I am, as usual, attempting to write by, well, not writing. Though in all fairness, it isn’t because I’ve been procrastinating. Rather, the whole world and its goldfish has been interrupting me, which is why I figured that I might as well now interrupt myself and put this post up. In the past hour, I’ve
- made 5 phone calls for someone who can’t operate their phone because they can’t see anything. They can’t see anything because they sat on their glasses.
- listened to elaborate plans about a holiday in Srinagar
- been lectured at length about how entirely wonderful a captain Sourav Ganguly is and how Kolkata Knight Riders are probably weeping into their pillows right now
- ordered chicken and egg fried rice from Mister Chow’s only to be told that I should cancel the order because we’re having watermelon for dinner. So I cancelled the order and then called Chow’s back and told them to send not just a chicken and egg fried rice but also two plates of Chow Chu Prawns. Watermelon, in case anyone was wondering, is for dessert.
- had a soundtrack of CID (or some such Hindi version of CSI) at a level that’s just loud enough to be deeply annoying but low enough to make the dialogues sound like gibberish. Oh wait. That’s not a murder, that’s cricket. IPL. Yay.
- been asked to decide what we can have for a heavy breakfast tomorrow. Making this decision is a particularly futile project because of course we will change our mind by the time tomorrow morning happens.
After all this, I’ve given up. Why fight the inevitable? Clearly I am doomed to nuzzle nervously against deadlines.
But in the midst of all this, I did get something charming in the email. A poster illustrated by Quentin Blake, whose spiky drawings appeared in some of my favourite books from kiddie-hood. I’d see those trembly lines that are his trademark and they’d make me grin. Pictures weren’t something I paid much attention to while reading books as a kid. I usually liked the ones that didn’t have pictures in them. They had less distractions. Quentin Blake, however, was an exception. He completed stories for me. I wouldn’t have giggled half as much while reading The BFG if it didn’t have his illustrations and to this day, I think of dreams in jars and wish I’d inspired the cover drawing of Matilda.
So much fun and so true.