People who look at me hardly believe it when I tell them I go walking every morning… Understandable, when I hardly leave the confines of my home. But, I do go along a familiar route every day. I stop like Robert frost, by the woods ( every morning , though ) and tell myself, I know whose woods are these…
I enter each one’s gates and savour the refreshing air in their garden… sometimes there are new blossoms… sometimes, the garden is in neglect… but the ritual has become a compulsive habit for me.
My route in blogspot takes me first to Ammani’s home… Ammani, who is the most creative writer of quick tales I have ever come across… I stumbled into her foodblog while googling for a recipe and unearthed a treasure chest of inspiration, talent and creativity. Her blog is my raison d’etre as a blogger. I started writing in her various interesting contests in her comments section … Ammani still remains my favourite…
My next trot is to Shoefiend’s. She is a close friend of Ammani’s and another great creator of tales. I was fascinated by her handle: ‘ my other shoes are manolos’… Ammani and Shoefiend are creative complementaries to each other…
From there I trot fast to ‘Ageless Bonding’ Usha. Usha is one intelligent woman and she writes beautifully on contemporary issues and of course personal rambles… I need to check in on her daily and enjoy the fragrance of her latest blog, which rejuvenates me, before dashing away to Anitha Murthy.
Anitha Murthy, another Bangalore blogger ( like Usha ) is a dedicated writer of fiction. Her short stories and novelettes are fascinating… but what I enjoyed the most in her garden were her Nonsense Rhymes and Six Degrees… Though I could do justice to Six Degrees, I could not create anything like her nonsense verses… They are sparkling gems… Her handle ‘Thought Raker’ is just apt for her!
From her place, I visit Hiphop Grandma… who is just that…. Very hip-hop. I can identify with her, as she is a teacher… a lecturer… whose blogs on her students and her own son are real life experiences…
Then I look in on shyam, a spunky young girl who speaks her mind and whose comments on current issues are so refreshingly candid that it is a pleasure to go through… I find myself nodding fiercely as I read her.
Now I peep into the garden of ponnarasi to see if anything has sprouted there… But she is also becoming an erratic blogger…
My next stopovers are quick ones… short soujorns to Chitraiyer, Boo’s Baby Talk and Madmomma… then a peep into Mahadevan’s compound, ganagjal’s , Mumbai girl’s, phoenix’s and Pisasu’s… Like Wee Willy Winkie… I go peeping in to as many gardens as possible…
I used to trespass, I guess, into some gardens like Akkare’s and Flotsam Jetsam’s enjoying all their orchids… but recently they have erected electric fences around their gardens, and access is denied to the occasional visitor like me… I need to get a Gate Pass …but I have not got around to that…
Sometimes, again like Robert Frost, I stand at the fork of Ammani’s or Usha’s blogsite and ponder…” Should I take a road not taken and explore new lovely new paths that lead from theirs…or should I stick to the familiarity of my regular blog-route? Like him I know the new path will lead me away from my normal route…each new diversion created by intriguing handles beckoning me to explore them…till I never return…
Yet, like Frost, I decide to take the road not taken and am delighted by new discoveries of talented writers…with amazing creativity and expression… and I sigh at the end of such a trek realizing what Frost meant when he wrote,
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”
I rarely let any of these people except Ammani know that I have visited them. Does that make me a tresspasser? I don’t know… I don’t trample on the beds, I don’t pluck their flowers to adorn my own home, I don’t leave foot marks behind… I enjoy their intellect… their creativity… There was a time when I was a resident in their neighbourhood… but it was as though someone had thrown an invisibility cloak on me which I just could not throw off… Not many knew that I even existed in that part of the blogosphere… May be my pseudonym put them off… I was random a4isms…
( concocted just after a brief liaison with Dan Brown… all codes… which fizzled out!) So I struggled like a larva inside the chrysalis, I struggled to break free and find my wings and flutter into freedom of expression where I will find admirers…
And I did… I shifted to a new neighbourhood called Sulekha and the rest is history… sorry… ‘Her Story’ – of recognition, instant gratification, of short term celebrityhood on getting featured, of fan mails and communication with the friendly neighbourhood boys and girls…
It is like a botanical garden with a wide variety of Flora and Fauna… Only, there’s no way I can pick a regular route. I peep, I peer…. I wander… I loiter… I stop by a small wood… stoop to smell a couple of roses.. I walk on in a haphazard manner… I can not chart a course… regular route? Not Possible. This is a democratic public garden… Anyone has access… and you can access anywhere…too many sightseers for your comfort. Till recently, even tresspassers were rampant in this garden of Eden - those poachers with their Copy Paste Electric saws. Felling and carrying away trees so painstakingly nurtured by others… compulsive kleptomaniacs with fingers itching to pluck flowers that blossom in someone’s corner…
The caretakers of the garden do let the visitors know of new blossoms, of their favourite kind… But it would be nice if residents like me can decide to stop by a cedar or a cherryblossom, a daffodil or a mighty oak, every morning and since I am allowed to, leave a couple of footprints around the beds and the soft earth that nourishes creative life!
That may involve more renovation inside the Botanical Garden… Anyway, the winds of change have been blowing inside the garden… Who knows? May be my words will be carried by these winds to the greenhouse where it will get preferential treatment and germinate as new facilities in individual dashboards… like the April Showers that bring May flowers…
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
My Reading Suffers Due to Blogical Interference
I have become a very erratic and undisciplined reader… Earlier I used to take a book and finish it… Today, I am reading 4 to 5 books at a time… absurd, isn’t it? Impossible? No!
I am currently reading Paulo Coelho’s ‘Like a Flowing River’, Shashi Tharoor’s ‘Bookless in Baghdad’ and ‘The Elephant, the Tiger and the Cell Phone’, Bill Bryson’s ‘Thunderbolt Kid’ and the ‘Chicken Soup for the African American Soul.’
And I am equally involved in all the books, enjoying every word that I read… At times I wonder why I have become like this. In the past, I used to finish books in single sittings. Or in straight shifts… in a week or less depending on the ‘unputdownableness’ of the book concerned. Like a Dan Brown… or the book by Sydney Sheldon called ‘Are You Afraid of the Dark’ which I finished in a reading marathon of six hours…. Or any of the Rowling sagas…
There was a time in my teen years when I used to devour book after book by Mills & Boons publications… But today, I start on a romance and within a few minutes with snorts of disgust and impatience toss it away and reach for a more serious read.
Obviously, I have changed… I can’t blame the books… books are eternal… humans and their whims and fancies ephimeral… Has age killed the romantic in me? No… because I read an Irish best seller by Sarah Webb. It was romantic… but it was also humourous, about people with whom I could identify… So obviously I enjoyed it.
So what is it about Paulo Coelho that I can identify myself with? My aunt is a fan of Coelho. I have access to his books in my favourite secondhand book shop… but I had never bothered to pick him off the shelf… But suddenly I get myself a copy of his reflections on life and his writings… like a compilation of his blogs… and I savour every word of his…including his fervent catholic sentiments…
Tharoor is a favourite… but both the books I have mentioned above are collections of essays published in newspapers and magazines…The diplomat and the writer in him are equally impressive. Bryson’s Thunderbolt Kid is more interesting than his other books, I feel…as I perceive in this book, an America of the 50’s… that seems to be full of genuine people… a country that has not yet started masquerading as world police…
I have half a dozen books untouched, still smelling brand new a V. S Naipaul, another Tharoor, a set of Richard Gordons, Musn’t Grumble by Joe Bennett, Marley and Me and Hills of Angheri by Kaveri Nambeesan. I don’t know when I will get round to finishing all these… for these days I seem to be buying books faster than reading them.
I miss reading books in Malayalam and Tamil. For these, I have to wait till I join my Mom. She is my reservoire of vernacular reads. Every year, when I visit her, she’ll have saved for me a few good books in Malayalam and Tamil which I finish during my visit of carry away with me… to be savoured at leisure. Only, my Tamil reading speed is pathetic. I finished a novel she had torn out of Ananda Vikatan or Kumudam and bound for me called ‘ Enge En Kannan’ in fifteen days… Absurd! When in that time I would have read five books in English or Malayalam.
My handicap with Tamil is mainly because I never read the language when I was young. I knew the Tamil alphabet but that was that. I was exposed to Malayalam books at school and college libraries. In fact, the maximum number of Malayalam books, I have read were during the two years I spent in Thiruvananthapuram for my post graduation… I was put up in YWCA while pursuing my Masters in English Language and Literature at the Institute of English and my friends were pursuing their Masters in Malayalam … Those two years exposed me to the best in Malayalam literature… Besides, a class-fellow of mine was the son of an eminent Malayalam writer and this sparked off a curiosity in me about him and I borrowed volumes from the university library…. though much of his kind of writing was not my cup of tea at the time.
I can read Kannada fairly well…. Though I have not bothered to read short stories or novels in the language… again, due to lack of self-motivation!
Tamil, Malayalam or English, reading is like breathing for me. I feel I shall die the day I am unable to read…
When I analyze why my reading has become erratic, I can find only one scapegoat… Blogging! I keep straying to the PC to check status quos and latest posts and comments, tossing my book aside. In fact, blogging has created in me an ‘attention deficit disorder syndrome’… Am metamorphosing into a butterfly, flitting from blog to blog… It is immature to pass the buck like this… but my behavioural changes seem to have occurred in the last couple of years… and it needs no psychiatrist to confirm my obsessive behaviour when it comes to blogging!
The counter-argument is that blogging is also reading of another kind… and when I read works of the same blogger, it is like reading chapters of a book… Some consolation eh?
But then, I hate e-books. I don’t enjoy staring onto the monitor screen while reading a book. Scrolling the page is a nightmare compared a fluid motion like turning a page. And flipping back a few pages to re read some point or some passage is more satisfying than manipulating the pages on monitor screen!
No! Books shall never be replaced by e-books… or blogs… Of course, blog posts may get compiled into books…
So… my problem is caused by blogical interference… But there’s hope… I know that blogs are just for instant gratification… Books, long spells in paradise!
I am currently reading Paulo Coelho’s ‘Like a Flowing River’, Shashi Tharoor’s ‘Bookless in Baghdad’ and ‘The Elephant, the Tiger and the Cell Phone’, Bill Bryson’s ‘Thunderbolt Kid’ and the ‘Chicken Soup for the African American Soul.’
And I am equally involved in all the books, enjoying every word that I read… At times I wonder why I have become like this. In the past, I used to finish books in single sittings. Or in straight shifts… in a week or less depending on the ‘unputdownableness’ of the book concerned. Like a Dan Brown… or the book by Sydney Sheldon called ‘Are You Afraid of the Dark’ which I finished in a reading marathon of six hours…. Or any of the Rowling sagas…
There was a time in my teen years when I used to devour book after book by Mills & Boons publications… But today, I start on a romance and within a few minutes with snorts of disgust and impatience toss it away and reach for a more serious read.
Obviously, I have changed… I can’t blame the books… books are eternal… humans and their whims and fancies ephimeral… Has age killed the romantic in me? No… because I read an Irish best seller by Sarah Webb. It was romantic… but it was also humourous, about people with whom I could identify… So obviously I enjoyed it.
So what is it about Paulo Coelho that I can identify myself with? My aunt is a fan of Coelho. I have access to his books in my favourite secondhand book shop… but I had never bothered to pick him off the shelf… But suddenly I get myself a copy of his reflections on life and his writings… like a compilation of his blogs… and I savour every word of his…including his fervent catholic sentiments…
Tharoor is a favourite… but both the books I have mentioned above are collections of essays published in newspapers and magazines…The diplomat and the writer in him are equally impressive. Bryson’s Thunderbolt Kid is more interesting than his other books, I feel…as I perceive in this book, an America of the 50’s… that seems to be full of genuine people… a country that has not yet started masquerading as world police…
I have half a dozen books untouched, still smelling brand new a V. S Naipaul, another Tharoor, a set of Richard Gordons, Musn’t Grumble by Joe Bennett, Marley and Me and Hills of Angheri by Kaveri Nambeesan. I don’t know when I will get round to finishing all these… for these days I seem to be buying books faster than reading them.
I miss reading books in Malayalam and Tamil. For these, I have to wait till I join my Mom. She is my reservoire of vernacular reads. Every year, when I visit her, she’ll have saved for me a few good books in Malayalam and Tamil which I finish during my visit of carry away with me… to be savoured at leisure. Only, my Tamil reading speed is pathetic. I finished a novel she had torn out of Ananda Vikatan or Kumudam and bound for me called ‘ Enge En Kannan’ in fifteen days… Absurd! When in that time I would have read five books in English or Malayalam.
My handicap with Tamil is mainly because I never read the language when I was young. I knew the Tamil alphabet but that was that. I was exposed to Malayalam books at school and college libraries. In fact, the maximum number of Malayalam books, I have read were during the two years I spent in Thiruvananthapuram for my post graduation… I was put up in YWCA while pursuing my Masters in English Language and Literature at the Institute of English and my friends were pursuing their Masters in Malayalam … Those two years exposed me to the best in Malayalam literature… Besides, a class-fellow of mine was the son of an eminent Malayalam writer and this sparked off a curiosity in me about him and I borrowed volumes from the university library…. though much of his kind of writing was not my cup of tea at the time.
I can read Kannada fairly well…. Though I have not bothered to read short stories or novels in the language… again, due to lack of self-motivation!
Tamil, Malayalam or English, reading is like breathing for me. I feel I shall die the day I am unable to read…
When I analyze why my reading has become erratic, I can find only one scapegoat… Blogging! I keep straying to the PC to check status quos and latest posts and comments, tossing my book aside. In fact, blogging has created in me an ‘attention deficit disorder syndrome’… Am metamorphosing into a butterfly, flitting from blog to blog… It is immature to pass the buck like this… but my behavioural changes seem to have occurred in the last couple of years… and it needs no psychiatrist to confirm my obsessive behaviour when it comes to blogging!
The counter-argument is that blogging is also reading of another kind… and when I read works of the same blogger, it is like reading chapters of a book… Some consolation eh?
But then, I hate e-books. I don’t enjoy staring onto the monitor screen while reading a book. Scrolling the page is a nightmare compared a fluid motion like turning a page. And flipping back a few pages to re read some point or some passage is more satisfying than manipulating the pages on monitor screen!
No! Books shall never be replaced by e-books… or blogs… Of course, blog posts may get compiled into books…
So… my problem is caused by blogical interference… But there’s hope… I know that blogs are just for instant gratification… Books, long spells in paradise!
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