I have this disease. Its the compulsive need to right click and open in new tab. My ability to hoard links I want to read is much greater than my enthusiasm to plough through them all. VC often asks me what sometimes keeps me glued to my computer, no typing, no clicking, no work to do even! It is this. Jumping links, clicking through anything even remotely interesting and most times I end up with a browser full of open tabs that stay that way for weeks on end. Until one fine day when I decide I’m going to read and close them. Invariably, I save the good reads and here’s some stuff from my clean up yesterday.
Tuesday saw the most gorgeous evening sky, flecked with rows of fluffy bits of clouds. After the rain has fallen (yes rain!) things have cleared up a lot around here. What’s the weather been like in your part of the world? After a week of unbearable heat, the hottest day in the last decade and many litres of sweat later, I ranted about it here. Only to be woken up by the crash of lightning and torrential rain, exactly 24 hours later. It was wonderful alright, because it didn’t stop for over 30 hours. And it was heavy like the kind of rain we see mid-June. The weekend was wet, temperatures dropped by ten degrees and it was just fabulous to have cold mornings, use two blankets at night and pretend like this is normal. Because the truth is its anything but normal. October is usually hotter than summer. We are well into the transition towards winter, which means the monsoons are long gone by now. But this freak shift in weather was attributed to the cyclonic depression that was building in the Arabian Sea and headed towards the coasts of Kuttch, Pakistan and above.
We underestimate the power nature has over us, as we go around mercilessly stripping green cover, plundering the environment in the name of industry and development. And then we wonder where these weather changes are coming from. We mess around with the natural balance of our eco-systems, and we think cleaning up our act is merely done by sweeping streets and collecting garbage. El Nino is well and truly here. Climate change is no longer a distant threat for us to worry about, but a present disaster that’s only going to show up as extreme weather changes more frequently now. I don’t know how long its going to take before we realise that rapid development and conserving our environment are not mutually exclusive. Somewhere, we need to measure how much development is too much development, and for that we need to think about how much we really need. Because what we need above all is clean air, water and the ground beneath our feet. Without that, everything else is kind of moot.
So stoked that @Lalitude is writing a weekly column that I can follow again. 9 our of 10 times, her words echo my feelings, and since she’s keeping it topical I find myself nodding my head vigorously, or sharing the link with a couple of friends I know will understand or feel the same way, or posting it on fb and twitter. In her most recent column about Diwali she writes about how much the celebration has changed since was growing up, recollecting tradition, questioning it, pondering the point of continuing it — and I read her column with much nostalgia and a flood of memories that rushed back to mind. A second time over, since I wrote this.
P of Peppercorns In My Pocket fame (currently one of my most loved blogs) has a new piece of fiction published. Bilet — a bitter-sweet story about home, moving away and the distance in between. Tender as her words are, and sweet and flowing as her style is, the story reads like her blog does — peppered with tiny details one could easily gloss over, but that she manages to soothe tiny breaths of life into. It’s not often that I look at a blog and wish I they’d write a book. But P’s writing makes me wish she would, really soon.
I don’t plan to watch Happy New Year, but I am really glad I read a few reviews. They’re probably more entertaining than the movie will ever be. After a long, long time I found a Vigil Idiot review that had me in splits. I love that SRK is a bunch of crumpled up pumped abs, making him look like a staircase. The skunk on his head is the cherry on top! And then there’s Deepika, who is just legs. Squiggles never made me laugh so much. And then there’s this review by Blogeswari that spoke to the South Indian in me, and I think SRK needs to call himself Saarugaan more often. It suits him.
And while we’re on the funnies, have you checked out Anti Serious? Such a fabulous idea for our times of too much seriousness. I had a gut-rippingly hearty laugh reading this piece. Babugiri will never be the same and I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to keep a straight face when I hear the word Babu being uttered.
When I reached the point where I could ignore period cramps, which was previously the only thing to keep me from exercising, to hit the gym and continue training, I knew I had crossed over and gone into the dark side completely. But the dark side, is the happier side. I’ve joked about being addicted, called myself a junkie and shamelessly admitted to being a little uncompromising about my exercise. This article explains why exercising is no different from taking drugs, and maybe it’s no surprise why its easy to get high and get addicted?
This article presents a point of view I have never thought about, and I loved how refreshingly different it is from the constant stream of loving cooking that I am usually in. I have some days when I don’t want to have anything to do with the kitchen. I jump on board wiht the idea of ordering in like a kid in a candy store. I love Sunday mornings when I can stay out of the kitchen and VC makes me breakfast. So to read this — “In my childlike innocence, I didn’t understand that the point of cooking isn’t fun or even duty, but rather to try to give someone something only you can give. It is all supposed to appear selfless” — was completely refreshing. And then there’s this — “Certainly, some part of my mother enjoyed making pies, and probably, when she first learned, she loved it. But then pie-making became something to get to the other side of. The prize was not the pie, but being the wonderful person who had made the pie, and this seemed like a stressful situation as you could guarantee the existence of the pie, but not of sufficient praise and attention as to have made the pie worth creating.” I do love to cook for the most part, but I cannot deny the times it does turn into a mindless chore, and the many times I want to have nothing to do with it. Sometimes there’s no better way to say it, but to admit that cooking sucks. And that probably explains the troughs and spikes I have with my enthusiasm for it.
That said, I want to also share this lovely piece form the New Yorker, about Bread and Women. If you like to bake, or you like bread, or women, or both, you might find this as interesting as I did. I don’t want to say anything more.
That’s it, folks, until my next link clean-up!