The Sign of Four

Right now, I have a lot of things to write. But I know that by the time I devise a way to put them all together in one piece, I'll either deviate into writing something 'more serious' [sic] or get too bored with attempting something on such a huge scale and leave it unfinished, thereby inducing a well known side effect-'an unpublished entry'. And so, in keeping with my endeavour in trying to keep the 'devising' bit out of my writing, I'll keep it more straightforward.

Subject 1 - All right, first things first. I have finally, finally gotten my hands on Nabokov's Pale Fire. Though it isn't mine to scribble in and revel in possession(it's a library book), it still is the book I probably wanted to read more than anything else in my whole wide, little book world and tonight calls for a celebration, which means a faster reading of Pynchon's Vineland. Not to take anything away from Pynchon here. In fact, he's so damn good that I was actually thinking about attempting a comprehensive review of the book which, might not be a big deal for most books but is for this one. [I'm not known for making bets but here's one- I bet 99 people out of 100 will put down this book before they reach the twentieth page. Challenges are invited.] He's crammed more of America into this book than most authors do in their lifetimes. I'd heard a lot about him before reading this but now, nothing's enough. Ah, by the way, there was this unwritten blog entry that was supposed to deal with the quintessential American novel and-behold!-American symbolism in Kamal's Dasavatharam. Sorry to disappoint you here but I promised myself earlier I wasn't gonna digress too much. Maybe some other night. Tonight's for Nabokov and Pynchon.

Subject 2 - Coldplay's new album rocks. It absolutely does. Thanks again Martin. Don't forget to tell the others.

Subject 3 - This is a bit old by subject 1's standards but last week, Lucas Podolski scored against Poland. Twice. Of all the things that could've happened. Oh.

For the sake of clarity here, let me elaborate. Podolski is a Polish-born striker who plays for Germany and I'm referring to the Euro 08 league match between Germany and Poland. Now, you see the irony? To his credit, he didn't celebrate after scoring. And the expression on his face right after tapping the ball home into the net, is what made me write this. Of course, he voluntarily made a decision to play for Germany and everything that happens ensues from it but still, I hope Germany aren't drawn with Poland again. Atleast as long as Podolski's around. And if they do, I pray to hell he doesn't score. There's too much pain in this world already.

Subject 4 - Have you ever felt that you feel like carting your life away to a whole new place only so you can get more out of the place you are in?

Hmmmm, I'll not write more on this here lest I get into a frame of writing people are more than familiar with. I will not. I will not. I will not.
Oh, for god's sake, Dheeraj, have an open mind.

The sixteenth dream

"Those who are dead are not dead
They're just living in my head..."
- "42" [Coldplay/Viva La Vida]

A dream that was once a reality now languishes in memory as a dream, never to be real again. But then again, what is life, if not a dream woven out of innumerable dreams like an ocean that doesn't know where one drop begins and the other ends?

Maybe one day, again, I would show him my report card and a broad smile would appear on his face, there would be another pat on my back, another 'Fantastic!' in the air as an old grey cassette player by the side sang "Main pal do pal ka shayar hoon...". I didn't know then what I had done to make him so happy. But then, I never knew a lot of things. I don't know when that cassette player stopped working and we bought a new one, I don't know when I stopped caring about report cards and I don't know when the word 'fantastic' ceased to be just a word. The ignorance that is all that remains of a lost life.

Today is the sixteenth. Next year, it will be the seventeenth. But then, it would be another day. Another dream.