Ghanerao Jungle Lodge
A cup of coffee, a dead bark of tree draped in a string of light, pen, personal diaries and books.
Watching the stars, listening to Rumi’s poetry in the dark, lamp lit night, we wondered about the fallacies of life, a never-ending peace until the end of silence.
But the question is, my friend, who shall dare break it? And then a dog cried.
Love in the Time of Cholera
Flowers, water in puddles, lakes and the sea, and cholera in it.
Old times, ship, yellow flag, sign of infection on board. White flag sign of infection free property.
Begins with a cute love story. He is raised like an orphan, habit of going to a garden, sitting under an almond tree and reading. There, one day, he sees her for the first time.
“…It was in this innocent way that Florentino Ariza began his secret life as a solitary hunter. From seven o’clock in the morning, he sat on the most hidden bench in the little park, pretending to read a book of verse in the shade of the almond trees, until he saw the impossible maiden walk by in her blue-striped uniform, stockings that reached to her knees, masculine laced oxfords, and a single thick braid with a bow at the end, which hung down her back to her waist.
She walked with natural haughtiness, her head high, her eyes unmoving, her step rapid, her nose pointing straight ahead, her bag of books held against her chest with crossed arms, her doe’s gait making her seem immune to gravity.
At her side, struggling to keep up with her, the aunt with the brown habit (Nirali explained as no interest with the opposite sex, nun like) and rope of St. Francis did not allow him the slightest opportunity to approach…”
How he writes her a letter using the books he had read under the almond tree, how he waits and seeks for one small keyhole moment to appear and grab it like only a lover-writer can, enter her space and put the paper in her hands.
Nirali: I don’t remember the duration of that lifetime, for which I have been waiting, to live this book with someone in this life, read it, have someone listen to me while I speak these words out loud in the universe, and rejoice in that freedom, finally…
That burned copy of The Catcher in the Rye is looking at me, sitting silently, curiously listening to all of us, from his seat on the table.
Just one more thing: “…Delirious with joy, Florentino Ariza spent the rest of the afternoon eating roses and reading the note letter by letter, over and…” they exchange roses and letters.
Nirali: Sad is that the girl accepts the letters but never the flowers.
She looks at me. I keep looking at her. She is asking for some sign with her eyes. What is it that she wants and I wondered, readily, we shall give, to keep listening, being washed over with those words from that cholera infested book.
‘Shall I continue to read?’
‘Oh, yes!’
…
Shantaram
Shaurya has got a printed background.
“It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured…”
– this is how the book begins.
“I clenched my teeth against the stars. I closed my eyes. I surrendered to sleep. One of the reasons why we crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow…”
– these are the words we all heard as he read.
“One of the reasons we crave love so much”
The Room on the Roof
I wish someone had written when I read, first, the little of the book and Rusty and me with him on bicycle, Ruchi took my video. Someone should take your’s, you take everyone’s video every time. (Thank you)
50 rules of guy… 40 rules of love -> don’t mix, take your words back
I have my first reading’s memory to unwind and watch, when I am on the brink of a breakdown to remember, to look at, as a talisman, ‘the why’ of life.
I have a purpose. I don’t know what else I have. But I have this moment where I read Rusty and Meena’s wish to run away and live in the jungle after their first kiss, Rumi’s letter to Rusty to not run away and the purpose of his life and their first bike ride together, all 4 on 1 bicycle, the crowbar, the back seat, the front rod, riding down the hill, becoming friends in that instant,
An anglo Indian boy 16 years old and the Indians living in the bazaar.
Siddhartha
“to thoughts of suicide…”
Even I thought , this book was about Gautam Buddha. Its not. I fell prey/ succumbed to rumours. Or as they say, don’t judge a book by its cover, or make an assumption, pick it up and give it a read.
“… insatiable desire… “
Role as a boatman
The Snows of Killimanjaro
(rescuing Harry):
“… instead of going on to Harusha
Pink shifting clouds…
First snow… locus…”
2-page story, brutal
– Ernest Hemingway
Dinner
Stars
Shooting stars
Poster
Resume reading
And more/now??
Raxil is a fun dramatic character
“lady… any/ every man… accent twisted/lopsided…”
All night! that’s enough! – Tinder in a Box
Sandeep ji Thus spoke Zarathustra
Theatre- imitation of an imitation -> superficial imitation -> no organic growth(Ahmedabad) [personal to me, him and C.(Chirag Sir, I guess)
Aur ab, Raat ke teesre peher ke paun, fir MK ki ek choti si story aur… jisne prem kia hai, The Witcher
Catherine: London waiter connect (bad dress) – Give me what you have but you don’t know you have –> surprise child –> law of surprise
Conversation :-
Dono milte hain, silence me bethe hain.
“… this brewing dramatic silence is too… for me are you considering accepting your proposal?
Yen…
Destiny
Jugnu
Falling shooting stars, waiting
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