22.2.15

And.


I have started writing out "and" in full, instead of resorting to the ampersand symbol. That little gesture seems to have taken me back to a few things, including using pen and paper.

[and]

As if to answer to a call, I find notebooks inside drawers, even in a cupboard. Notebooks with blank sheets, some with ruled lines, others with checks; a few have quotations at the bottom. "A thing of beauty is a joy forever," says one. It sounds banal now, but the fact is that it is a remembered quote. I cannot understand how a thing of beauty can be a joy forever, though. Unless one is close to that beauty forever — whatever that time-frame means — it can only give one temporary pleasure. Its memory may kindle a sense of satisfaction. But are such memories permanent only for the beauty or is there something else, perhaps a feeling that was triggered by its charm?

[and]

I am tired. Yes, tired. Right now after typing the above sentence. It is not the content that has made me tired; tiredness just set in without preamble or reason. But I want to continue. I write, although it's been a few days that I have not posted anything.

[and]

Once again somebody said that whatever I write tends to be too intense — and it was not an observation; it was an indictment, like I had to change, even improve. Improve upon it with levity? I have discovered that some people are artful enough to explain this as simplicity. Simplicity is seen as a virtue, even as they scour the online stores for Havanas and caviar body cream.

[and]

I slather a rose-scented cream because it is there. I don't like to smell of flowers; I like the woods to engulf me. The rose is not bad, though. I found a body mist and sprayed it. It was only after I smelled of Vanilla, that I read that it was Vanilla. It was bought three years ago and was in a plastic bag where I found it together with two lipsticks. And because they were there, I dabbed them on my lips — first the mauvish pink, then the caramel one. I felt all dressed up.

[and]

The note book was out. The very old one I pushed away. Do you realise how notebooks smell like notebooks only when they are too old and need to be pushed away?

[and]

Last evening there was The Lunchbox on TV. I switched it on when it was past the half-way mark. There was this scene where Sajan Fernandes is leaving Mumbai for Nasik upon retirement. In the train, an old man is telling him about his own retirement, all the time tapping his gnarled fingers on the table. Sajan averts his eyes from them. He returns to Mumbai. Escaping the old to return to the old.

[and]



By the sea, a crow sat on the back of a chair. We seemed to be looking at the same thing. The only difference was he could fly and perch higher and get a bird's eye view. But then things, including people and birds, get proportionally reduced. How he viewed me would be no different from how I viewed him.

Him? IT COULD BE HER.

Don't scream. Don't teach me feminism, you birdbrain. Don't teach me what the books have taught you, what you want to show off about. Don't teach me about what I have experienced. Don't.

[and]

A Japanese man is taking pictures of the sea. He is fidgeting, focusing-refocusing when all there is the sea. I hold up my phone camera and am done. When I zoom in on the result, I see a young couple. For a moment it feels like infringement on privacy, but I can't see their faces. It is bright and all they have is a closed beach shack to lean against. There is no cover, no privacy. No Do Not Disturb sign to place outside room doors.

All doors can be prised open by those with unsatisfactory lives prying into yours, not by chance but design. Scavengers foraging for tinsel to cover the soot they collect.

[and]

A stray walks past. I've seen it before. All strays look alike. At sunset, there is a barking sound as the horizon glows. I now call the cur a Golden Retriever. I dust off sand from my ankles.

And there is a whiff of vanilla.


5 comments:

  1. FV
    Simply a brilliant piece of blog!!!
    Circle

    ReplyDelete
  2. FV
    This piece is the actual reflection of that lady called Farzana Versey in the most literal sense.
    Circle

    ReplyDelete
  3. Hello Circle:

    Is it you, from the early days of CC?

    Personal observations are invariably reflections of our true self. And, there is always 'and' as addendum :-)

    Thank you for stopping by to comment...I have myself been rather whimsical...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, it's me the circle from early CC days:)

      Delete
  4. FV
    Great literal pieces always come from whimsical ideas with serious undertone.
    Circle

    ReplyDelete

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