I lost my voice. It's been quite a while since I last heard from "it".
So I have been indulging in some serious blogreading lately. The blogsphere is so full of writers who can wax eloquent on everything from Dubyaman, Didi, Kurosawa, Coelho, games, comics, movies to mundane things like leching, enduring bad roads and traffic jams. I came across witty, humorous writers, who can pick upon just anything and make a riot out of it; and the more serious ones who want to talk of government banalities or debate over moralities, poverty in India, the Tsunami, etc and some others who review films, books, music. The list goes on and on... Sometimes I stop and wish I could meet this one and that, coz I love their writings...but am afraid. Afraid of falling in love, of being disapponted... because: Readers who meet writers whose voice they have fallen in love with usually need to make a small adjustment in order to hang on to their infatuation. Even though I live in the land of swalpa adjust maadi , am not really famous for making any adjustment. So, move on...
And while I was happily scouting through the airy and blissful blogsphere, as an excuse for losing my writing skills, our firung publisher here on earth lost his cool at some board meeting and stomped out screaming expletives. Never to return. Am told the Indain (NRI) VC's taking full control. I can only await (holding my breath) the major announcement scheduled for 6 pm today.
In the meantime, a colleague gave some reason to flex those muscles around my lips. The chai fellow came and served her coffee in the ex-publisher's green coffee mug! And she decided to come across and ask me what I thought of her drinking coffee in his mug (like y should I bother anyway). In my most nonchalant and disinterested tone (after all she was disturbing my blogreading) told her, "After 6pm you're either gonna be the woman on top or be stomping out of this office." She laughed it off, but promptly went off to change her cup. She was back with another one. Blue, and cribbing: "Just for you, now I have to be content with this broken one." No comments this time...just broken threads of thought. Hunting, searching frantically for the voice.
* Standing atop a hill* : Hellooo...helloooo....can you hear me? (STD now @ Re. 1).
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6 comments:
its funny how the interesting moments of thought hide behind the daily drudgery of work. Screaming bosses are however good excuses to lose your voice. The mag world always looked like a venerable sitcom to me, charcaters could be as magical (in a very bizzare way) like Cuelho's threads of magic realism.
Some poeple find music in silence. Pl. let me know if u find any.
regards, and getwellsoon-wishes.
Thanks for your wishes. And no there's nothing COelhoesque about this place. But just the love of something new keeps me going. And like I said in an earlier post, my boss is a total sweetheart..at least till now.
And I find methodless madness in silence. For me, it's a killer.
eta besh bhalo hoeyche. and disappointment notwithstanding, it eej bheri good thing to come to blogmeets once in a while. such as august 15th.
@eric: thanks. will check it out.
@Kaashyapeya: Absolutely honoured. Tell me how do I recognise "bloggers" from their faces, considering 'pensive pencil sketches' are all I get to view? ;-). Do let me know.venue ki abar barista? Family allowed?
ummm...one clicks on link titled "hindu rant" under "footprints on print" to see the face of evil
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