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Long time no see.

desire has left my door, and to hope i have long waved goodbye

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Introspection

I don’t feel like blogging under the title of the blog(My Perpetual Pursuit) anymore. I think its too demanding. The whole journey on the life thing is intimidating me. I was, back then when choosing a title for this blog, very high in spirits. As the time went on I think that energy just draft away as much of my other endeavors in life, fuss went all the air.

Would I be betraying with this blog and myself if I just ditch it down here. I would be too cruel, eh?  I stand guilty here.

Blogging is about summarily to write and comment about what one is interested in. I come across my interesting things I would like to share here and comment upon, but its just my handsome trait of procastinating and lack of motivation that fails me every time, now and then.

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English, August resting on my damn old laptop.

Later in the evening, in unsettling flashes, Baba Ramanna’s achievement had seemed inhuman, almost monstrous; as Agastya stared at the fields and orchards, and the two wells, phoenixes that the Baba had helped to rise in triumph out of barrennesss, he felt a little sick – at the immensity of a human ambition, but also at its nobility and virtue, at the limitlessness of the potential of human endeavour, but also the infinite patience and craft required to bring the endeavour to fruition.

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Reading English, August

Yesterday eve, while returning back home I persuaded myself to have a look at the second hand book market that is set up just opposite the road each sunday, but haven’t been to since I moved here.
I was late, it was five and the vendors were wrapping up their spread, stacking the used books neatly into cartons.

Combing aimlessly at the heaps of some relatively new and others badly tattered books, I came across English, August(An Indian Story, Upamanyu Chatterjee); one I was longing to read for sometime. Besides that, I mindlessly bought a book for vocab practice(I will use it, really?). There were many others titles I fancied to read, but exercised restrain, financial excursions. Though I managed not to get a good deal for the couple of books I bought. I suck, at bargaining.

On the copy of English, August the name of previous owner was written in an artistic scribble dated 10/10/95. It gives a good feeling to wonder in which context and manner how the previous owner read the book. And in future if it comes down to someone else how they will look at it.

Expended my day reading the English, August, till now I have got past only 60 pages only, it has 288.

Now I am aching to see the movie based on this novel by same name.

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