Leap of Faith

Another year ends... a leap year begins and I look back (for once, not in anger but in pleasure). This has been a good year for a lot of people I know; and miserable for a few. But perhaps the wrongs of 2007 will be set right in 2008. Perhaps, too, the ones whose eyes I helped light up this year will light up mine from tomorrow. There is a cold fog creeping in tonight and warmth will be hard to find... which is where Tennyson's Ulysses helps:

The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are---
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

2008 will be a better year and while loved ones may not always be close at hand, distance is only in the mind.

It's the year of the Olympics... so let's see if one can make that leap of faith and not dither at the hurdles ahead.

So here's to a new year, a new blog template and a renewed love of life.

Cheers!

Nostalgia @ Rs 5/kg

It can take over 20 years to squirrel away precious memories in the form of notes, letters, photocopied articles, workshop material, photographs...

And less than three hours to sift through cartons and discard most of them.

The cleaning up of painfully collected archives (physical not digital) is a mind-numbing exercise that leaves the shoulders aching. But nothing is as disconcerting as the fact that you can sell all of what you've discarded for just Rs 5 per kg to the loccal raddi-walla.

I may have been richer by Rs 145 on a cold Sunday morning. But what's gone are old remembrances that there is little room for in this weary world of mine.

Christmas is meant to be a season of giving. I just gave most of my memories away. I should be happy, I guess.