Date: 18th September 2013
Time: 7:14 pm IST
Place: Premlok Park, Akurdi, Pune, India
Sigh. I am staring at my keyboard wondering what to write about. It's strange. A while ago, my fingers were restless to type out some salacious little stream of thoughts that had paid me a visit when the Internet had gone down. The Internet was down for a while. BSNL is such a rascal. Okay, I take it back - it's not a rascal. I took it back because I don't want them to give me trouble. Something I have had enough of in the past week...
I looked out of my window just now. A white heron flew past it as the sky beyond turned an ash blue. Ash blue. I wonder how skies turn ash blue and no one calls the colour so. It's ash because it feels like the blur flakes of ashes throw into your cornea and it's blue because - well - it's blue. There's no other way of describing that unless of course you want to get very specific and call it light cobalt or a myriad other shades - something (I noticed) girls are very familiar with...
Mother hurried into my room just now. "I forgot to tell you," she said, "Sonu Nigam won for music." How could I be bothered, really. So I said just that. "How could I be bothered?" I said, raising my palm and curling it into a question. "No I am just telling you. How could he get it? He's nowhere in music these days."
At that point in time, I would not have flicked an eyelash even if I had won the bloody award. I was in that state wherein you don't think much about anybody, anything, or anywhere at all. It's a blissful state for in one sweep, you level every achievement won by anybody down to being one and the same: Useless and boring.
That's exactly what I thought about those awards Mother was referring to. Earlier, when the Internet connection was down and I had walked into the hall to catch up on some television, she informed me that Aishwarya Rai had won the best actress award.
"What?" I exclaimed, "how can she? She has not even been acting lately!"
"That only no? I wonder why they gave her!"
It was then that I lost interest in those awards. And that disinterest followed me back to my bedroom (when the Internet connection began to work all over again) and blew up into a general discontent and disinterest in every other thing to be mentioned thereafter...
Frankly speaking, I sometimes think awards are overrated simply because there are too many of them these days. And it's very evident no one is paying attention to quality when choosing their recipients. It's rather strange. Awards are supposed to endorse and acknowledge the acumen of the person concerned. These days they endorse the popularity of the awardees instead! Remember there's a difference between popularity and acumen. A being with acumen may not always be popular and the one popular - almost always - does not ever have a fragment of acumen to call his or her own...
An insect has decided to make some noise near my window. I am sure, to the insect, that noise may be quite a complicated symphony. To me though, it's a piercing sharp high-pitched stream of noise. I can almost visualize it - the noise - sitting in the corner of the window as the night cloaks the gallery beyond in black. I can see the shadows of the grills fall on the wall that holds the left side of the corner and I can sense myself approaching the corner.
But I do not see my shadow. And the noise is nowhere in sight though my ears irritate me enough to believe it's somewhere there in the black of the gallery and the corner of the window...
Time: 7:14 pm IST
Place: Premlok Park, Akurdi, Pune, India
Sigh. I am staring at my keyboard wondering what to write about. It's strange. A while ago, my fingers were restless to type out some salacious little stream of thoughts that had paid me a visit when the Internet had gone down. The Internet was down for a while. BSNL is such a rascal. Okay, I take it back - it's not a rascal. I took it back because I don't want them to give me trouble. Something I have had enough of in the past week...
I looked out of my window just now. A white heron flew past it as the sky beyond turned an ash blue. Ash blue. I wonder how skies turn ash blue and no one calls the colour so. It's ash because it feels like the blur flakes of ashes throw into your cornea and it's blue because - well - it's blue. There's no other way of describing that unless of course you want to get very specific and call it light cobalt or a myriad other shades - something (I noticed) girls are very familiar with...
Mother hurried into my room just now. "I forgot to tell you," she said, "Sonu Nigam won for music." How could I be bothered, really. So I said just that. "How could I be bothered?" I said, raising my palm and curling it into a question. "No I am just telling you. How could he get it? He's nowhere in music these days."
At that point in time, I would not have flicked an eyelash even if I had won the bloody award. I was in that state wherein you don't think much about anybody, anything, or anywhere at all. It's a blissful state for in one sweep, you level every achievement won by anybody down to being one and the same: Useless and boring.
That's exactly what I thought about those awards Mother was referring to. Earlier, when the Internet connection was down and I had walked into the hall to catch up on some television, she informed me that Aishwarya Rai had won the best actress award.
"What?" I exclaimed, "how can she? She has not even been acting lately!"
"That only no? I wonder why they gave her!"
It was then that I lost interest in those awards. And that disinterest followed me back to my bedroom (when the Internet connection began to work all over again) and blew up into a general discontent and disinterest in every other thing to be mentioned thereafter...
Frankly speaking, I sometimes think awards are overrated simply because there are too many of them these days. And it's very evident no one is paying attention to quality when choosing their recipients. It's rather strange. Awards are supposed to endorse and acknowledge the acumen of the person concerned. These days they endorse the popularity of the awardees instead! Remember there's a difference between popularity and acumen. A being with acumen may not always be popular and the one popular - almost always - does not ever have a fragment of acumen to call his or her own...
An insect has decided to make some noise near my window. I am sure, to the insect, that noise may be quite a complicated symphony. To me though, it's a piercing sharp high-pitched stream of noise. I can almost visualize it - the noise - sitting in the corner of the window as the night cloaks the gallery beyond in black. I can see the shadows of the grills fall on the wall that holds the left side of the corner and I can sense myself approaching the corner.
But I do not see my shadow. And the noise is nowhere in sight though my ears irritate me enough to believe it's somewhere there in the black of the gallery and the corner of the window...
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