The last few days are quite comfortable ones, with work going good and all. But my mind is spitting out expletives of the worst kind to even the smallest things that irritate me. The reason is the book that i am reading. The God Of Small Things. Every one of the nights, that i slept with the book, i was cursing the inconsiderate characters in the book, at the same time loving the most endearing charactors of Ammu, Rahel, Estha, Velutha and Sophie mol. I know the society and i can feel it. The little magical world of the children, the mismatched character of ammu who refused to be bound by the silly hypocritical society, paying for that with her life. Her stifled dreams of getting back with her children, the heartache about not being able to support them. I am thinking of that as the greatest pain a single mother can have. Inconsiderateness is dirty. Some times its the religion and its convoluted explanations which gives these villains the strenght to hurt their own people, while other cases its just plain dirty mind. Fuck them.

I was thinking of the nice moments i spend with my little cousin sister, around a year ago . she was just 8 months old or something then. so there is no much communication. i have to say that those were the most soothing moments in my life. just watching her lying down or lying down next to her on the floor. i was thinking of the reasons for being so happy beyond the obvious one that how cute she looked. Few weeks before, i went to meet her again. And she has grown up. First few hours, she didnt come to me. But then it was ok. She has grown up into a little girl already. Like she wouldnt scream when some body blocked her way. She would keep on repeating, move away with increasing levels of insistence without losing her dignity. It was a wonder ful scene. I could spend only one day as before but it was good time, to remember.

Its a pretty difficult life without dreams. Thats one problem right now.
Another interesting stuff is fantasy. Just skip into the other world when you are pretty much bored of the real one. And my fantasies during my teens were more related to utopian worlds. Fantasy without much fun. But these days i am going back to a child's mentality. Reading harry porter and getting into fantasy stuff like that. Just a try, didnt touch me much, though i would say i dreamt of a flying horse. Books are good things. The books i like has a world in it which welcomes me to join it as a spectator. I enjoy the drama, the gentle emotions and the beautiful surroundings in those places. But thats not it, isnt it. Books must be there which talk more than about the society and human relations. Either i havent tried them yet, or i have avoided the parts which goes deeper than the normal stuff.
I have this friend, who has been smitten with thougths of life. He keeps thinking, reading philosophy, arguing with himself. He hasnt got a fellow friend who thinks in the same level. So sometimes he turns to me, and he will use me just as a listener. I dont have much sync with his thoughts either, or as i said before, just ignores most of them. The last time i went home, and met him, we talked, and i saw that he is coming back to us from the idea that he was talking to me at levels that i can understand. He seems to moderate himself, or restrict his thoughts. Anyway i dont know whether thats a good thing or bad. I wont be going deep into any of the stuff as long as i have some thing like a job to engage me.