a for angst.

irish proverb, apparently. and while anne enright seems to be doing just fine on the luck front, here are two essays and a short story to help you decide when/ where/ whether to read the gathering.

what’s left of henrietta lacks, and my milk, two essays from the london review of books, circa 2000. and caravan, a tightly wound short from this morning’s guardian.

i wouldn’t skip the story. 

1. he’s cute.

2. he’s available.

3. he’s over his nubile-young-thing-from-bollywood-royalty phase. (and, presumably, ready for his gorgeous-if-you-squint-older-woman-with-a-mind one.)

4. he’s in a different city, which is always a great thing for short-term relationships.

5. he’s in the movies, and must have some weakness for a totally unpredictable ending.

6. he’s the first actor i’ve ever done an entire blog post on.

note: at this point, some will reference my deep and abiding love for srk. to those people, let me explain that while i might have leaned out of the car at bandstand and shrieked his name out (in vain) more than once, i have never blogged about him. in fact, the only non-harry-potter actor to have earned a mention before — one measly line — is owen wilson.

7. we could both use the distraction.

see what navratri does to me? i turn into a sucker for saans-bahu propaganda.

i really am so much nicer (also cooler, saner, funnier) when i drink.

from four weddings. and certainly not true of me.

while i am pathologically late – to work, to movies, to flights, to meetings, etc. – there isn’t an ounce of greatness attached.

my friends have learnt to deal with it (where are you? at the signal!). my employers have spared no opportunity to pull me up for it. and my family lives in hope that it will change. 

i, as usual, have a completely different spin on it. i believe i come to things later in life than most. which is why i haven’t done so many things (from a. writing the great indian novel, to z. settling down) yet.

good explanation? well, i certainly think so.

my dad has alzheimer’s. and while this isn’t a particularly well-kept secret from people who know me, it’s something i’ve consistently refrained from writing/ blogging about. to be honest, even now, i’m not sure i’m going to publish this post.

when my dad was first diagnosed as having alzheimer’s-related dementia, i did my usual search for related resources, both online and off. however, i couldn’t bring myself to read alzheimer’s blogs because they were just too heartbreakingly depressing.

it’s over two years since then, and a lot has happened in that time. most notably, my parents have moved out of the city i grew up in, and to a quiet, green, lovely little colony, occupied mostly by retired people. i moved back to live with them last year. and my dad, slowly, but pretty certainly, has gotten worse.

we now have a companion for him during the day — this will need to be extended to fulltime help in a while, as my mom is already running herself ragged.

the two of us have gotten closer than before, and together, we’re running what feels like a ph.d. course in optimisim. her thesis subject would be a million different ways to say but at least he isn’t getting worse. mine, how to make one single, bright, semi-lucid moment last till the next, while ignoring the time that passes in between.

today, i read a couple of caregiver blogs. knowitalz. tangled neuron. never goodbye. had a dad. really tough, especially the last two.  

many people have said that the worst thing about alzheimer’s is the way it robs you of your identity. my dad has always been a cheerful, wisecracking, endlessly patient man who loves the good life. alzheimer’s has leeched away so much of that.

i believe the only way to keep your head screwed on when dealing with an illness that takes away someone’s memories is to hang on to the ones he’s given you.

yann martel on how life of pi was born.

it’s the literary version of alanis’ thank you.

weekend, ahoy! and time for the blog equivalent of muttering to yourself like a bag lady.

1. can’t tell you how great i feel about knitting. i’ve learnt so much new stuff over the past month: stitches, patterns, techniques, shortcuts. it’s the most creative thing i’ve done in years. decades. it’s way cheaper than shopping. and hands down, the most fun i’ve had in a super-long time.

2. found the sweetest anagram generator in the whole wide world, web included. it’s here. and it gave me a store/ label/ website name that i would never have come up with in a million years. elegant averages. i love it.

3. went to lush yesterday and rediscovered why i love it so much. give me enough shampoo, conditioner, hair mask, toner, and soap, and i will take on the world. even smiling occasionally.

4. tj’s lost his phone, a terrible catastrophe that has struck me twice in the recent past. so a big hug for him, even though i don’t seem to qualify for a foot massage. the prejudice against non-resident bombayites (nrbs) continues.

5. won’t be able to make it to the vipassana course this month, so i guess the world will have to put up with an uncalm, uncentred, and generally unruly me for a little (heheheh) while longer. consider this official warning.

ciao for now.

i’m a pathological planner, list-maker, and foreseer of obstacles. didn’t always used to be this way, and, judging by the current sporting season, that’s exactly the way to be.

lesson 1: the english premier league.

arsenal barely finished fourth last year. acquired no silverware at all. and just before this season began, lost thierry henry, their captain, star player, and possibly the finest striker in the world, to fc barcelona.

this season, they haven’t lost a match yet, and are at the top of the table.

lesson two: formula 1.

fernando alonso, world champion for renault, and serial ruiner of schumacher’s retirement year, decides to move to mclaren (okay, okay: vodafone mclaren mercedes). cue drumroll.

racing season begins. and it’s rookie lewis hamilton who pulls off a staggering twelve podium finishes at the end of fifteen races.

with two races to go, it would take a disaster to keep him from being the youngest f1 world champion ever. 

lesson three: the twenty20 world cup.

unfancied india, led by rookie captain ms dhoni, play a form of the game they have little experience at. all of india is quite thrilled that they make it to the second round of competition, and we are all mentally prepared to watch australia (or, worst case, sri lanka) go home with the trophy. 

then the indian team chases pakistan down to a bowl out — and wins. beats england in a match that will always belong to a certain yuvraj singh. helps south africa lose their first match of the tournament. and, get this: sends the australians packing.

unfancied india it is that takes home the first-ever twenty20 world cup. beating our favourite opponents in a nail-biter of a final.

three lessons to remind you that there’s no such thing as a script, so stop looking for one. 

always been into craft, but am extraordinarily talentless when it comes to needlecraft. until last month.

discovered a pair of knitting needles way down at the bottom of my craft box (don’t ask). realised that i didn’t know to purl, and hastily corrected that fact. and, ever since, have happily been knitting myself to calmness.

it’s easily the most de-stressing part of my life, and is way easier on my liver than the alternative. moreover, it’s replaced books as my distraction of choice. (anyone who knows me would reel mildly at the fact that i’ve been reading the lovely nikita lalwani debut, gifted, for the better part of a month.)

on the flip side, i am the proud owner of several itty-bitty pieces of gorgeous, original knitting. now if only i could lose a few kilos, i’d really be in business.

how many calories does knitting burn, you think?