its amazing how we get used to things.i always thought that i couldn't live without blogging,but here i am-not blogging for over a month and alive!
i have been traveling...Agra was good.i loved Fatehpur Sikri.It exudes a certain kind of mystery which is absent in the Taj Mahal.with all my respect to the monument,i feel that wasn't left spellbound with its magnificence-probably i was expecting a lot more of it.i remember Ma telling me that she had begun to cry when she saw it first.through some tv channel or the other,we have seen the Taj-within and without.that's why,perhaps,the sense of mystery,the experience of comparing the real Taj to the Taj i built up in my mind and the feeling of becoming speechless eluded me.it is undoubtedly beautiful,but somehow i had expected it to be something much more than just that.
Bangalore was fun...the weather was a welcome change from the sub-zero temperatures we are subjected to,here in Delhi.the weather reminded me of home.i felt a weird sort of freedom when i walked alone-down Brigade Road-M.G Road manoeuvring my stroller over potholes and relishing the huge tub of "Drath by Chocolate".in a strange sort of a way,i grew up.i loved getting road directions in a forced and heavily accented hindi-i realised that i'm not the only prospective cast member for the latest series of "zabaan sambhal ke"(if they decide to start one,that is) in the country!
delhi failed in all its attempts to freeze us to death.the NSD theatre festival was an experience in itself,and getting to perform in it still seems like a dream.the Delhi Book Fair started a few days back.it's nice and all,but not quite like the one back home.the collection of books is great,but a book fair is not a book fair at all without serpentine queues and chaos.
"Book fair",for me,has beem a dream which came true every year-it was a dusty dream,it was a dream where people sat on newspapers spread on the ground,the dream smelt of the faraway candy floss vendor spinning out pink webs out of his magic pot.they didnt let it happen this time,i heard.i dont know if the people there miss the young boy who sat with his friends and played guitar over endless rounds of tea,but i do.i miss the sudden smile smiled after bumping into a familiar face in the crowd.in this cold city,i miss the waft of Benfish fish fry mingling with the excited breath of a crowd which doesnt know how to stop.a book fair out of home,is not a book fair at all.
things keep happening but life,somehow,goes on-much like the images which zoom past your eyes when you look through the glass eyepiece of those big colourful tin boxes.i saw them at the Surajkund Handicrafts' festivalbut dont know for sure what they're called...i think they call it "talkey baksho" in bengali.i had seen children in old movies watching "Agre ka Taj Mahal aur Dilli ka Qutb Minar" trough them.i saw through one at Surajkund-watched those images zoom past the eyepiece till suddenly the guy told me that my time's up.
maybe life's like that too-maybe it will stop suddenly while i'm in the middle of watching the world zoom past my eyes.