Beginning Proust, and other recent reads

I have decided to finally take the plunge. I am now reading Marcel Proust's epic work, 'In search of lost time'. What possessed me to embark on this journey that many have avoided, and too many have abandoned mid-way, I cannot explain (may have had something to do with chance encounters with this and this). All I know is, so far (I am half way through volume 1) I have got goosebumps several times as something that he has written has struck a firm cord, or something he's said has thrown a fresher, clearer light on an issue that lay murky and unclear in my head. Several people with interest in literature say they wish they had written 'In search of lost time'. I think I am only just beginning to see why.

Apart from Proust's absorbing tale, there is little time for anything else. I did manage, however, to finish some stuff that was being recommended at work. It started off being interesting, but the idea of allowing employees greater autonomy over their work is not entirely revolutionary. It has been around for a while, only now some handful of organisations are actually doing something about it. Till such time as there is greater trust that every employee can and will take care of her work without having to be 'managed', lip service is all we will ever have regarding greater work autonomy.

But then, management was never my cup of tea. So, pursuing things more amenable, here is a book that just makes you fall in love with winter. Because it gives you a reason for wanting to create these beautiful patterns and cosy knits. It is the idea of gloomy, wet, cold winter evenings magically transformed into those of endless possibilities and creative pursuits. Just the thought of having a gorgeous yarn to keep you company makes the prospect of winter, dare I say, enjoyable. So much can be done, not just to satisfy one's innate need for creativity, but also to engage the mind in the process of making something beautiful, yet functional, with one's hands. The only time I find my mind relaxing into a cheerful hum is when I am knitting a familiar pattern - of course, after I have resisted the urge to compete with myself and make even the most calming act of yarn over needle into a race against time.

In other stories, N and I are reading lots of lovely picture books. Some super favorites are:

• Babies love books
• Stones
• I took the moon for a walk
• Say goodnight
• Ten little fingers and ten little toes

He is going through this phase where on a given page in a book, he will point to every little thing (cat, tree, sock, ball, whatever) and then ask "Eeya?" which is his word for "What's that?" And then I have to say "That's a duck!" and he goes 'Ya! Ya!". Like he knew all along and was just testing me! It is so much fun!

Happy reading to you!

Just being

*

I have lost track of the time that I have been away from this space. The trouble is, when there isn't much activity on the blog, there is usually a lot happening in the background. So much that there isn't the time or the energy to make time to blog.

So the last couple of months have been about a pressure cooker situation at work, parents over from India, a holiday in the Peak District, N coming down with yet another gastro bug, and A and I losing sight of what's important, and losing it over and over again. And before I knew it, it was Diwali, yet again catching me totally unprepared.

Two aborted desserts and one banging-head-against-wall-in-tears-session later it was time to pull oneself together. There were four hours to go before the guests arrived and I had a lot to get through. I will not lie, thirty minutes before their arrival I was once again in tears, frantically trying to get the besan to mix with the spinach and the onions.

I remember being told that the pakoras came out well. It was already half way through the evening before I decided to forgive myself. I don't do forgiving myself well. It was a call that had to be taken at that moment - forgive self for not being the ultimate-well-planned-party hostess or lose the night forever in blame and remorse.

I chose the former. I think it has to do with age. And with trying to learn from previous mistakes.

It was a great party, I'm told. I wouldn't know, I was too busy just being, not judging myself, just having fun.

* Two beauties at The Heights of Abraham in the Peak District