Wednesday, May 26, 2010

On simpler times

This past Friday, as C and I sat down to eat at our second restaurant for the evening, we started to talk about simpler times when we were children and small things used to be special. We were spoiling ourselves by grabbing dinner at different places - falafel for me and dosas for him - and I couldn't help remembering how, when I was growing up, eating out was a luxury, reserved for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries or if your cousins were visiting for the Summer. You dressed up. And told your friends about it. It wasn't just getting dinner, you know?

There are many such things that I can think of. Like the only one hour in the week when you could watch cartoons on TV was Sundays, from 11 am to noon. My brother and I would wake up early, and wait with bated breath for the cartoons to begin. And we weren't the only ones. All of our friends would come over to our place and we would gather around the TV, riveted as He-man battled Skeletor, and Donald and Mickey did their tricks. On all other days, we would laugh and play in the park after school because there really wasn't much else to do. No internet. No cartoon network. You could only dream of a world where you could lie on a couch and watch cartoons all day.

Movies and songs were another luxury. Friday nights were reserved for Chitrahar on Doordarshan (Bollywood songs). My mom and aunt would rush us through dinner and clean up at what can only be described as lightning speed so that all of us could sit down and watch the only programme on TV that was entertainment for the whole family. In winters, I would bundle up in my mother's green shawl and snuggle next to her or my grandmother, as we collectively immersed ourselves in Bollywood numbers. My brother would invariably fall asleep and my dad would carry him to his bed. It is strange how some of the most lucid memories of my time with my family come from such seemingly banal occasions. But what seems ordinary now, used to be special then.

Thing is, it's amazing how far the world has come in terms of making what-used-to-be-luxuries, so easily available. Doubtlessly, my generation has seen the biggest leap. But I cannot help but wonder, if without moderation, things have a way of slowly losing their charm. Do we now have more things that we enjoy less? I don't know..

P.S.:I'm really sleepy, so please excuse any typos.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Happy Anniversary!

19th May, 2010

Dear Blog,

If you thought that I had forgotten our anniversary and only happened to recall it at this late hour and scrambled to put together this last-minute post as some sort of a cover-up, you are very much mistaken. That was the plan all along. I just like to play it cool.
Also, I trust you're not given to materialistic expectations like the perfect anniversary post that I agonized over for weeks. In any case, you got 33 of them last year, so you can't really complain. Of course, I understand your disappointment that I did not update my Facebook status touting this monumental milestone in my life to all my FB buddies, because you can't imagine why they wouldn't be interested. That is perfectly reasonable, and I will make it up to you by opening a twitter account and tweeting about us.
Now that that's settled, lets raise our glasses to an year and 33 posts! Happy Anniversary!
Oh, and I wish all those readers of ours, who like to quietly lurk and not talk to us, take this opportunity to break the ice and say hello. It would be really nice to connect, you know? :)


Thursday, May 6, 2010

With due consideration

I'm happy to note that I may have (perhaps only temporarily) reached a stage in my life where I actually think carefully before acting on an angry impulse. In the past few days many an email that was composed, sometimes in anger and sometimes in frustration, was not actually sent because I decided to give myself some cool down time before sending it, lest I should feel differently later. I'm sure everyone has sent at least one email in their lives that they have regretted. Well, I have sent many; and having sent that many, I must admit that it is somewhat gratifying to put all that emotion into words. It's hard not to resort to it every now and then, just because of its therapeutic qualities, but I've just learnt to be content with typing furiously away to let it all out and then silently hitting cancel (or saving a draft if I have a real winner, just in case).