Pending Visits

You know a blogger is at an all-time low, when she starts resorting to tags rather than write her own posts :)

But, seriously, although I avoid tags like the plague, for no reason at all, this fun post by Art, inspired me to do some thinking of my own...so here it is....

Some places I need/want/have to visit :

An alternative universe where work is not equal to money? (a.k.a Utopia?)

To be specific:

The Northern lights

France and Austria

The Chauvet caves (France again!)

Gir and Kaziranga national parks

Arunachal

Kailash/Mansarovar

I need to explore:

Ways to keep my creativity going in between too many "official" things to do!

New authors/non-fiction writing

I also am curious about:

How do book deals actually happen?

Why does Sagarika Ghosh persist on primetime when she is such an appalling reader/commentor?

When is a child ever old enough?

Where can I get good Punjabi-style salwars tailored, rather than the straight cut/narrow abominations most tailors here make?

What makes me enjoy doing this kind of thing, rather than getting on with my job??

Second-hand Grief

This morning, I cried for people I have never known. I was on my way to work, a normal day in every sense, until this song came on air, tears in heaven. I was listening and singing along, when I remembered the story behind the song. The one about the little boy who fell out of a fifty third story window. It is the saddest thing in the world, to have a three-foot-sized hole in one’s life, to be left with the memories of a life so short. I remembered all the parents I had heard of, who lost their children this way. I don’t know any of them personally. Some of them are friends of my parents, some of them acquaintances of neighbors, but their grief came to me fresh and warm, like the feel of falling tears. I tasted the second-hand grief, almost a whirlpool that sucked me in, churning me inside its vortex. I climbed out slowly, wiping my eyes, knowing well that I couldn’t have felt enough.