Tanhaiyaan

Youngsters won't remember but a few years ago, when blogging was the thing to do, we played many jolly games, one of which was to tag each other. My cousin Gayathri had a lovely 'master-list of lists' tag for me that I thoroughly enjoyed doing - though I can't remember if I finished it. The first item was "Nine songs I would pick if those were the only pieces I could listen to for the rest of my life".

In my response, at #9, I picked two ghazals: तुम नहीं, ग़म नहीं (Tum nahin, gham nahin), and कौन आएगा यहाँ (Kaun aayega yahaan). This was seven years ago (!) and the list would read differently now but I am intrigued to see that I am still very fond of these songs by Jagjit Singh.

I've always loved his voice - it's gorgeous - but have been less happy with his lack of versatility, even vivacity. Like many singers, Jagjit Singh wasn't a great composer and I thought he'd have better albums if he outsourced that particular skill instead of doing it himself. I don't remember now who set these two songs to music but the arrangements are lovely.

Tum nahin from youtube, where some enthusiastic, kindly soul has strung a series of images to assist the imagination.

वो करम उँगलियों पे गिनते हैं
ज़ुल्म का जिनके कुछ हिसाब नहीं

woh karam ungliyon pe ginte hain
zulm ka jinke kuch hisaab nahin



And Kaun aayega yahaan, from my own repository.

गुल से लिपटी हुई तितली को गिराकर देखो
आँधियों तुमने दरखतों को गिराया होगा


gul se lipti hui titli ko giraakar dekho
aandhiyon tumne darakhton ko giraya hoga

Play the song

Enjoy!

Vadatu samskritam

Australopithecus was tagged a funny tag. The task was "to get the 6th picture from your 6th folder and to tell its story". Hah, I thought, my pictures are all in one sub-sub-sub-folder, so what is one to do if the sixth folder I open doesn't have pictures? Vela moment, I try it. And there is a jpeg image:


Some 6-7 years ago, I attended a course in Spoken Sanskrit. It was wonderful—very empowering. Unfortunately, the teacher dawdled over the easy initial part, then found himself short of time, so rushed through the more complicated syllabus at breakneck speed. It left a very incomplete feeling and I've always intended to refresh what I'd learnt, pore over the books and teach myself a bit more thoroughly. This sixth folder was full of scanned pages from a textbook I'd found online.

Yaad ke benishan jazeeron se

Australopithecus tags me, so we regress…

My oldest memory
Riding on Moti’s back, Moti being the neighbour’s enormous dog. Also eating Moti’s lunch, out of his bowl. Yechch!!! Mother says I was about two-and-a-half. Life before that is a blank. What’s the use, I ask you.

10 years ago
In Chennai. I was getting used to a new job, in a new city. Plus ça change…

My first thought this morning
Shit, I need to write the Switzerland piece!

If you built a time capsule today, what would it contain?
A laptop (of course), some token amounts of RDX, a bottle of packaged drinking water, Tiger DNA, a photograph of the Taj Mahal (just in case, paapam, they don’t have it), a DVD of a Bollywood potboiler (which one, though? Sholay, Hum Aapke Hain Kaun? Drona?)… many more things.

When I don’t have discipline with an ordinary weekend bag, you think I’d have it when it comes to packing a time capsule? This is going to be my favourite past time for the next week, putting together this trunk.

This year
Has been good to me.

14 years from now
I will be… shudder… 14 years older. It doesn’t bear thinking about, so I shan’t. No idea what I’ll be doing.

I tag
Ze Gaga
The Kid
The Kiddo

Tag tag

It has tagged us and we are bound to deliver.
As it happens it is not a tag that requires very much original work but instead seeks ze introspection, much surfing of one’s own pages and regurgitation. So it is done and we present results of this exercise.

The Ask
Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given (family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like). Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better.

The Answer
Family
There was much to choose from. We are tending to go on at length, so why not give you posts per family member?

Sibling. Here where we talk of what it means to us, and more amusingly, here, discovering what it means sometimes. Another post on our enmeshed lives.
Mother. Stray references only I am finding here, no post, alack. Shocking. How this has happened? Light of my life, is mater.
Father, again, I have spoken of not very much at all. However, there is this, In Which He Is As Provoking As Usual.

Friends
I find one post which talks of friends from several circles, and reflects happy times of many kinds and includes coffee.

Myself
Now this is really difficult, because there is three years’ worth to choose from. However recently I talked of me, of words representing me, and wondered if in fact they do?
And this something which is not poetry but captures a nihilistic state of mind that occurs quite a bit with me.

Love
Of that, there is nothing here; we have been most discreet. There is an Anand Bakshi song I blogged about though, if you will settle for it.

Something I like
I once wrote a post on religion and politeness that I’d like you to read again.

I hereby tag The Marauder in hopes that it prompts a post on her still-hibernating blog and Mahesh Nilakantan, the Icarus man who hasn’t piled on those frequent flier points of late.

The Four and other foods

Several several months ago, I was tagged. It was one of those ones – apparently trivial but put together you see that it quite bares your essence. Bit frighteny, but what the heck: 'sees chadaye potli le jaat na dekhya koye'.

These were Gayathri’s demands:
Nine songs I would pick if those were the only pieces I could listen to for the rest of my life
Eight frivolous things that bring me joy
Seven people (dead or alive, real or fictional people that I won’t actually ever meet!) that I would pick to have a 5 minute conversation with
Six best coffee/chai memories
Five best memories of my sister
Four things I could eat anytime, anyplace
Three places I've been to that I want to go back to

As it happens, I’ve done five of the seven: The nine songs, the eight frivolous things, seven people I’d like to meet, six chai/coffee memories, five memories of my sister (in which I didn’t follow the rules). I’ve hovered on the brink of the sixth for months but haven’t done anything about it because with one thing and the other I haven’t been very hungry and I haven’t felt like blogging.

And there is another food tag pending from Nishu: 10 favourite foods. Shall I club the two together then? List four things I could eat anytime, anywhere and then continue with six other favourites?
That sounds ok, because for one, I’m not a foodie, able to write about sapaad in jollu-ootifying terms. Nishu has gone on about her fave foods in this most gastronome fashion: “Croissants and Chausson aux Pommes… Flaky, flaky croissants, with buttery insides eaten with jam… and of course warm chaussons aux pommes - lovely flaky puff types with apple puree/sauce inside.” Now I cannot do this, being simble person with simble tastes. Boring, I’m warning you. Second, of course, I’m vegetarian and that cuts short any possible food list by half.

Here goes. Four things I could eat anywhere, anytime:
· Pasta. Any shape, any sauce, anytime.
· Hot steaming rice, lots of mudda pappu with molten ghee and avakkai. Mosranna to round off. Need nothing else.
· A couple of years ago, I’d have said popcorn. I louued the stuff and wouldn’t share in movie halls. Sadly I’m over it and even offer it voluntarily these days to neighbours. But I still like corn and my current favorite is buttered amercian sweet corn. Yeah.
· Another all time favourite that seems to be fading from the top lists but is here because it hasn’t been replaced with anything else – vegetable manchuria. Sec’bad Club makes a spicy (and I suspect, very desi) version and Sudha is good enough to sign for a plate for me every time.

Six other faves… a very now list:
· I like tamarindy things – my mum’s pulihora, her gojjus (onion gojju, bhindi, even with pineapple and oranges).
· Rice, mor kozhambhu with parupu usuli and sabudaana karudaam
· New addition to lists – karveppillai pickle from Grand Sweets and Snacks. We are running out, alas.
· Another new obsession: Belgian dark chocolate ice cream from Scoops. They were inspired from the movie Salaam Namaste, apparently. Preity Zinta’s character has cravings and they set out in the middle of the night looking specifically for the flavour and so Scoops thought, ‘aha, aisa kya, why not have it on our menu?’ Good for them, coz it’s yummm. Thanks, A’jun ;-).
· Anaar juice – if they have it, I never have anything else. My answer to Nishu’s apple pie and Alina’s nimbu soda.
· Biryani and mirchi ka salan. What to do, Hyderabadi no?

That is that.

I’d said when I started on the nines, that I wouldn’t tag anyone perforce, but I’m very tempted to ask The One to do it – the whole seven shebang. He made out a list recently and he does it soooooooo well.

Update

Hurrah for the power of the written word! I put down seven things I wanted to do, and here are quite a few done already!

Have I tidied up? Let me here proudly announce that all our CDs have been checked for contents, duly labelled and most importantly have been allotted CD covers, and put away for easy retreival. Yessssssssssss!

The printer has come. W/o scanner but we decided to go for a plain vanilla workhorse.

It is not quite the thing for freelancers to actually ask for a cessation of work. The gods, as we know, have a sense of humour and they might quite misunderstand the exact nature of the request, and then where would we be? Still, so frazzled was I with juggling deadlines that I made bold as to actually ask that of the universe. It has been granted me - a whole week of nothing to do. I have lingered on the lounge, with shawl draped around my feet and stirred as little as possible.

Er.. no.. I haven't actually made that list of books-to-read. Have decided to give up on that one - the books know when to find me.

Definitely found time for hair and skin care. No haglikeness. Tra la laaa.

Bought several clothes. More tra la la.

Two pairs of shoes. Ditto.

Now, if it was going to be this easy, why the hell didn't I reach higher?

For Deepa

First, Happy Birthday - wishes are late but these ones last a year.
Second, but of course, babeh! I hereby tag Deepa to do the seven tag. What to do - you're so dignified, no one thinks you'd even consider doing all this seven-cheven chillarpana. Only, in your hands, it will not be chillar.

The seven tag

Been tagged by the Marauder to tell you random things about me in lists of seven.

Seven things I plan to do

Plans. I have pagefulls of them – vague, hopeful things. However, short term intentions also are being.

1. Tidy up, tidy up, tidy up.

2. Reclaim life – Get ALL deadlines out of the way, find a nice patch of sunlight, curl up and read.

3. Follow hair and skin care regimen and avert hag-likeness.

4. Get few decent posts up here. Sometime soon.

5. Get printer/scanner all-in-one thingy, absence of which has paralysed life for months.

6. Check out Bose showroom and be forever spoilt for lesser things.

7. Read all books that have been on shelf for months, even if have to make silly lists and determinedly go through, mood and inclination be damned.

Seven things I can't do

1. Have nice clothes tailored for me. Tailors totally intimidate me – honest, I can’t think of a single thing to say to them. So with the mother threatening to abandon me on grounds that I am now grown enough to organise my own clothes, I’m left with readymades.
Now, I’m short ok? Well, I like petite better, but in all fairness people just shy of 5 ft are short – plain truth. Nothing off the rack will fit without that dreaded thing – alterations. And I need a new wardrobe, like yesterday :-(.

What else can’t I do? Imagine admitting these things in public. I’ll do one of those MBA tricks where all negatives are pluses: I can’t pass by a stray puppy without stopping to pat it, you know, it’s such a weakness, I just can’t help it!

2. Seriously, I can’t draw. I admire illustrators and artists tremendously and there is a touch of wistful longing there. However I have made valiant attempts to learn pencil shading with Vikas’ Learn Pencil Shading: Landscapes and Objects – II. When I acquire scanner I shall put up my work for all to admire. I say it myself, it’s just copycat work, but they’re not too bad.
Talking of artwork, here is a blog I like.

3. Cannot get a grip on Messrs HTML, CSS and associates. Gah!

4. Cannot figure out golf. This, in spite of Wodehouse and the Oldest Member.

5. Cannot appreciate rock music. Brain wired that way, too late.

6. Cannot read Dickens and friends any more. Wrong century. Have become impatient reader.

7. Cannot sing as well as I’d like to. Wish I’d been trained.

Seven things I say quite often

1. Dammit!

2. Ayyo…yo. (Note: not 'aiyyaiyo'. Very versatile, typically Kannadiga phrase. Apparently I say it all the time to express quite a range of feelings -- shock, horror, mirth, amusement, disdain, contempt and so on.)

3. Bashkul! No!… Apdi pannakudaadu… that’s a no-no.

4. You have a piece that needs editing? … You want it when?!… That doesn’t give me much time… Oh, I see… How big is the document? … Well, ok, send it to me.
(Get off phone, bang head against wall. Why can I not say NO?)

5. I use ‘lovely’ quite a bit. Like Shakti Kapoor: ‘Lovely, no?’

That’s all – Shweta says I don’t talk enough to have seven things under this head.

Must I tag someone?
The Hussains, I think. Nishat and Sabiha.

The sibling

Lists again. Next on Gayathri's master list: Five best memories of my sister. Gay copped out on this one and I think I will too. I simply can't distil memories of my sister into five disparate bits.

I could tell you a few things about her: that she best loves to laugh rolling on the floor, clutching her stomach - a fit that often goes on almost five minutes longer after everyone else has stopped laughing; that she hasn't met a child she hasn't driven into hyperactive hysteria with her rowdy games; that she's one of the most intelligent persons I know and the most capable of great things; that she's spiritual, deeply loving and coldly detached… I could tell you many things.

The short story: We're friends, Shweta and I. Soul sisters, even. She's an older soul, I suspect. Just as well I have a few years on her - these Leos need sitting on, or they get out of hand. We talk incessantly and very often don't need to, because our thoughts are so alike. It's a recurring joke that we should just sit across from each other and nod vigorously in agreement without saying a word.

Some things need saying nevertheless. Happy Birthday, Tot.

The perfect democrat

Back. Calm deep breaths for the first time in weeks. Temporary files deleted, mind space freed up. Time enough to drop into the pensieve and come up with my next list, which is overdue.

My six best chai/coffee memories

Over second and third cups flow matters of high finance, high state, common gossip and low comedy. Coffee is a social binder, a warmer of tongues, a soberer of minds, a stimulant of wit, a foiler of sleep if you want it so. From roadside mugs to the classic demitasse, it is the perfect democrat.
~Anon.

I’m South Indian and coffee is life’s breath to me, or close. Plus the mother makes award winning coffee almost every time. So the six best aren’t necessarily about good coffee or tea, but the memories were great.


1. Lemon tea on BN’s sets
I was working on a telefilm and a historical series at the time. First, food and drink on sets are terrific – the teas and coffees keep coming, and the meals are really special. As the director’s assistants, Sharu and I were treated like royalty. Our comfort, it seemed, was top priority, particularly for the F&B unit. We got pampered silly and it was the mostest fun.
Shooting is stressful business. When you factor in double shifts, coming home at 3.00 in the morning and being up again at 7.00 am, it’s worse. And when you’re in charge of costume continuity in a historical with over a dozen important characters, and a boss who’s rather unforgiving of goof-ups, it can give you serious ulcers.
I survived thanks to those glorious lemon teas. The F&B man-in-charge experimented one day and it caught on wildly. We Three – B, Sharu and I – would get our generous portions in big glasses; a deep orange colour, warm ambrosia that you could nurse for half an hour, and have anxiety just seep away. He’d get the balance right every time – sweetness and tartness. Nice.

2. Parvati Valley, Himachal Pradesh
On a trek, this one. From Manikaran to Malana. Quite shocked at how much sharper the gradient was in the Himalayan foothills after piddly hills in the south. Not even halfway into the climb, and we were winded. A charming little tea shop with rough hewn benches. We propped against the packs and called for a cuppa. It wasn’t terrific, but how we needed it!

3. Johnson’s tea kadai, Golden Threshold
University. Rounds of ghazals, rounds of samosas, rounds of smokes. Prof CVS keeping rhythm on his match box. Circles forming, reforming. Endless days, bottomless kettles.

4. Tibetan brothers’, Kodaikanal
We went August last year, Nish, Sudha and I. Stayed in a cottage, stared at hypnotic fires for about half the time we were there. Even more memorably, the whole trip was one glutfest… I remember every meal. Nish made us her famous pancakes (famous because that’s item one of two on her ‘can cook’ list).
One drizzly afternoon, post lunch butter tea at the Tibetan brothers'. It actually works, butter in tea. Yumm.

5. Masala chai in Delhi
I’d had a terrible cough. We were at my godmother’s in Delhi. Mum was worried and Vidu had a chai ‘kashaya’ recipe, so they made it together – herbs, pepper and a dozen other spices with tea. I had it with milk and felt loved, loved, loved.

6. TOI
My two years with Hyderabad Times were almost entirely fun. We were a great team. How we bonded and how much we laughed. The coffee dispenser one floor down wasn’t imaginative but it seldom ran out. Any two of us would go down the stairs, bring back a tray full of beverages, and we’d sit on desks and talk. What a good paper it would’ve been if they’d let us have our way.

Jugnu, Diye, Sitaare

Mai tumse baat karke roshan hua hun kitna
Saare sukhan tumhare, jugnu, diye, sitaare

Seven people (dead or alive, real or fictional) that I would pick to have a 5 minute conversation with

Socrates
Sahir Ludhianvi
Sherlock Holmes
Nicholai Hel from Shibumi
Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and Vivekananda (I’m imagining this meeting with the two of them together. Can you imagine my tongue-tiedness? I think I’ll just sit with an idiotic smile and soak it in)
Amir Khusrau and Kabir
Aurangzeb

Hee heee, that’s nine… But… BUT…
No women! dismay! I only want to meet men? No representation at all unless I rack my brains and fit them in, and that would really be tokenism.
The reason, I think, lies partly with our skewed documentation. Women, if recorded at all, are done so for masculine, or male-centred attributes – strength or beauty. Women of extraordinary strength or power – but not interesting, you see? Not necessarily people I want to meet.

How many cool women do we know of – chilled out, humorous, sexy, funny, wise? Not necessarily strident, not necessarily serious, not necessarily academic or ‘important’. Women with individuality, women with opinions, a unique way of looking at the world? There must have been – why didn’t they make it to the pages? I want to meet those women.

Samaan-e-shauq hai ye baham

Frivolous... huh? “Not serious in content or attitude or behaviour; of little weight or importance.” So that excludes books, music, movies, hobbies, work, right? Good.
In random order, then:

Eight frivolous things that bring me joy
1. Lip balms. Right now on my dressing table: plain petroleum jelly, a luxurious banana, a tingly mint, a smooth pineapple, a so-so strawberry and a crappy sparkle gel from Streetwear.

2. Bath Accessories – soaps, bath salts, bath oils.
When Shweta brought back Lush soaps from London, we started to have a soap platter – we’ve run out of those ones but still manage to have a variety to choose from: lemon, neem, lavender, green apple, sandal…. Deliberating over which soap every day… yes, that gives me joy.
Bath oils and salts – I made a fresh bottle of rose baths salts recently – pale pink, with essence of Rosa damascena… heavenly!

3. Pedicures.

4. Stationery – paper, pens, pins.

5. Corn on the cob. Mokka bhutta. Choosing tender/medium ones from a pile, watching the vendor strip it efficiently and roast it over coal, fanning the bed to a bright red. Generous slathering of nimboo dipped in salt and kala namak. Paying man measly Rs 5 per ear, wrapping in leaves, and nip, nipping away.

6. Churans and suparis. You will have guessed by now – I can’t have one of anything, it has got to be a collection. Churans on kitchen shelf at present time – jeera goli, anaar daana, amla churan and aloo bhukhara. Suparis: pineapple, khajur, khas khas, gulkhand, couple of other assortments that don’t have names.

7. Having my cell phone conversations end at the dying seconds of a minute, extracting maximum yak for my buck. Conversely, nothing annoys me more than a call duration that reads something : 02.

8. Finding a chatty Hyderabadi autowalla when I'm by myself and feeling like some conversation.

Lists: The nine

Gayathri is fond of lists. She’s also fond of many many other things, so she decided to mesh her loves and come up with a few of her favourite things. Here’s her master-list of lists:

1. Nine songs I would pick if those were the only pieces I could listen to for the rest of my life
2. Eight frivolous things that bring me joy
3. Seven people (dead or alive, real or fictional people that I won’t actually ever meet!) that I would pick to have a 5 minute conversation with
4. Six best coffee/chai memories
5. Five best memories of my sister
6. Four things I could eat anytime, anyplace
7. Three places I've been to that I want to go back to

Naturally, I begged to be tagged and she did. So here’s my first list.

Nine songs I would pick if those were the only pieces I could listen to for the rest of my life
Not even allowed albums, I’m to pick individual pieces… sigh! Remember I asked for this. Countdown:

9. I’ve surprised myself by deciding on Jagjit Singh: a tie between Tum nahin, gham nahin, sharaab nahin and Kaun aayega yahaan. Solitude and Loneliness. What the heck, both. I’ll decide, like Gay says in her list, when they hold a gun to my head.

8. Ranjish hi sahi by Mehdi Hassan – this was The Hook, the first ghazal I ever heard by the master.

7. MS Subbulakshmi singing Hanuman Chalisa. In ragamala. I’ve heard people say that hearing MSS’s unmistakable South Indian accents sing the Chalisa puts them off, but this is where I learnt it from. I’ve heard other versions but you can’t beat MSS for bhaktibhava.

6. Aaj rang hai - nice looooong version by… Nusrat again or perhaps the Sabri brothers.

5. Nusrat’s Nit khair mangan. Gorgeous, simply gorgeous.

4. Rafi’s Koi sagar dil ko behlaata nahin. Had to include Kalavati and had to have Rafi. No contest.

3. Rashid Khan singing Bageshri. My all-time favourite raga to fall asleep to.

2. Ashwini Bhide-Deshpande singing Bhimpalasi. Golden afternoons are made of these.

1. Rashid Khan singing Sohni – one elaborate, elaborate piece. Or Megh. Both. No words.

Am I tagging anyone? Nah… zabardasti is no fun. But if anyone wants to, ask and ye shall be tagged.

Dredging Meme-ories

Booktagged by The Scab That Swung and Samanth Subramanian. And I confess it felt like a cold clap on the shoulder.

Reading the book meme everywhere on the blogosphere has been so, so fascinating and I’ve been left with a persistent feeling that it is time my reading interests were widened. Evidently, sitaaron se aage jahaan aur bhi hai.

How many books do I own?
Just the ones I bought/own? Or books in the house? Do candyfloss romances count? Er… dunno. About 600, maybe 750.

Last book bought
Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin, Dick Francis’ Knock Down, Devices and Desires by PD James and an armload of M&Bs.

Last books read
Michael Critchon’s State of Fear, and all of these in Bhopal: Thrones, Dominations by Dorothy Sayers and Jill Paton Walsh, The Moving Finger by Agatha Christie, Ipsita Roy Chakraverti’s autobiography Beloved Witch, one book on Kundalini, bits from a glossary called Q is for Quantum, Dick Francis’ 10-lb Penalty.

Am in the middle of: The Blind Assassin, Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park, Aldous Huxley’s The Perennial Philosophy.

Books that mean a lot to me
Amar Chitra Katha. They were all engrossing. I loved the cover versos that gave the sources and a little history behind each story, and so much of what I sought later – Kalidasa, folklore, the Hitopadesha, the Mahabharata – was triggered there.
Favourites: The Magic Grove, Balanagamma and Gopal and the Cowherd.

Enid Blyton. All, all of ‘em. I’ve outgrown the Famous Five, but am still addicted to the Five Find-Outers and Dog.
Faves: Malory Towers, The Enchanted Wood series, the Circus Series (I should’ve been Jimmy, of course, having tigers purring to me and eat from my hands).
Absolute favourite: The Children of the Cherry Tree Farm.

The Complete Sherlock Holmes. A lovely hardbound book, in elegant font. A gift from my parents for accomplishing something or the other. Holmes… he blew my mind. I pretended to be his ‘soul’ child for a long time – he moulded my rationality, my ‘cold-bloodedness’. I loved him so much, my 10th standard teacher once refused to go on to the next chapter of The Hound of Baskervilles because I was absent.

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Another gift – from my Bapa, my grandfather. Have by no means read everything, but I can never survey my books without dipping into this one.
Told you I was reading Mansfield Park? Here are words Austen puts into the mouth of Henry Crawford: “Shakespeare one gets acquainted with without knowing how… His thoughts and beauties are so spread abroad that one touches them everywhere; one is intimate with him by instinct. No man of any brain can open at a good part of one of his plays without falling into the flow on his meaning immediately.” My sentiments.

Am I allowed dictionaries? Aaina-e-ghazal by Vinay Waikar and Zarina Sani – a dictionary especially for the ghazal, with ‘poetic’ meaning of ordinary words. Before this, I would listen to shers, put down words I didn’t know or couldn’t make out even in context, and take these scraps to my classmate and friend, Romaisa. She would take them home to her mother and bring them back the next day with meanings scrawled next to them. When my father ordered for Aaina-e-Ghazal, it enriched my life beyond measure. There is a later edition and I mean to get it, but this well-worn book is special.

Many many others: From the King of All-the-Time-in-the-World, LOTR (which is due for another reread), Gerald Durrell’s My Family and Other Animals and that excellent argument for conservation in Catch me a Colobus which turned my steps there (haven’t done anything yet, but I’m a cauldron in progress), all the Georgette Heyers, Trevanian’s Shibumi, Gary Zukov’s The Dancing Wu Li Masters (which along with a few other circumstances put everything, everything into place), Wodehouse’s Leave it to Psmith, A Damsel in Distress and the Mulliner stories, Vikram Seth’s The Golden Gate… and oh, my Harry Potters.

Persons I’d like to tag? Shweta, Gayathri, Navin and Nishu (when she chooses to come out…).

My friends Alina and Sudha don’t even read my blog – I have a feeling the poor things will live and die without discovering blogs – but I’ll do my bit and tag them. Sheer vanity might get them going if the inducement of reading me can’t.

Finally, she’ll kill me for this and die a bit each day till she gets it done… PRIYA. heh heh.

Felt like mucking about in waist-deep memories, TeeGee, Samanth, but fun anyway. Thanks.