The Grey Pilgrim Speaks
I have thought long and hard about what material would go into my blog, if I ever started one.Would I write of art and music? But who am I to speak of art who has never held brush to canvas, and who can strum but a few chords on a six string. Of Cinema and literature? Well , a couple of friends and I did make a short movie for Hostel night during our freshman year but that hardly qualifies as cinema ( And in any case that’s a story for another day) .Of Science and Technology? Maybe, I am an engineering student after all. Of Philosophy and the Answers to Life, the Universe and Everything? Nah, know them already, and I’m not sharing. Of my own experiences and the world as I see it through my eyes? Well, yes. For that is all I know or can ever claim to truly know. Of incidents and experiences that deserve more than storage garbled over space and time in the recesses of my poor memory.
As time passes by, the details fade and only the abstractions remain. Years hence, I might remember that school life was fun, hostel life was great, but that is nowhere near enough. God is in the details.
How about memories like the one time in my freshman year when we were reading ( Or at-least trying to read) Hofstadter’s Godel Escher Bach and we chanced upon the precise mathematical statement of Godel’s Incompleteness Theorem , and so flummoxed were we by the sheer incomprehendibility (if that’s even a word) of those combination of words that we proceeded to write them on sheets of paper and plastered them on our room doors much to the bewilderment of those who happened to walk by our wing. Or the time we heard, while passing by the bog, a senior singing “aaaaooo naaa, aaaaooo naa” early one morning while going about his daily chores . Or the now famous incident of Holi past, when a courageous band of ten fishermen proceeded to beat up and seriously injure almost half of the insti on Besant Nagar Beach . More than the incident itself I would never want to forget the most solemn , like he was a survivor of the Normandy beach landings or something, manner, in which my good friend theBlackMamba narrated the incident to me . And when on noticing that I was highly amused, said in the most grave of tones, worthy of a sage, “You weren’t there da”. (Churchill might have said “Never before were so many beaten up , by so few, in so short a time”) Or even the time when Jamuna won Schroeter ( yeah yeah…whatever) and came trooping into Saras, beating on their makeshift drums on Gymkhana day, but we were ready for them with our leftover stocks from that year’s Holi.
No, these moments are too precious to entrust to my feeble memory.
Why write a blog ? Why for all the world to see?
Well writers like to be read, I’m not claiming to be a ‘writer’, but I’d still like to be read.
There’s also the ulterior motive of wanting to get back into the habit of writing .
So, if you like my stuff, say hi, and leave a comment and if you didn’t, well you can sod off, but leave a comment anyways.
I am Olorin , wielder of the flame of Anor.
And this is where the Grey Pilgrim speaks.