rains and other thoughts

It rained yesterday and I was glad.
As the end-sems draw closer, keeping with tradition, the gusts of wind, the scudding clouds and flights of fancies become way more important than Laplace transforms et al.
We are thinking of rebooting that old play, trying to make it sound less a Woody Allen rip-off.
"Mon ta jader ghore maathe-ghaate . . . " So much for exam preps.

It was Satyajit Ray's birthday yesterday - still looming over the bengali's film consciousness. To think of the days this blog waxed effusive over 2nd May.

Spoke with an old, old blast from the past - talking of how we fought over Tolkien/Shakespeare in our schooldays, and how refreshing Thomas Hardy's pessimism seemed after endless tea-parties of the Bronte ilk. Giving up on ever 'finishing' Joyce. Spirited renditions of "Molly Malone" after the Dublin exchange program.

In Dublin fair city, where the girls are so pretty .....

And so in the quiet anonymity of this blog let me make sense of things. Should I take up the uphill task of somehow finding my way to the pearl-strewn shores of Eldamar. The Eldamar I had always cherished, longed for beyond hope, where still I dream (falsely) that someone waits silently.
Or the staid, everyday life under fading trees in this my Middle-earth. Infinitely safer, easier and expected.
I am no Earendel.