Thursday, August 15, 2013

The book of love is long and boring; No one can Lift the damn thing. It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing.

well... this blog is not done. not yet.

... i remember i used to read the 'foreword's by authors very keenly... and i always wondered why they write them on such important dates... from the traditional Independence Day to Republic Day or even Guru Poornima... i guess it added some kinda weight to the 'foreword'... it surely made some mark...

... everything was going just fine... i cleaned up the porch, took bath, made some tea, watched Made of Honour and then Skyfall and then The Butterfly Effect and then Solaris and then The Fountain and then i even let that song play... it played on and on and on... till the time i finished checking-out my twitter feed and facebook and email and news and twitter feed and facebook and email and news... you got the drift...

... "... she practically raised them. mausi must've been five year old and mamaji another year older. she even kept sitting beside me when i was sick... and in the end... when she needed care the most..." my mom left that conversation; her voice softening and braving to fight off her tears... we got down from the rickshaw at the gates of Beneras Hindu University only to hop into another one... and the topic changed... memories lingered...

... they had their own charm... the way they engaged us in conversation... narrated the stories... lived their lives... and then they just left... or maybe not...