The other day I was at a Nikah among people I had only heard about but not met. In a conversation I was having, a woman used the word ‘travesty’. And I was taken aback, but then made a mental note that it was such a beautiful day to get married.
One of my friends looks at me with big eyes when I use ‘egalitarian’ or ‘space-time continuum’ in a verbal conversation. It’s not commonplace to meet people who know the exact word they want to use when they’re speaking. And when I do, I take a moment to let my heart fill up with joy, and trust me it does.
I’ve been watching videos as a part of an online MOOC. Some of the speakers are from countries where English is not the first language. However, when I watch them speak in borrowed English, there’s a common characteristic they share. All of them do it gently, slowly, and choose precise words to say exactly what they want to express. They’re very exacting with the words they use. For example, they use words like – solemnly, quarrelling, abundant, intersperse, rigorous – in their speech. It’s so refreshing to listen to them using a non-native language and use it so beautifully. I wish we did that more. I wish I did that more.
I’m policing myself to stop using ‘awesome’ for everything that is not awesome. It’s such a waste of a word and it is not exact for the situations it’s being used in. There is a whole dictionary full of words, but calling everything awesome is a travesty of the freedom of expression I have. And I am going to stop myself from becoming too clouded by unoriginality. No matter that I have to buy a pocket dictionary for it (or download one because there are too many books in my bag). But no more of this ‘awesome’ business. No more of this carelessness with language.
I’m quite taken by Passenger’s new album Young as the Morning Old as the Sea. So much so that I bought it legally. I love the lyrics and though I haven’t taken the time to Google if they had a theme while working on it, for some reason it reminds me of the good old non-intrusive and wide life. It reminds me of open roads and songs written inside notebooks. It reminds me of big dreams and seashells. It reminds me of Iceland. (Well, to be fair, everything reminds me of Iceland these days.) I feel that the song The Long Road was written for me, and I listen to it with careful attention. It’s addressed to me in a twisted manner. It’s about me in a parallel universe, not this one, but another one. And from what I have read about parallel universes, if you think about it, it starts to exist. Naoko told me. I swear.
I know I never admitted it, especially with all the harsh criticism that I have been doling out to ADHM, but a song in the movie wrenches my gut. Channa Mereya makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry. It’s has a poignancy to it that I cannot put my finger on. But it makes me want to roll over and weep. Arijit Singh, you rockstar.
You found faith but you, chose to doubt it.
You found love but you, left without it.
And now you don’t want, to talk about it.