The dust is spat out

OK, I give in. To the  connoisseurs frequenting this blog (Yes, yes, I know flattery will get me nowhere.) who insist that snuffing out a blog is a crime that ill becomes me. 

The dust is spat out, SB! And I return.

So what did  un-blogging help achieve?  Well, among other things, there were soulful  early mornings and late evenings spent gazing into those trees that you see in the image below.  That’s the view from my balcony at home. A view enjoyed over a  companionable morning coffee with the spouse. And a fretful evening one when I generally give myself hell brooding over everything I’ve managed not to get done during the day.  

Image0012

 If you look closely you’ll see a patch of lighter green through the branches of those trees . That’s what I’m usually gazing at. Mournfully. 

Let me explain. 

That patch of green is the number one reason we  moved to this flat a year ago. It’s a park across the road in front, which the balcony, the entire flat in fact, overlooks.  When we moved here  the park was still under construction, but I had wonderful visions of robust and regular morning and evening walks. It’s  a year now  and the three gates of the park are still locked, the park still out of bounds. 

A couple of months before the elections there was hectic activity and it looked like it would be ready before voting day. Well, the Congress won this constituency (although I didn’t vote for them, which fact revealed to me the significance of my vote), but, inexplicably, after the elections all work stopped and hasn’t resumed since. The children of the locality simply jump over the wall and romp on the grass. The curse of adulthood prevents me from  doing likewise.  

Yet another instance of a citizen of this great country denied a  basic right. The right to walk. That park seems positively evil now, a force conspiring to keep me from walking. And health.

Now that I’ve recognized and confronted (but not really done anything about!) this self-fulfilling prophesy, the park has come to symbolize something else, too. The book I’m struggling with.  In my bid to make it one of the world’s great ELT masterpieces, I’m  dragging my feet and can’t let it go. While the publisher waits wrathfully.

There will be a great place to walk pretty soon, so I’ll start walking then. My book will be a masterpiece if I give it more time, so I won’t give it in now.

The mind. And heaven. And hell.

In other news, in all the reading that I’ve been wading through over  the summer, three books that I thoroughly enjoyed were David Crystal’s txting. the gr8 db8,  Watts and Trudgill’s  Alternative Histories of English and Sailaja Pingali’s (a colleague)  Dialects of English: Indian English.  All full of great ideas and insights that I will blog about. Soon. I hope.

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7 Comments »

  1. Space Bar said

    One reader here is happy again!

    🙂

    I know what you mean about parks in this city, though. We have one up the road from where I live where I used to like to go. Every tiem I took my son, though, the lady in the house opposite it used ot say she’d just spotted a snake and we should be careful. We later found out that she was using the (whole) park as her personal garden, planting vegetables, drying clothes, walking her dogs and having her grandchildren play there.

    Voting has nothing to do with any of it!

    Good to see you back.

  2. apu said

    Nice to see you back. Here’s to regular blogging from now!

  3. SB:

    Heh. True. Hyd is full of abandoned parks turned havens for encroachment. But I’m still hopeful: with the GHMC elections round the corner and YSR springing surprise visits . . .
    And thanks much. Hope to see you return to blogging soon as well.

    Apu:
    Many thanks! Hope so too.

  4. Prasanth said

    Although I do not have an automated update system on my blog, I end up here the very day you re-post!
    Very Coelho-ish
    Great to see you back and hate to break the bubble but robust and regular morning and evening walks?
    Isn’t beauty more in the contemplation of the act than in the act itself?
    Prasanth

  5. Prasanth:

    “Isn’t beauty more in the contemplation of the act than in the act itself?”
    Spoken like an academic. Some people in the Dept would be mighty proud of that!

    Muchas gracias, anyways. 🙂

  6. Quirky Indian said

    Glad to see you back.

    And you’d better count your blessings: at least you can see a patch of green from your balcony. In Mumbai, the patches of green stay like that for just a few weeks, and soon the place is milling with excavators, other assorted equipment and scurrying workers. You just can’t fight crony capitalism!

    Cheers,

    Quirky Indian

  7. QI:

    Hola!

    True, and a blessing that is fast disappearing as Hyd is quite the concrete jungle now!

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