If someone were to ask you, about a moment that you could create that could be absolutely perfect, what would it be? Have you ever thought about that? Somewhere you could be, far far away from the traffic, noise, madness, anger, frustration, maybe in the arms of your loved one, or surrounded by children, or all by yourself exploring some unknown land, eating exquisite food, drinking merrily as if there’s no tomorrow, and lost in peace!
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I often create such moments in my head. I wouldn’t say, I have just one moment of absolute peace, there are many, created in accordance with the situation at hand, some of them include memories of the past, most of it consists of dreams of what I would want my future to be, but there is one moment of absolute bliss that I never seem tired of imagining no matter how many ever times I imagine that, it just gets better. And I get more creative, it’s almost like decorating your room, you’ll never be satisfied with the position of the portrait or the mat, sometimes even the paint, it’s always subject to change but it’s the things in the room you are changing not the room. Similarly my perfect moment has altered quite a lot, but the essence of the moment is not lost.
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When I was in grade 9, we had a lesson in Hindi, about an old man and his library. This old guy would spend a great deal of his time surrounded by books, reading, and re-reading, mentally having conversations with Tolstoy, Rabindranath Tagore, Premchand etc and it wasn’t a surprise to know that he even breathed his last in his library. The story was simple, no profound or hidden meanings in its text, but this story gave me an idea, an idea that further gave birth to my perfect moment.
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I dreamt of owning a library, not the regular kind with boring wooden beams and lots of books, but a room filled with shelves of books, books neatly covered in transparent sheets, in all shapes , sizes and languages, with large French windows overlooking a green and cool indoor garden, maybe with a swing in it too, and a small tea table, with a rustic kettle and a china tea cup. And after a day’s hard labor,I would go to my library and pull out a copy Tolstoys’s Anna Karenina in Russian, or Yashpal’s and Premchand’s short stories in Hindi, or Tagore’s Nastanirh in Bengali, or Pathumayude Aadu by Basheer in Malayalam, or better still a collection of Chekov’s letters to his wife again in Russian. The joy of reading the works of such writers in their own tongue is something different I suppose, never tried it , but I want to and for that I would have to learn Russian , Bengali and improve my Malayalam reading skills. Sounds stupid I guess,but I think translations hide the style of writing of the writer, they convey the story, but again the essence is lost. There would be many other books too, I think I could dedicate another post to just the books that I would like to read (and that my friend , would be very long!).
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I’ve already started collecting books, each of them in my possession has been neatly covered, and signed by me , someday that perfect moment is going to arrive, someday I would be gazing from my window, with a finished book. Till then I was wondering what flavored tea should I be drinking while swaying on the swing. Any suggestions?
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Sandra is a student, an amateur writer, reader, dreamer, shopaholic and the list goes on and on. She loves long walks on the beach and waking up to a wonderful breakfast, visiting new places and meeting new people. In short she likes every thing in life that is not black and white. Admires people who lead their life differently,who look beyond the obvious and seek to live their life according to their convictions, at their own pace and in own their time. She blogs at http://www.fortheperfectionistinme.blogspot.in