Its Saturday morning. Such a good feeling. We’ve started living on weekends. I remember telling smitha once- “Of course it shouldn’t matter if the engagement is on a weekend or not- its an important day in your life, and fixing the date should be more a function of your ease than of the invited guests.” Well, lets just say that things are not so simple anymore. Reminds me of Aurangabad.
Its Lord Krishna time. I have to study his ideologies, study what the ISKCON movement is about- I am designing a temple for ISKCON at kanakpura road, Bangalore. I am sure it will be an extremely interesting experience. While reading about the ISKCON board, I found that most of the top guys there are IITians. Immediately I thought- ‘Che, what a waste of genius..’ But then again, its waste for us. I think for them, its more like ‘being proud to dedicate yourself to the service of humanity..’ Maybe that’s what these Americans think when we Indians return from their top posts to Bharat. We’re proud to receive them; others think it’s a waste of human intelligence- ‘you could have gone places’. Hmm...
I bought a book yesterday- ‘The Social History of Indian Architecture’. Good book, this. It talks about Indian architecture with respect to function rather than style. Style is something everyone talks about. This is the first book of its kind. Rather expensive, though- 995 bucks! I saw another book that I really liked- ‘In style’. Hehe...
One of my ideas that I am proud of is the ‘lalbagh walk’. In a desperate attempt to find a cheap alternative and repetitive destination for catching up with friends, I suggested visiting lalbagh every Sunday morning at 6 30. Kaustubh and I discussed this first, and slowly I made it applicable to the newly found set of mad friends from BMS. They cribbed and cried, but I was what Manasi would call ‘Hitler Rani’(!!). Hehe...Slowly they started turning up- although late every time- but it was awesome fun. We used to pretend that we shed a kilo every week by jogging for a hundred metres. We followed more or less the same route every time- down the main path in the direction of the music- to the glass house- up the hillock- sit down on the stone with the skyline of Bangalore to the right; pretending to take a break from the rigorous workout- and happily walk back to the west gate arguing which cafe to visit for breakfast. We were almost twelve once; was a warm experience. Then most of them left to the US for masters’ degrees. I’d love to go back, but not alone. There has been an attempt, though, to revive the ‘tradition’, but there is no drive. People start giving excuses, and I hate that. Today is one such morning- I am ready to leave home at 6 15 (a little late, I admit), when people started pulling out. Che.
