Sitting few hours away from the next month, I wonder at the passing November. I must say that the month did not take very kindly to me. Or is it the other way round? Did I not take November in the right spirit . . . Well, I can ruminate and introspect. Reading the Big B's blog was truly connecting to him in several spheres. He may be the ruling man in Bollywood but his blog connects one to the man - the real man who is great, vulnerable, sad, angry, tired, sleepy, grumpy and many other things. I resisted writing comments on his blog, maybe I wanted to be a secret reader of his everyday travails. It unfolded like a page of the book of his life. He is like any of us and is humble enough to show it and bare it all. My admiration for him has moved in degrees. Nice and neat blog. Well, coming back to a review of the passing November, all I can see is that I am not what I had assumed I was. When bared of high talk and emotional strappings, I was a vulnerable woman standing and waiting for something nice to happen. Well, that is me and was. maybe at this instant I am changing and growing. November will be etched (I say this as of now) in my mind or maybe in later years it will become a faint and faded page of history that exists but does not seem as alluring. History interests me now but earlier it did not. maybe things might change like that. Sweet November you are passing by . . . I cannot thank you less for you unfolded many things that were unnerving and moving at the same time - The floods in Chennai, The Mumbai episode and certain aspects that involved yours truly. I shall wait to enter december with hope and grit for that will lead me on the new year with promising horizons - Sometimes unknown melodies do seem sweeter than heard ones (Thanks to Mr. Keats for this).
Reader, never lose hope. Always keep sight of joy for sometimes it likes playing hide-and-seek.