My blog through the perspective of AI

Today I paused to take note of the AI overview that appears whenever I run a search on Google. I thought, let me see what it says about my blog.

So here goes:

"Meanderings and Reflections "often refers to personal, contemplative writing, most notably the long-running blog by Susan Deborah featuring, thoughts on literature, daily life in India, and social observations. It captures a slow-life, observational style, covering topics like literature, rain, and personal anecdotes."

Key Aspects of "Meanderings and Reflections" (Susan Deborah Blog):

Literary Observations: Discussions on authors like Amitav Ghosh and Albert Camus.

Daily Life & Culture: Reflections on Chennai, the experience of rain, and social dynamics.

Personal Philosophy: Thoughts on happiness, the meaning of "simple," and the nature of memory.

Slow Life: A focus on reading, writing, and appreciating the present moment.

So I was grinning from ear to ear even though I know all these were gleaned from my blog. 

Well, what do you think dear reader?

Sundarban, Amitav Ghosh and love of novels

 My introduction to Sundarban in Bengal is primarily through the novels of Dr. Amitav Ghosh. His The Hungry Tide, Gun Island and the recent Ghost Eye has the beautiful forest as one of the main actors in the storyline. So. when one of my former students from Bengal visited the Sunderban, I wanted her to send some pictures of the forest and the rivers to me. She was gracious enough to send them to me, filling my heart and mind. Here are some of the pictures that she had shared with me. 

This picture is special because the red cloth is tied after prayers to the goddess Bonbibi, the deity who appears predominantly in Ghosh's novels. The deity is often invoked for protection from the tigers and other dangers which the local fisherman could face in the mangrove forest.

 

A crocodile

                         

                                         

       The vast expanse of the river which looks lovely

You might wonder that there are many pictures of the Sundarban littered all over the internet then why am I getting so excited over pictures that I procured from my former student. Well, one's lived experience is worth more than the many unknown photographers' pictures on the internet.

Thanks dear Aditi for the beautiful pictures.

Dear reader, I will pause here but leave two posts on the works of Dr. Ghosh which I had written.

1. Revisiting Amitav Ghosh's The Hungry Tide

2. Do you remember your WORDS?

Slow life . . .

 For some time now, I have been yearning for a slow life which meant reading, writing a bit, watching films/series and generally leading a mindful life. The wish has been granted but it came with a clause - The clause is illness. While I don't want to share the name of the illness, dear reader you are free to think of the most dreadful one which causes fear and a general sense of anxiety. Well, I am not here to discuss my state of health but what I do plan is to discuss my state of well-being in spite of the hospital visits and doctor consultations. 

Feni, our non-human companion on a foggy day 

Life has a way of slowing us down either with something unexpected or grave and it never makes a mistake. I got what I was yearning for along with an excess baggage of the illness without which the slow life wouldn't be possible at all. While I don't welcome the baggage whole-heartedly, I must also add that while we often get what we had asked for, we also get additional stuff which is like an add-on.

I have learnt to focus on the life I had wanted albeit for a little while and nurture that part of me which has to be cared for. I am extensively reading, sipping different kinds of tea, watching movies and series without any guilt and generally leading a life where I don't do much except for the aforementioned activities. Oh! yes, I have also started writing letters and long mails after a long hiatus because now I have the time to think, concoct my thoughts and be lavish with words which otherwise would be buried under a plethora of mundane and sundry jobs. 

What I do miss is my students and teaching from which I have taken a long break for now. I miss the giggles, jokes, sarcasm and camaraderie of fellow colleagues and staff. But I am not complaining for life knows what to bestow on you and the time for the same.

Keep me in your thoughts and prayers and remember that life listens to your innermost thoughts even when you don't proclaim it aloud!

Samuel Beckett and 67

 I read that '67' has been chosen as the word of the year 2025. Well, I searched for its meaning but it is nothing. Well, the word rather digits stand for nothing. It's a joke on us, I presume. Long ago a man named Samuel Beckett made the word 'absurd' quite fanciful. Well, at least it was a word and not some crazy two digits. The word 'absurd' also stood for nothing - the nothingness of life, the absurdity of existence and related ideas. His famous play, Waiting for Godot, was a play that signified nothing! Nonsense and absurdity was the tagline of the play.

Many playwrights of that era - early 20th century which was the post II World War period where disillusionment and the meaninglessness of human existence was explored and analysed. Well, it made us question our very existence and the purpose of life. If after studying the Theatre of the Absurd, one doesn't change their perspective of life then I would say that the whole English Literature is a futile exercise!

Well, reader that was the nothingness of Samuel Beckett. Now coming to 67 - at least 69 means something but that wasn't added to any dictionary but an absolutely meaningless two digit has been added. As I mentioned in the initial paragraph, the addition is a grand joke on the people. I wonder what Beckett would've thought about this; maybe he would have linked it to the Theatre of the Absurd and Martin Esslin would've  coined 'Absurd 67' - a great combo which would have at least brought some honour to the new addition.

However, you see it, I cannot accept 67 as a word! 69 is better any day. What's your take, dear reader?

Picture courtesy: Internet

Two crime thrillers which could've been shorter

 The past week, I watched two Indian crime thrillers on Jiohotstar - Search: The Naina Murder case and Murder in Mahim. While Search is adapted from the Danish series, The Killing, Murder in Mahim is an adaptation of a book by Jerry Pinto with the same title. Both the series had excellent actors in the title roles - Konkona Sen Sharma, Ashutosh Rana, Vijay Raaz among others who were outstanding in their performance.

                               

The two thrillers started off quite promisingly with the right cliffhangers between episodes and good twists and turns - which kept the viewer on tenterhooks. But somewhere in the middle of the series, one gets a feeling that there are unnecessary plot twists and while we think that finally the killer is trapped, the evidence is shaky and the trail is left. 

While I am not someone who leaves a series mid-way, I was more often then tempted to abandon the series and check out some other ones to spend my time (which at present is ample). The writing though started off at a good pace with catchy plot twists become slack and lazy where the viewer is taken on a merry-go-round which never stops albeit slowly without the needed thrill.

But both the stories are more of relationships and personal narratives more than the actual murder solving itself. For example, somewhere while watching Murder in Mahim, one forgets that a murder mystery is in progress while watching the homosexual subculture in the underbelly of Mumbai. I got the same feeling while reading Jerry Pinto's book which also lost the murder plot somewhere while taking the reader on a tour of the lesser explored aspects of the city that never sleeps. While the detour was equally interesting, the details were done with great care forgetting that the murderer had to be caught. 

I am happy that Murder in Mahim stopped with eight episodes while Search has a second season in the Naina Murder Case (yawn) which could've been avoided. Ah well! the series are a great platform for wonderful actors to be featured in the OTT platform while they aren't seen much in films.

A special treat for me was seeing Ashutosh Rana interact with transgenders which reminded me of his role as a transperson in Sangarsh, where his character sent shivers through my spine. To seem him as a soft and caring character was quite a different experience.

Have you watched these two? What was your experience?

Images: Internet (Wikipedia)

Will I ever be able to write a letter?

 For a while, after the colonisation of emails, WhatsApp and the like, I tried my best to write and receive letters. I did that for a while knowing fully well that I was trying to fight for something of the past that used to once fill me with joy. Some of the ways I did this was trying to write to friends and coaxing a reply out of them, passing notes in books and attempting hand-written notes whenever I could manage. As the colonisation spread rapidly, I was also affected. I stopped writing letters while still romanticising them and trying to act like a 'Save Letter-writing' warrior. Though I was still reminiscing letters and coaxing people to write letters to me, I did not write them. Whenever my mom sent any parcel from Chennai, she used to send some hand written notes of love and care; Sometimes my sister would also chip in few lines or write a paragraph. The note always made the cockles of my heart warm and goey with love. 

I reconciled to the fact that save these notes, there won't be any letters in the future. But I make sure that I talk about the joy of letter-writing to everyone and sundry and make them yearn for something they don't even know (referring to my students who have never written any letters ever). I feel fortunate that I was given this pleasure and that I experienced to the fullest possible in diverse ways - through pen friends across the globe, post-crossing, letters to students/friends/strangers who promised letters and so on. I still possess some of the letters and time to time read them not for its contents but for the warm feeling of something that used to exist but has passed away.

Recently, I watched a film, The Six Triple Eight on Netflix which was a drama based on the first all-black, all-female battalion in World War II. They had the formidable task of delivering 17 million pieces of mail in two months. Watching the film, my nostalgia for letters was triggered making me teary and longing for those days of yore when there were no emails and WhatsApp to convey messages. How those days kept us grounded yet anxious without making us restless. Well, the film was a lovely one where the joy of receiving mail after ages made the soldiers yelp with joy and tears. 

Two weeks ago, I tried coaxing someone who I met in a book group to write to me whenever they send me books. They agreed but doing something out of the blue is something that does not come easily for us and so I (the eternal optimist) have still not given up though the realists would thrash my hopes of getting a letter by post.

What are your thoughts on my hopes of getting/writing a letter?