"Maakhan-chor"

'And since I've took to general reading, you've took to general writing, eh, sir?' sad Mr. Omer, surveying me admiringly. 'What a lovely work that was of yours! What expressions in it! I read it every word - every word. And as to feeling sleepy! Not at all!'

I laughingly expressed my satisfaction, but I must confess that I thought this association of ideas significant.

-Charles Dickens, David Copperfield.

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This reminds me of an incident of my childhood, one that, in fact, I brought up in conversation with my family barely a couple of weeks ago.

But first, a little bit of a prologue. When we were little children, Piggie and I, we both loved mummy's home-made (as it is always made in India) fresh curd. We especially loved the cream floating on the top, and fought for it fiercely. Of course, mummy served us with equal portions but each of us would try to get the "bigger half" if possible. By fair means, usually. And, to be really honest, I haven't outgrown that yet... when I was home last I insisted on being served more than a half "because you get it all the time, and I don't". And if Piggie tried to argue, she was silenced by a mere mention of the incident I'm about to relate.

That day, I think it was a holiday, one of the rare days me and Pigg were home for lunch. Mummy had it all served and ready for us to get to it. I might mention that the curd (with "equal" cream) was sitting in two little bowls, one for each of us. Just before sitting at the table, I said I wished to use the bathroom, and absented myself for a couple of minutes. I got back to the table, and with a mental 'cheers!' to the yogurt, I was about to dip the spoon into my bowl, when Piglett irrelevantly commented, "And I did not eat any of your cream!"

Of course, then I looked closer at my bowl and found the cream conspicuous by its absence. I would've stolen her bowl of yogurt but for the fact that she had, very circumspectly, eaten the cream in her bowl too, in anticipation of my action.

Thinking of which, I might add, I am not at all surprised at her chosen career. Little "Liar!"

The "Little One"

By the bye, just thought I'll mention that the previous post ("Donkies!" for The Piglett) was my first post composed on my new laptop, an urgent and necessary purchase made last week because the old one suddenly gave up the ghost, leaving me friendless and alone and unconnected of an evening, in my little room. I was thinking of it come Thanksgiving anyway, but it had to be now.

Nothing too special or too powerful about the new baby, pretty much it's biggest advantage being it's affordability... but, hopefully, in time, I should be able to accessorise and enhance it's functionality. For now, I'm content with a stronger battery, a wider screen, inbuilt wireless connectivity and CD-DVD R/W/RW, over the older system - the higher RAM and memory being a given, of course.

I did grieve over my old laptop for a while - there's not too much data in it luckily, but a lot of pictures, music, etc., and more than anything else, having worked it really hard for the research and writing of my Master's thesis and subsequent attainment of the degree gives it a claim on my affections that the new Baby still has to strive for.

I am still hoping that I'll be able to get out the data I seem to have lost on the old system, I'll have to figure out how. Hopefully that will happen soon, too.

"Donkies!" for The Piglett

'So you have left Mr. Dick behind, aunt?' said I. 'I am sorry for that. Ah, Janet, how do you do?'

As Janet curtsied, hoping I was well, I observed my aunt's visage lengthen very much.

'I am sorry for it, too,' said my aunt, rubbing her nose. 'I have had no peace of mind, Trot, since I have been here.'

Before I could ask why, she told me.

'I am convinced,' said my aunt; laying her hand with melancholy firmness on the table, 'that Dick's character is not a character to keep the donkies off. I am confident he wants strength of purpose. I ought to have left Janet at home, instead, and then my mind might perhaps have been at ease. If ever there was a donkey trespassing on my green,' said my aunt, with emphasis, 'there was one this afternoon at four o'clock. A cold feeling came over me from head to foot, and I know it was a donkey!'

I tried to comfort her on this point, but she rejected consolation.

'It was a donkey,' said my aunt; 'and it was the one with the stumpy tail which that Murdering sister of a woman rode, when she came to my house.' This had been, ever since, the only name my aunt knew for Miss Murdstone. 'If there is any donkey in Dover, whose audacity it is harder to me to bear than another's, that,' said my aunt, striking the table, 'is the animal!'

Janet ventured to suggest that my aunt might be disturbing herself unnecessarily, and that she believed the donkey in question was then engaged in the sand and gravel line of business, and was not available for purposes of trespass. But my aunt wouldn't hear of it.

-Charles Dickens, David Copperfield
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I have never outgrown my charm of this author, and most particularly, of this book, although there is no dearth of selections of favorite passages one might make from his works. (Another of my favorites being the first paragraph of A Tale... which begins with 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; ....' Remember?) For me, though, David Copperfield has always been an absolute classic, all the elements of a good book blended therein, with one of the most talented potion-makers of literature to guide it's flow. Dickens is one of the authors I can read again and again, knowing there's no danger of boredom... each reading revealing a different facet, a new charm; like reading Austen or the Brontes or, in a different manner, Wodehouse. And this particular paragraph has a significance to me and, I'm sure, to Piggie, too: it reminds us of a fun-filled childhood, a happy past that we can bank on if need be, for strength, for temporary refuge, or just for pure thrill. Watching the TV version of David Copperfield, enacting the 'Donkies!' bit later for the family, receiving the amused applause of Ma and the bemused tolerance of Pa ('Whatever gets into these children of mine sometimes!'), our own childlike enjoyment in our talents... the over-all effect of that little excerpt is to buck me up with no mean hand.

So, cheers, Piglett! We'll figure it all out together, don't worry.

Tales of The City

I've been meaning to write this for a long time, but things keep coming up. So now it's going to sound like a lot of news, all piled up, but well... there is a lot of news.

Fiville has changed. No, not because of the "Fi" part, but the "-ville" part. I don't know if I mentioned this earlier on my blog, but it happened around three weeks ago. So, these days, I frequently find myself starting sentences with "When I go to MD -- oh, I mean NJ -- next, ...."

While this means eternal (for the moment) separation from dear old MD, it also means I'm a stone's throw away from The City. And while I admit I've been partial to MD, I'll also admit that I am willing to give a lot more leeway to this area simply because it's a short half-hour journey to downtown NYC.

We were in The City yesterday, my first time since the move. Walked around a little, went to a used book store, bought The Great Railway Bazaar: By Train Through Asia by Paul Theroux (I can rarely resist a book about trains), lunched on Restaurant Row, went for The Lion King on Times Square, walked up Sixth Ave. through a street fair selling kettle corn and French crepes, leather items, jewellery, clothes and NY goodies, ate our delicious kettle corn while sitting at Columbus Square and feeding the pigeons as well (till Fi unwittingly scared them away), then walked down Eighth to take the bus back home in the evening twilight. It was one of those rare perfect days for this time of the year, at least... not rainy but a little wet from the previous day, not hot but certainly not cold, with the sun peeking in through the clouds once in a while to remind us of his presence.

The Lion King is one of those plays I can recommend to absolutely anyone. The story brings out the child in one, the technical aspects delight the scientist, the use of light and color is psychological perfection, the combination is entertainment in its purest, most intelligent form. Highly recommended.

I wouldn't consider this an over-indulgence, but I guess it was... very shortly after getting back home, I was laid up with a sore throat which seems to have matured into a 'flu-elect today. I'm wishing myself good luck for tomorrow, when I go back to Chicago to lead my other, less forgiving, life.

Actual conversations...

You won't believe this. Today I was in the shuttle coming home when I overheard a conversation between two (possibly) undergrad students in my school. Here's how it went:

Idiot: You know, there's this new ATM opened up.

What I Hope Is A Normal Person: Really... where?

I: It's near the Student Union.

WIHIANP: Where's the Student Union?

I: Near the new ATM.

Really!!!!!

Yes, Minister

This is from the previous post:

"Or at least, I can say for sure that even though there are still uncertainties, we have done our best, and so we have every right to hope that the eventual outcome is as good as we want it to be."

Just look at it. Such a long sentence, so many lines, so many commas and conjunctions and so much redundancy! I'd blame it all on me, but it's much easier to blame it on something else if possible. So, I'll officially throw my choice of language and turn of phrase on Messrs. Jay and Lynn, the wonderful creators of Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister.

This is the third time in the last nine months that I'm reading these books, but, like Wodehouse, they never get stale. On the contrary, each time I read them, something new comes up. Words are used as ammunition, in defence, so smoothly and ingeniously that ... well, their obvious and immediate impact on me is to obfuscate my flow of thoughts and, consequently, form of expression!

A few days ago we were going over a document Fi had written, I was vetting it and decided to change a few things. By the time I was done it looked more like a government statement than anything else. Not realizing that, I sent it back to Fi to be looked over. He got back to me, calling it some unprintable names. My writing is usually good enough not to be called by unprintable names, so I was livid. As if to add insult to obvious injury, he went over each sentence, telling me exactly in what way it deserved which unprintable name. Somewhere in what was turning out to be a rather unruly argument ("frank exchange of views", as per YM/YPM) I happened to mention "going back to my Yes, Prime Minister instead of listening to [his] nonsense".

For a minute there was silence on the line. Then, inexplicably (and very surprizingly), a giggle. And then, "Oh, now I get why your writing was so circular!!" I gratefully accepted the explanation. And very conveniently omitted to tell him that Piggie has, for the last ten years at least, described my writing as being "full of moreover and whereas".

[P.S. only for Fi: No written comments allowed on this post.]

Out of the Woods...

Thanks for the wishes, Fiesties, and thank you for the Big Rainbow, Pigglett. We're out of the woods, so to speak. Or at least, I can say for sure that even though there are still uncertainties, we have done our best, and so we have every right to hope that the eventual outcome is as good as we want it to be.

I know you should actually read this on his blog, but since I cannot direct you there, I'll put up the good news here (in kind)... Fi just gave his GMAT and scored in the 98 percentile range! I'll leave you to guess the actual score, but suffice it to say that, so far, I haven't come across anyone who's scored higher.

Cheers!

A lot hinges on tomorrow. So I won't talk about it now, but if you remember me, send me a mental "Best of Luck".

Eulogy

Well, lots to say, but before I start writing those other posts, this one's just to commemorate a man I mentioned in a previous post. Steve Irwin. I'm one of those who watched in half-fascination, half-horror, as he handled snakes (and other weird things) with grace and ease, referring to them, of all adjectives, as "beauties". This sounds like a platitude, but he really was one of those people who could make the lesser-known part of the world come alive before the rest of us, and make us (well, me) long to do something... heroic ... "devil-may-care"... for our planet. It wasn't just that he was a naturalist, or was so comfortable around dangerous creatures - there are other exceptional humans who are totally comfortable with snakes and sharks and whatever. What distinguished him was his exuberance and his apparent willingness to 'jump into the ring' in order to educate others about wildlife. I know I will miss the Croc Hunter and all my sympathies are with Terri and Babies Irwin right now.

In the same post, by the way, I mentioned sting rays (appositely with double exclamation marks). It is strange that a creature that looks so placid, almost lazy, can galvanize itself to act so quickly. The one that Fi and I saw was pretty close by us, we almost swam over it ourselves, and when I heard about Steve's death, my mind did the double-take to the coral reef that day ...in horror, for the first time. Now, mingled with the fascination and the awe is a teeny little bit of wariness. Should have been there before I jumped off the boat into the reef that day, but nonetheless, better now than never.