Slow

The National Book Trust (NBT) and its bookshop is a mixed bag. By virtue of its selection of titles and authors, it offers a refreshing alternative to the production line setups of commercial bookstore chains like Crossword. Because of the very same reasons, the gulf between the title's promise and the delivered text can be vast due to the author being a sarkari selection. The book "India Post: A Journey through Ages" I picked from the NBT's store in Dehradun is one such, purposefully written it would seem, to aggravate anyone with expectations of structure and story-telling. That it is (claimed to be) written to celebrate one of the most important applications of the written word makes the circumstances twice as tragic. Owning the book makes me happy for its existence but sad for its execution.

World Post Day, 10-0ct-2024, ToI

A Times of India supplement on World Post Day (10th October) looked at another aspect of the handwritten letter, its romanticization on celluloid as a medium of connection for lovers, soldiers, breadwinners and those displaced from home by their own success. The personalization that a handwritten letter brings and its physical journey from sender to recipient contributes to its value. The permanency of its words present a sharp contrast to the ever changing world that it navigates through. Even in the few days it had taken to reach its destination, things have been altered irrevocably but like every sensible person or thought it refuses to move at anything above its own chosen pace.

[https://virtual-inksanity.blogspot.com/2024/11/slow.html]

Morning Meditations

IMG: Dall-E 3

A sequence of tough days at work led to the eventual sleep-in. My daily almost dawn walk with the dogs was pushed down the sundial to more of a morning walk timeslot to allow me to dwell for a little bit more on the comfort of refusing to start a new day. The electronic drug-dealer in my palm served up UEFA Champions League highlights from last night. I partook of Bayern Munich steamrolling Dinamo Zagreb and Manchester City stuttering against Inter Milan mainly because swiping on to the next video felt like too much effort. The irony inherent in cheering for pinnacles of fitness and energy while representing the opposite end of the spectrum was not lost on me. It was still well within the definition of an everyman's early morning when the dogs' earnest confusion finally guilted me into abandoning my contract with sloth. The route was regular, the sniffs and woofs along the way routine but the advantage to a time-table, however externally enforced, is that it ensures that even the most shapeless of mornings eventually meanders towards a generally right direction.

[https://virtual-inksanity.blogspot.com/2024/09/morning-meditations.html]