October 2, 2011

I was digging through some old files, and I came across this diary entry from last year. It's always interesting to read what you thought, felt and wrote about on a given day; it makes you see how things picture in the long run, how sometimes we place too much emphasis on things that are ultimately insignificant. Anyway, here goes:

"You can look at my house and tell the kind of phase I'm in. There is clutter everywhere, like in my mind. There are questions hanging like cobwebs from the walls, layers of doubts on the kitchen slab, clothes,like my thoughts are scattered. I wish I could collect myself, quickly, gracefully. I did not step out of the house till evening today, when I went to buy vegetables. And I saw that it had rained. It was still drizzling. I was too lazy to change so I was just wearing a jacket over the shabby top, and I felt the need to zip the jacket up at the vegetable store. I regretted that I came out after the sun had set. I hate missing sunsets. I think it is one of the most unfair things to happen that you were inside closed doors, doing nothing of much value, while the sky was painting a beautiful sunset for you. Last evening I accompanied a friend to the doctor, and we had conversations that lessened the burden on our hearts. She is a painter at heart, and an accidental engineer. It was like an exchange of songs between birds inadjacent cages. I explained my plans to her, and for a moment, they almost made sense. Talked to dadi today. I have not seen a 'proper' Durga Pooja for 6 years now. Thinking of DP still brings a smile. I remember feeling lost in the crowd at the Pandaals and clutching at Papa's hand. I remember planning which Pandaals we wanted to see by looking at their descriptions in the newspaper. I remember 'Shree Shree Durga Pooja Samiti' announcing, every year, that a child named 'Chotu' wearing navy blue half pants and a yellow shirt was lost, and that his parents could come to the announcement desk to take him. I always hoped he was found. I guess he was, every year. I remember being 13 and trying on a top I had bought for DP in front of mom's dressing table, and feeling 'beautiful'. 

I had a long chat with a friend yesterday, and we were talking about how life changes so quickly and suddenly. I remember reading a few pages of a book called 'Future Shock' which talked about how we as people might not be able to cope with the speed with which the world is changing. I guess that book was about changes in technology. But I wonder if its ok to live like this. To 'move on' and lock your past away in a black box. How do you always stop your mind from roving inside the restricted territory? If you ask me, I would say, talk about it, cry yourself hoarse, till a point that you are done doing that. That is the right way of 'moving on'. 'A' and I often discuss that we are a generation that has grown up in the cusp of change. We were there when telephones were becoming more 'common', cable TV had arrived, then computers, mobile phones, internet; in the process of growing up, life changed from street gulli dandaa to the point when you have a screen in front of you for everything. Somewhere, some part of me is still stuck in mango orchards and cassettes. I would have preferred a more 'gradual' change, perhaps."