I am not ambitious for ecstasy, you will ask me to think of the future, but the decade to come pales before this second, the span of my life is less important than its quality. I want to sit here in the mild sun and try not to think, try and escape the iniquity of the restless of my mind. Do you understand. Doesn’t anyone understand the absence of ambition, or the simplicity of it.

Upamanyu Chatterjee

(English, August)

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Snippet #23

Posted in Journal

The Interlude Between Death and Laughter

I just woke up dreaming that I was writing a blog post. You know how it is – when there is something compelling that needs to be done and you’re so lazy that your brain makes up stories and fools you into thinking you’ve done it. I’ve been fooled a lot many times. Throughout school, I would dream that I was getting up, brushing my teeth and getting ready for school only to wake up with a jolt at my father’s loud exclamation and realise that I had only 15 minutes left to do all that before the school bus arrived.

“I dreamt that I was ready”, I would shout, half-apologetically, half-incredulously, as I made my way to the bathroom hastily avoiding my parents’ gaze and an odd hand frozen in the air mid-strike.

Continue reading “The Interlude Between Death and Laughter”

Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.

George Orwell

(Why I Write)

Snippet #22