After much deliberation, this blog is moving on.
You can now visit your second most favourite blog of all time at our new location. Any guesses where? Okay.... how about you just google the blog name and see if anything new turns up.
The Blogspot address is not going anywhere for now. I plan to keep it alive for a couple of months till I am sure the kinks are worked out in the new place. Hopefully by vixdom's next birthday we would be in our new diggs.
If you are using a feedreader (like google reader) to follow this blog (and I know for a fact that 11 people are) then you might want to add the new URL too (if u manage to find it through google).
oh..and btw, vixlist is moving too.
And it would really help if you dropped in a your thoughts about the new blog.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Monsoon Magic
The human body, they say (they being the people who made the Liril ad) is 99% water.
Maybe for us Indians, its a wee bit higher 99.2% perhaps. How else would you explain why the rains bring a smile to every one of us. Sure, you have plenty of rational reasons to look forward to the monsoons. If they are't timely and sufficient, it results in a bad crop that agricultural season, which results in higher prices, which ultimately leads to the stock markets crashing. And supposed fringe benefits like better power production from our Hydel plants are also in the list. I say supposed because even after the best monsoons, we end up having power cuts during summer. Every. Single. Year.
But when the first drop falls on your cheek, you do not consider all the above stuff. Its as if (to be filmi), the rain completes you.
I am not aware of any other culture which such a vast collection of 'rain songs'. Its almost like a baptism that every heroine needs to go through - her own rain song.
Anyways, I personally can (and probably will) spend hours looking at the rain - as it drips from the leaves, as it fogs up my window, as it seems to slow down around the bright street lights, as it makes the comforting 'ssshhhhhh' sound while I snuggle in bed.
In my 'younger years' (can't believe I said that), I used to have a crush on a (different) girl every monsoon. I remember at least 5 monsoon crushes I had. And after the third time, I realized the trend and started looking forward to the rains, and perhaps subconsciously triggering the need to have a crush 'for the season'.
I will end this schoolboy essay by saying that, I know that as the season progresses, and messes with a few weekends, and causes the roads to be fit only for horseback, I will start cursing the season. But I hope the monsoons never cease to be magical.
Maybe for us Indians, its a wee bit higher 99.2% perhaps. How else would you explain why the rains bring a smile to every one of us. Sure, you have plenty of rational reasons to look forward to the monsoons. If they are't timely and sufficient, it results in a bad crop that agricultural season, which results in higher prices, which ultimately leads to the stock markets crashing. And supposed fringe benefits like better power production from our Hydel plants are also in the list. I say supposed because even after the best monsoons, we end up having power cuts during summer. Every. Single. Year.
But when the first drop falls on your cheek, you do not consider all the above stuff. Its as if (to be filmi), the rain completes you.
I am not aware of any other culture which such a vast collection of 'rain songs'. Its almost like a baptism that every heroine needs to go through - her own rain song.
Anyways, I personally can (and probably will) spend hours looking at the rain - as it drips from the leaves, as it fogs up my window, as it seems to slow down around the bright street lights, as it makes the comforting 'ssshhhhhh' sound while I snuggle in bed.
In my 'younger years' (can't believe I said that), I used to have a crush on a (different) girl every monsoon. I remember at least 5 monsoon crushes I had. And after the third time, I realized the trend and started looking forward to the rains, and perhaps subconsciously triggering the need to have a crush 'for the season'.
I will end this schoolboy essay by saying that, I know that as the season progresses, and messes with a few weekends, and causes the roads to be fit only for horseback, I will start cursing the season. But I hope the monsoons never cease to be magical.
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