TWTW (05/08 - 11/08)

An indescribable melancholy enveloped me this week and I am writing this primarily to examine the reasons for this infernal infestation of my mind.

The week began with Sindhu going down cluelessly at Nanjing to Carolina Marin. Is Sindhu destined to be second? Why can’t we have a true world champion in any activity? And midweek, the first day at Lord’s, the Mecca of Cricket, was washed out. On the 2^nd day, in between spells of rain, Indian batting was torn apart for 107 by a ball that swung late and lethally. It brought back painfully embarrassing memories of the 70s. Why is this generation oblivious to the virtues of test cricket and its parallels with life at large? The mercenary IPL is ruining test cricket. But why should these sporting matters disturb my equanimity? Apparently, they have that power!

There were other sorrowful matters in the week. A grand old politician, whose middle name spelt corruption with K, passed away. I was sad not because of his inevitable end, but by people squabbling in court on where to bury him. And why in a democratic country, should anyone be buried in a public beach? Heavens opened up above the God’s Own Country, but was the flood due to rains or the delay in opening the dam gates? Nature is bound to exact a toll for tampering with the ability of rivers to drain the excess waters. Also, during the week, the Prime Minister, held as the first among equals, made a joke in poor taste, which had to be expunged from the parliamentary proceedings. A bad example if one was required in these times. And some thugs masqueraded as pilgrims in and around Delhi.

But these were incidents far removed from me. Closer to my home trees were hacked haphazardly, only because some branches were threatening the spit and polish of some cars. So now the branch that drooped lovingly and framed the window at my home is gone. Can’t we have people who trim trees professionally with some sensitivity and aesthetics? Is my mind, less occupied as it is nowadays, inviting such despairing thoughts wilfully?

A more rational explanation for my melancholy must be in the daily short stories I read, as part of my resolution this month. These have been dark, chilling, even haunting, especially Shirley Johnson’s Lottery. But why am I choosing such stories to read? Or are the stories choosing to infect my predisposed mind? The pages of “India’s War”, that I have been gobbling up this week to meet a deadline is adding to the gloom, filled as they are with accounts of our soldiers dying in hundreds and thousands in WW-II theatres of Africa and Burma. Sad because they were ill-equipped, ill-trained and most importantly whose cause were they fighting for?

The melancholy weighed me down, or to put it more correctly, I allowed myself to be weighed down. I had a task at hand, which I neglected and procrastinated. A reminder of the deadline jolted me into action. I got my task done, but it was a laboured and lackadaisical effort.

Watched only one film this week. Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. What a ghoulish theme for a musical! How can a revenge story be narrated in such sweet songs? The mind boggles.

But I must end on a positive note. Delhi beckons next week.