January 31, 2005


For someone who has never had a problem with being verbose when it comes to writing or speaking, lately, I have found it increasingly difficult to narrate or converse using the written word. Even though a part of the blame for this can be placed on my having gone off the editing or writing chores as far as work goes, a significant portion of the blame is to be shouldered by the lack of anything original or interesting to think about. While it is critical that I overcome this inertia of near-complete rest, the signs, aided in no small part by my bad record with luck, of such a thing happening is next to non-existent.

Verbal gymnastics apart, the only significant development since the last update is that I have managed to renew my troubled tryst with the works of Doris Lessing. The last attempt that I had made at consuming Lessing with Briefing for a Descent into Hell had left me scared and unable to make any progress with the book beyond the initial stages. It has been over five years since all that and recently I had the chance to pick another Lessing, The Golden Notebook, for a birthday gift and in fits and starts history has been repeating itself, maybe this time with a different and happier ending.

There is a lot that need to be said about the book, which I would probably write about once I am done with it. From the outset it is very clear with the ultra long preface that the book is one that requires considerable investment in terms of attention, time and patience. Moreover, the unconventional structure of the book makes things even more difficult and I have already had to refer back and forth more than a couple of times to figure out what is going on, where and to whom. The book, though, is not one for the impulsive lefty hater and should only be read if you can give it a fair chance.

Moving on, one of the weird dilemmas that I have been facing has been the clash between how I cannot conceive life to be anything else than what it is now and the burning desire for something radically removed and different from where I am right now. Where I am right now is way too comfortable and comfort is not to be trusted, at least not when you are 26. Somehow, the old urge to push the boundaries further by working harder, travelling further and partying harder is making its way back. Somehow, it is all too comforting and confusing at the same time.