narayan's terrible pronunciation in the numerous Telugu songs he sings. Long bus rides to and from college. The granny on the balcony opposite ours, who wears a perpetual scowl. The Spencer's outlet nearby, where my mum and I pop in if we just happen to be passing by, for want of something better to do. The girls working there are really nice and friendly. Inquisitive, too. One of them asked me today, for instance, why I don't wear earrings. The schoolgirls in my building and the next- I don't talk to any of them, but we always wave when we see one another. The cranky shopkeeper across the street, who always wears a grey-stained yellowish-brown vest and grey trousers, and inevitably has an argument every day with one of his customers.

What am I going to miss? Some of the nicer people among those I just mentioned. The hill and its twin palm trees(or three, I can't quite spot the third now). The sight of the setting sun behind the rocky projection on the hill. Leaning out of the balcony to feel the warm, fragrance-laden moist wind of new rain. The crows that alight on the balcony wall for their biscuits or bread every morning. My books (I can only carry a few with me...I'll have to be really careful with them). The Bay of Bengal. Reading old issues of Tinkle. My privacy. (I almost added the rain to the list...the rain is the same in every part of the country, isn't it? Or is it endowed with certain characteristics that make it more enjoyable at home than elsewhere?)

I'm really glad to see Ted Corbett's columns in the Hindu again. He brings life to gloomy days of English cricket (the weather, I mean) at Lord's. He speaks with hope of England's chances of winning the Ashes next year. He is a man after my own heart. Wouldn't he have been perfectly at home in one of the cricket teams in PGW's schools?

I'm not a big fan of the IPL. So why do I support a team when a match is going on? Why do I want Chennai to win the tournament? (I have the audacity to live in Andhra Pradesh and not support the Deccan Chargers. Honestly, when my friends bewail the lack of performance on the part of the Deccan team, I can't help feeling a little smug and condescending.) I simply cannot watch a game or read about a forthcoming match and not be partial to one of the participating teams/players. Even if the match in question were taking place between Jamea Jackson and Tracy Austin. Partisanship makes the game exciting, even if you have barely heard of the players involved and would probably not even remember the result of the game a couple of days later. Oh, and while we're talking about the IPL, I don't know what I was happier about yesterday- SRK losing or Chennai winning. By the way, how is the D/L method applied in T20 games?

Time to go. I simply cannot think of anything more to say(!). This post has solely been for the purpose of putting something here as a (rather long) prelude to mentioning that I may not be able to blog for a few weeks. But because the number of people who read me is not even as large as the number of people who can spell floccipaucinihilipilification (have I got that right?), or have even heard of the word, and as almost all of you know I'll be away, I can see that this is one totally futile post. I am in the habit of posting something atleast once a week, so you can see I'm just doing my duty to my conscience. I do shudder to think what my blog will look like a few weeks later, devoid of anything new or relevant. This blog is not defunct (in case you're reading this a few weeks from today). I am just taking a sabbatical that I'm not enforcing on myself. See you soon.

PS: My ego was vigorously at work while I typed this post out. My imagination was busy trying to overestimate my importance. Not its fault, it's just livening things up on this hot, extremely unproductive evening.

7 comments:

Ashwin Raghu said...

Hi there... I read this poem called Rain, thought you might like it :)

http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2008/05/26/080526po_poem_paterson

Arun Ramkumar said...

ego? eh where?!! :D
and yeah Ted is back see :)
and hey why dontcha get a laptop?

Jaya said...

Ashwin: Thanks a lot :). It is a very entertaining poem, and the opening lines are wonderful.

Arun: You couldn't see it? Thank goodness :). I'll get a laptop after a while, right now I want to concentrate on the training.

Revs said...

@jaya
Lovely post. Enjoyed reading it. BTW where are u headed to now? Which place? Chennai? And awwwwww please don’t stop writing!!! I cant pronounce or spell floccipaucinihilipilification but am an avid reader of your blog!! Do continue writing!! You are well admired!! :)

Dinesh said...

So which city are you off to?

Bhuvaneswari Jayaraman said...

Hi Pooja,

thought I will catch up with you; since I did not have your email so reaching through your blog. Hope you are doing well. Please convey my hello to your parents.
Here, the one year program is drawing to a close and I am job hunting again:)
As always books are my constant companions so in addition to some interesting books for assignments I have managed quite a lot of leisure reading. Liked Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's The Palace of Illusions and am currently reading Jonah Lehrer's Proust was a neuroscientist.

bye for now,

Bhuvani

ThoughtSafari said...

Hi there, here is an award for great writing. Check out the latest post.