If you thought the post is going to be about the Red and White bravery awards then sorry to disappoint you, it is not. The Red and White here do stand for the colours, but in which forms and in what context is what I am going to discuss here. I should probably go about it chronologically, after all that is the acceptable order almost every time. But I feel different and experimental now so I will start in reverse order.
Red had made its impact on me about a month ago. It came to me at a time when I had given up on ever finding it, no matter if it was on borrowed time. Now, holding it in my hands for real, knowing it won't be returned or held by thousands of other hands gives me a sheer high. To receive something you have longed and searched for, in the form of a gift is a humbling experience. It's a reaffirmation of your faith that if you truly want some things, they surely do come true. Honesty of the wish and the believe in its realisation can do wonders.
Orhan Pamuk had introduced himself to me when he was delivering his speech, emotional and soul-stirring. He struck me deep somewhere inside of me. It irked me. I felt he was intruding my personal space. I had since then avoided looking through him. However it is not to say that he didn't intrigue me. He did. Enormously. That's one reason why I have gone around snooping through his creations. Now to finally own one gives me an immense high! I do realise that it would mean much more and would be truer if I dealt with what had struck and irked me about him and learned a lesson or two from it. Then perhaps I'll be able to write something that's even a fraction as fine and as remarkable as 'My Name Is Red'.
White had a different purpose altogether. It wasn't known to me personally just like Red wasn't but unlike Red I had not been in the quest to find it. It came to me just like that. I was glad I had it's company to keep me light-headed and in an entertaining mode through my first experience of a book launch. Did I say a book launch? Well, better not to go there. First impression was trying to make an impression out of the experience. A restro-bar filled with literati or wannabe literati all with their backs to the entrance. A female and a male voice could be heard in conversation inside the overtly congested room, which welcomed another three souls, vying for a space to stand proper. After the initial feeling of disorientation, things started to make some sense. And the voices found their faces as well. A short-haired, thin woman of average height dressed elegantly in a saree, the author of the book being launched, was in conversation with a bespectacled, french bearded thin man in a blazer (in this summer??), an already published and renowned author. Their conversation was brief, followed by a reading from her book. And then the bar was thrown open. So, White wine it was for me following my friend's choice. It was succeeded by an orange juice and then by a pineapple juice with several servings of snacks in between each sip.
White made the head a little breezy or dizzy, whichever way seemed apt for you. Its help was not needed for words to flow but it did led to better reactions. The three heads had some trouble with their respective heads, which made the conversation all the more interesting. It would be about less than an hour later, when the three would be laughing and talking better sense than what prevailed at that moment. And Red would lay waiting at some corner of a narrow lane, before coming to me.
Red had made its impact on me about a month ago. It came to me at a time when I had given up on ever finding it, no matter if it was on borrowed time. Now, holding it in my hands for real, knowing it won't be returned or held by thousands of other hands gives me a sheer high. To receive something you have longed and searched for, in the form of a gift is a humbling experience. It's a reaffirmation of your faith that if you truly want some things, they surely do come true. Honesty of the wish and the believe in its realisation can do wonders.
Orhan Pamuk had introduced himself to me when he was delivering his speech, emotional and soul-stirring. He struck me deep somewhere inside of me. It irked me. I felt he was intruding my personal space. I had since then avoided looking through him. However it is not to say that he didn't intrigue me. He did. Enormously. That's one reason why I have gone around snooping through his creations. Now to finally own one gives me an immense high! I do realise that it would mean much more and would be truer if I dealt with what had struck and irked me about him and learned a lesson or two from it. Then perhaps I'll be able to write something that's even a fraction as fine and as remarkable as 'My Name Is Red'.
White had a different purpose altogether. It wasn't known to me personally just like Red wasn't but unlike Red I had not been in the quest to find it. It came to me just like that. I was glad I had it's company to keep me light-headed and in an entertaining mode through my first experience of a book launch. Did I say a book launch? Well, better not to go there. First impression was trying to make an impression out of the experience. A restro-bar filled with literati or wannabe literati all with their backs to the entrance. A female and a male voice could be heard in conversation inside the overtly congested room, which welcomed another three souls, vying for a space to stand proper. After the initial feeling of disorientation, things started to make some sense. And the voices found their faces as well. A short-haired, thin woman of average height dressed elegantly in a saree, the author of the book being launched, was in conversation with a bespectacled, french bearded thin man in a blazer (in this summer??), an already published and renowned author. Their conversation was brief, followed by a reading from her book. And then the bar was thrown open. So, White wine it was for me following my friend's choice. It was succeeded by an orange juice and then by a pineapple juice with several servings of snacks in between each sip.
White made the head a little breezy or dizzy, whichever way seemed apt for you. Its help was not needed for words to flow but it did led to better reactions. The three heads had some trouble with their respective heads, which made the conversation all the more interesting. It would be about less than an hour later, when the three would be laughing and talking better sense than what prevailed at that moment. And Red would lay waiting at some corner of a narrow lane, before coming to me.
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