When in doubt, play trump- it was one of the rules of that 'intelligent game' - Bridge that my dad taught me. needless to say, I am not so good at it, despite the occasional streak of amazing luck. know people who would rather endorse- When in doubt, have coffee. So what is it that I do when in doubt? What do I keep returning to- when I really don’t know what to do. When I need to recover some sense of self? Or achieve a state of unawareness about the problems beseting the self. Atheist that I am, God and prayer are not an option despite an occasional yearning for the qawwalis in Nizamuddin dargah. So what is my pilgrimage?
- Tea.
Cant think, cant write, cant read, cant sleep, depressed, bored- my first instinct is to get myself a cup of tea. I hope that once that beverage has seeped into my blood system, something would miraculously occur. But at least with writing, there is no such thing- its back to hard work with words, even as the cuppa adorns the desk. But the power of faith- the kettle continues to boil in my house.
- Pride and Prejudice
My copy of the book is in near tatters; if its pages could speak it will tell you of the great diversity of moods with which they have been held. I keep discovering meanings, I keep marvelling at the insights and the prejudices of the writer, and especially wondering if people ever spoke like that, whether conversations could really be so nuanced and yet spontaneous. Other Austens beckon too, but this is the one with the irresistible pull.
- Monumenting
The thing I miss the most in the city I live! A historical monument gives me a sense of calm. Even the ones teeming with tourists. Somehow, all that din just doesn’t register or is a murmur in the background. I could be happier without it, so I really prefer the not-on-the-ten spots to visit-list of any place. A drizzly cloudy day or a winter afternoon is ideal, but when the craving begins, heat or humidity doesn’t matter. The impediment is of course the illogical timings decided by ASI and liberally modified by the guards- I am still seething from not being able to enter urgasain ki baoli recently. A glimpse of the steps leading to the well only flamed the desire to be there. Monuments, especially the medieval ones littering
- Cleaning
This is a confession. When my brain is blocked, the dusting cloth is my best friend. I rearrange furniture, put clothes into order, sort out bills, scraps of paper I cant made head or tail of, get around to disposing old newspapers, make lists of things to do and a timetable to be followed henceforth. By the next cleaning session, millions of timetables have added up and face the wrath of an unceremonious expulsion. I have perfected the art of ‘making a fresh start’. When life is smooth, the house is in perfect disorder.
