Ah, yes. So, it’s been a long time since I typed out anything. Please, before I begin, let me tell you why I got this sudden urge to write.
Dekho bhai, sahi baat hai. While all was rainbows and unicorns in my world, the unexpected happened. After happily spending six hours without electricity thanks to alternative power sources, karma finally took a toll on me and laughed and said, ‘heheh Noor. Enjoying life? Everything good? Thehro. Aik minute.’ And then, poof. All the lights went off and I swear I could almost hear the entire population of Punjab and NWFP groan collectively over the power shortage that has taken half of the country because our hydroelectric power generators went phuss. So, now I sit here in the dark, hunched over the only useful electronic that has battery left in it, squinting to make out the letters and cursing at myself for not charging anything because I sit with less than 40% battery right now. You must be thinking, haaye yeh kitni khabees hai. Whine karnay ke liye hi likhti hai. Phir apnay aap ko bari blogger samajhti hai.
Waisay, I’m thinking the same thing. But I’m also thinking another thing. Since now I have no distractions except maybe the mass of my hair which is partially blinding me to what I type, let me begin. I was wondering about what I did back in the good ol’ days, when things like twitter and snapchat didn’t exist to cure boredom. Phir, while I was trying to find my iPod, my hand fell on a copy of David Copperfield, that old classic that lay untouched for years in my drawer. A point to note here is that most of the books I own are sasti paperbacks because a) Time pass karnay ke liye kuch chahiye and b) I’m always almost broke. And most of them are classics I got from the clearance aisle because apparently nobody likes to read them. And that’s where the beauty of classics come in, these under-appreciated works of art happen to be sitting at far corners of book stores, ignored. And when I had started reading them out of sheer boredom (read: boredom has been my main problem for quite some years.), I found the intricacies of their writing style quite interesting. These boring old authors, as most people know them by, paid more attention to detail than modern authors do, I feel. With their long-stretched scenes and observations, you get to see another side of history. One that isn’t just simply derived from facts, but from the ideas, feelings and emotions of ordinary people during that era.
Another thing about them is how most old and worn out copies have a familiar smell to them. They have a special aroma to them, as I would like to say. One of my favorite classics is Agnes Grey by Anne Bronte. The selection of words that classic authors use is pretty amazing to me. How they don’t just present characters and dialogues, but they wrap them up in lacy English and delicate words before presenting them. And the interesting thing is that the reader has to unwrap those flowery words to unveil the meaning that lies in between . And this thing isn’t just applicable to classics, but to some of the most brilliant pieces of literature that exist. Or maybe I’m just a romantic who likes to read about old fashioned love stories I can subtly haaye over.
Khair, enough with boring you guys with my deep philosophy. Mujhe neend arahi hai. Luls. Light agayi hai. Bye!
Coming To Terms. 