Monday, July 21, 2003

Diaries are more fun. You can’t say “Dear Blog”, for instance, without feeling more than a little foolish. And you certainly can’t put down the things you can safely say in your private li’l book for whoever drops in to read. Then why a blog? This is a question that occupies me every time I think I should add an entry. Why indeed.

We performed Jean Anouilh’s ‘Episode in the Life of An Author’ today at Trinca, a bar-restaurant on Park Street (in Calcutta, for the uninitiated). I played the part of a Rumanian journalist, come to interview the Author. Light little farce, quite easy on the nerves. It was quite an experience, performing in such a place, and I think it was worth the (minimal) trouble we took over it. It was a free show, a sort of bonus for today’s lunch guests. We ourselves didn’t get any money, but we did get to order our choice of a scrumptious lunch. And there were free tasters of Bacardi Breezer on offer. Altogether, we didn’t do too badly off a show it took us five evenings to bring together, more or less. And I didn’t even mention the press coverage we should get for such an unusual performance.

Spirits have finally revived after a couple of days of feeling very sorry for myself. Beq and I MUST learn not to get on each other’s nerves so much.

-- See, that’s what I mean. How on earth is an utter stranger going to know who Beq is and why my spirits would be low? So I might as well write all this in my diary, except it’s too much hard work actually writing all this in the big book. Typing’s so much less work. (shamefaced grin)

Friday, July 11, 2003

The question is this: given the existence of a blog that I infrequently update and which almost nobody knows about because I’m wary of letting people know what I think, what are the chances of my continuing to write? Pretty low one would guess. But what the hell, look at my diary. I’ve written maybe six entries in the last two years but it’s still in being, innit?
I’m back in Calcutta. To my mild astonishment, got culture shock as soon as I entered the city. The old buildings were so dilapidated and the pollution was so high and the vehicles were so many and the buses were so loud and the people were so noisy and well, you get the idea. And I’ve only been away six weeks. But thankfully, water is in plentiful supply. (When the apartment pump is in order of course. Let that go on record too.)
Have got myself formally admitted to JU for the MA course. My instincts say I did the right thing but nobody else agrees.
Turned twenty-one on Tuesday. Had a grand birthday. I’d been complaining of having to return to Cal right on my birthday, and I must really have bored it into a lot of people, because so many of my “friends and relations” were sweet enough to call up – mostly long distance – and others mailed. Basically, they all remembered. Mejopishi and Mejokhurima dished up stunning fare for three meals. All in all it more than made up for having to come away from home and spending the day being at the mercy of petty clerks. What more could a girl ask for?
We’re probably doing ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead’ later this year. It should be interesting. Must get a copy from somewhere. In addition there is the departmental production, whatever that may be. Plus JU is starting the semester system this MA onwards. Life could be more promising but not much.

Parties tomorrow. We’re going on a binge at Oly and then moving on Someplace (Else, at The Park) hopefully later. Thank god Beq’s exams end tomorrow. Then there is a jaunt with Anish sometime. Not to mention Tapu.

Life is good!!!