It's been seven long years. (And yes, I am a day or two late).
Seven years is supposed to be the the duration at which you start to get bored. At least, that's what they say about marriage, although I guess most people were too busy trying to look under Marilyn's skirt in that movie to notice the message. In fact, I have never held a hobby this long. (Except pretending to be a batsmen in my childhood. An illusion that was shattered along with my stumps many times over, but let's not go there).
This has been more than a hobby. It has been a way for me to capture some memories... I have tried to be a a tourist capturing some interesting vignettes on this amazing trip called life. Of course, most times, I end up writing lame rhymes or really bad PJs, but when I look back, I notice that I have managed to put down some lines which remind me of a simpler life. When one worried more about a surprise quiz than the home loan EMI.
No matter how many times those 'success gurus' preach about 'living in the moment', I guess it is human nature to occasionally look back and get all nostalgic in life. A fact that was brought home this weekend when I decided to clear out some clutter in the process of shifting my house. Every scrap of paper that I threw away, be it an old greeting card given by my then-students that had become dog-eared, or those books that I had lovingly collected, or that favourite tee which I had worn once too many and which no longer fits. That is the thing with tangible things, they tear, get worn out, break down and ultimately have to be left behind.
Hence, I am doubly grateful for this virtual space, where I can go back in time whenever I want, smile a little at the immature stuff I wrote (and still do), get embarrassed about some inane posts, and although I really want to disown some of them, I tell myself that these are my posts. They may not be perfect, they may not even be good, but they are still mine. Deep down, they are me.
Although I keep thinking it is time I abandoned this space, since I hardly have anything original to say any more (and whatever little I have, I spew on facebook and twitter), something stops me from doing so.
So, I'll keep this alive, if only to continue some traditions. Like a post celebrating the blog's birthday, and another for mine. Or whining on V-day.
The more things change, the more I want some of them to remain the same.
Seven years is supposed to be the the duration at which you start to get bored. At least, that's what they say about marriage, although I guess most people were too busy trying to look under Marilyn's skirt in that movie to notice the message. In fact, I have never held a hobby this long. (Except pretending to be a batsmen in my childhood. An illusion that was shattered along with my stumps many times over, but let's not go there).
This has been more than a hobby. It has been a way for me to capture some memories... I have tried to be a a tourist capturing some interesting vignettes on this amazing trip called life. Of course, most times, I end up writing lame rhymes or really bad PJs, but when I look back, I notice that I have managed to put down some lines which remind me of a simpler life. When one worried more about a surprise quiz than the home loan EMI.
No matter how many times those 'success gurus' preach about 'living in the moment', I guess it is human nature to occasionally look back and get all nostalgic in life. A fact that was brought home this weekend when I decided to clear out some clutter in the process of shifting my house. Every scrap of paper that I threw away, be it an old greeting card given by my then-students that had become dog-eared, or those books that I had lovingly collected, or that favourite tee which I had worn once too many and which no longer fits. That is the thing with tangible things, they tear, get worn out, break down and ultimately have to be left behind.
Hence, I am doubly grateful for this virtual space, where I can go back in time whenever I want, smile a little at the immature stuff I wrote (and still do), get embarrassed about some inane posts, and although I really want to disown some of them, I tell myself that these are my posts. They may not be perfect, they may not even be good, but they are still mine. Deep down, they are me.
Although I keep thinking it is time I abandoned this space, since I hardly have anything original to say any more (and whatever little I have, I spew on facebook and twitter), something stops me from doing so.
So, I'll keep this alive, if only to continue some traditions. Like a post celebrating the blog's birthday, and another for mine. Or whining on V-day.
The more things change, the more I want some of them to remain the same.
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