I am currently in the reading room of the place we are staying at. I can see outside as the sun sets. I can see a hundred boats if not more.
As the sun sets and darkness comes, the boats are turning their lights on one by one. By now they resemble a hundred gems shimmering on the wavering carpet of the sea.
I feel content reading this wonderful book in here. Savoring every minute of it.
I managed to finish "butter" a while ago. It was a difficult read in many ways. One - it had been quite a while since I had actually read something serious and hard hitting without any hint of humor. Second, the story itself is so wonderfully twisted. Its one of those book where characters are written realistically, not in a clean cut way with clear motives, wants and preferences. Her people are muddy, they get confused, they forget, they lie, hide things and occasionally admit their weaknesses to themselves and others, even when they don't want to.
I loved the book. Also, I was wrong when i said the book was devoid of any humor. The humor lies in the title itself.
So, what reminded me of Butter today is a scene where the protagonist(ish) accepts that she has no control over the perceptions of her friends about her other friends (does this sentence make sense?). And she gives up, she allows herself to be removed from the scene when she wants to. I am sure I felt a pang of jealousy when I read that. Even if I go away, I cannot stop worrying.
A quote I came across a while ago:
Sometimes, if you’re lucky, there will be a tree outside your bedroom window. It is very important to romanticize this tree as much as possible.
Oh dear God, how this quote resonated with me. The Ashoka tree outside my window was one of my closest friends in high school. I felt comfortable sharing my worries about the board exams with it. And I knew it understood because it bloomed right around the exams, like wishing me good luck. I miss that tree.
I am sure the trees outside my window now are undoubtedly also equally handsome and good looking. But I am not able to relate to them as readily as I could back then. The same is also true with people. It used to be so easy to make friends with people you saw everyday. Some of those friendships are even alive today. But now, it is becoming harder and harder to really open up to new people. Maybe I am getting old and set in my ways. Maybe the world is changing and everyone is becoming warier, less inclined to connect to real people. Maybe we are getting our need for human connections fulfilled somewhere else- digitally. So obviously, it is not going so well for humanity.
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The nest has been reused by another bird couple, they are a different species. I couldn't really identify it. But it is some kind of weaver bird. They took out blades of our lemongrass and tore bamboo leaves into thin string like pieces.. used them to weave a cave like dwelling. In the morning you can hear the hatchlings shouting.. :)
