Important dates

From September onwards, till the end of the year, my days often pass in a restless gloom punctuated with reasons for celebration.
In India, come September and a series of festivals start. So, in general you are engrossed in a festive atmosphere.

For me, its my birthday that kickstarts the month. This year, towards the end, I finished a year of my first full-time job and was feeling pretty happy with myself, and grateful.

October is a breeze, but just towards the end of the month, I start missing my grandfather. On 26th, he would have been 87.

Bhau was a jolly fellow with love for good food and piping-hot dalwadas. He adored me with a very open bias. Anything was allowed for me, and his swiftest solution to aaji's complaints that I don't study as much I should was to 'take a year off'. Better still, he would say let her fail once. I was humiliated in front of my whole class when I failed in all possible subjects and from then on, I was stunned into being serious. So, it's good to fail, he would say.

And then, he had told me once, "I am going to live till 100. Even after that, I will become a ghost and meet you." That 100 bit always pinches me the most.

November is extremely uneasy. In the first week falls a date I remember in spite wanting to wipe it off from my mind. Towards the end of the month is a date that struck our family real hard.

December offers hope. Promises a new year that would be better, gentler. And in that hope, I have spent a wonderful decade in which God more than made up for everything.

Please vote for me

Please vote for my blog Short and Sweet which has been accepted in the Original Poetry Contest category on Indiblogger. It will take you a few minutes to vote, or create an account if you are yet not on Indiblogger...

Also, may I go a step ahead and say that I would be grateful if you ask your friends on the blogroll to check out Short and Sweet and vote for me...

Here's the voting link..

Wish me luck!

--Gauri

Broken April, Books...

Of kanoon and love: Have I told you Broken April by Ismail Kadare is one of the most beautiful, poetic books I have ever read? I first read Kadare's Palace of Dreams, for the blurb seemed to give away a vague similarity to Orwell's 1984. 'Palace of Dreams' was good enough to pursue Kadare. Luckily, I found him in the British Council. I read 'The Pyramid' and 'Spring Flower Spring Frost' but while these three novels make fast, tense reading, they are not the kinds to haunt you. Broken April unsettles you with alien codes of conduct (Kanoon) in the backdrop of silent love in the misty mountains of Albania.

Just when Gjorg Berisha is walking up the mountains, racing against time to pay the blood tax, and as he makes his way back home, the black ribbon on his arm constantly reminding him — and others — of the death that he may soon deliver or take upon himself, the newly-married couple is wandering off in a pretty horse-drawn carriage somewhere nearby. Their eyes meet briefly and their paths take different destinies. In this brief moment the story takes a desolate turn. The description is so vivid, I could actually see the towers of refuge and the carriage chugging along the lonely road. Read this book to know the fascinating variety of life, culture and codes exist in the world we live in.

PS: I have been trying hard to buy a copy of the book, but am told its not available in India. Other two books I am hunting for since long (on recommendation by some dear blogger friends) are The Dharma Bums and Big Sur by Jack Keroauc. Anyone, any information on what store in India has a stock of these books, please let me know. I would be very grateful.

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Just bought: The cover and blurb of Rooftops of Tehran, Mahbod Seraji's first novel, enticed me enough to buy it. I am down only some 40 pages, but don't like the second person present narrative style. I know I have read it before and liked it, but in this novel, it does not seem to fit. I am off all books for now for a novel that disinterests me halfway leaves me feeling too dejected, shall I say cheated? Saying this, I reserve all my rights to absolutely adore Rooftops of Tehran and change my opinion by the time I reach the last page. :)

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Getting to know new writers: I consider Baruk's blog my window to a unique, different world I would not know of otherwise. The other day, I read up on Maori writer Witi Ihimaera and today I read about Kynpham sing nongkynrih who writes in Khasi and English. Baruk has posted a beautiful poem by Nonkynrih here. Read more about him in the article 'I write in a language that the elite frowns upon' by Trisha Gupta.

Handmade bookmarks

This September was special for me. And to express my gratitude, I was on a bookmark-making spree for almost two weeks. Here's what I made:


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

These are a mix of Peyote, Ladder and Brick stitches. The last round one is a favourite. Still not decided if I should make it a bookmark or use it like a button...

With the high power that I have, after every fabulous brush with the minute needle and seed beads, my right eye begins to ache and I pray to God to let me keep on at this thing at least till I am 50 and more.. :)

Let me know how you liked these.

Related posts:

Learning peyote stitch

My necklaces