Pages

Sunday, November 13, 2011

The Daily Riff Raff

To begin with, they all wrote off Ra. One. Yes, they all thought it was a piece of trash, copied, duplicated, influenced and all of it, unsuccessfully. To all that I say-SURE. I know I’ve seen Spy Kids, Demolition Man, Terminator, Iron Man, He Man, Hanu Man, etc. However, this guy, this man, Shahrukh. He still makes me skip a beat, blue eyed or not, ra one’d or not. And till the time that skipping continues, I shall remain faithful. And I shall also whistle, scream and hoot in the hall, even if no one gives me company (as happened recently). Who cares. Who care who cares I say. Who cares, traaa laa laa laa…

Coming back to life. I’ve realized something, over ten months. Actually, two things. One. Life is nothing without work. And the moment your work becomes your life, you have no life. So basically. The two have a symbiotic-cum-parasitic relationship. One must die to let the other live. Kind of like Harry Potter and Voldermort. “Neither can live while the other survives.”

Secondly, when it comes to books, nothing and I repeat, nothing can beat the classics. I mean, seriously. Can you imagine how these writers came up with a Rhett Butler, Howard Roak, and Heathcliff, in those times. These are the creations of a fertile, creative and non-confirmist mind. Today, as I read more and more contemporary literature, I realize, that no matter how gripping, exciting and over-whelming the plot may be, my association, lingering memory is always latched to characters. For example, when I think of ‘The Quiet american’, by Graham Greene  more than the Vietnam war and the Third party controversies, I think of  Thomas Folwer, his cynicism, his ideologies and his  non-challance. Either the latest books have some fundamental problem with weaving the plot with the personalities, or they’re too busy telling a story. And this format, has me lost and distracted. Ofcourse, not every author is not worth all the fame, there are some. But let’s just say. If I walk into a library (virtual or real), I will invariably walk into the moldy, rusting section of the books long forgotten.

New year is round the corner and plans are all up in the air. Let’s hope this new year too, turns out to be as good, or better as the previous year. For now, there’s a piling stack of unending work glaring at me. I must battle with it. I must win, and I must win fast (before 7 PM, atleast).

For later, tchus