On May Morning - John Milton

Now the bright morning Star, Day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The Flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.
Hail bounteous May that dost inspire
Mirth and youth, and warm desire,
Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,
Hill and Dale, doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early Song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.





Its clear blue skies, bounce in my step, song in my head kind of weather. It must be May.





May has always been my favourite month of the year. Just the name evokes warmth much joy, warmth and happiness. Of course in India it means the yearly summer vacation before the start of the school year in June and I am sure everyone who has been a child escaping the dread of exams knows how many memories it can rekindle.





May is the month which stirs all the sense. I am fortunate enough to live in a place surrounded by greenery and a large number of flowering trees. With the advent of Spring come the new baby leaves and with them arrive the myriad butterflies, bees and tiny singing birds. An orchestra of nature, ephemeral yet vivacious. The earth comes alive in with all these vibrant flowers blooming wild as far as eyes can see. These flowers can only be rivalled by the glorious summer fruits: Watermelons, Jackfruits, Jamuns, Litchies and of course the king of them all - the Alphonso Mango. If you have never tasted an Alphonso in your life you don’t know what a real mango tastes like.





May also has one of the most momentous days of the year – Mother’s day. By some strange turn of events I finally get to spend Mother’s day with my Mommy :) Thanks fate.





And even if everything else was going haywire, which it’s not, I can always rely on the May weather. These beautiful days - warm and breezy, bright and fragrant, long and mellow – make me wonder whether all of Wordsworth’s poems were written in May. I mean I am definitely not a poet but I feel inspired enough to write a verse or two. Quite tempting but I’d rather sit on this carpet of green, feel the balmy breeze and enjoy my fresh Litchi sorbet before it melts.

Lolita, Chapter 25

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or "starlet"

Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I Talk in a daze, I walk in a maze
I cannot get out, said the starling).

Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Cream Cougar the present craze?
And where are you parked, my car pet?

Who is your hero, Dolores Haze?
Still one of those blue-capped star-men?
Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays,
And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen!

Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts!
Are you still dancin', darlin'?
(Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts,
And I, in my corner, snarlin').

Happy, happy is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
Among the protected wild life.

My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soliel Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?

L'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita;
Son fele -- bien fol est qui s'y fie!
Il neige, le decor s'ecroule, Lolita!
Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie?

Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I'm dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.

Officer, officer, there they go--
In the rain, where that lighted store is!
And her socks are white, and I love her so,
And her name is Haze, Dolores.

Officer, officer, there they are--
Dolores Haze and her lover!
Whip out your gun and follow that car.
Now tumble out and take cover.

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Her dream-gray gaze never flinches.
Ninety pounds is all she weighs
With a height of sixty inches.

My car is limping, Dolores Haze,
And the last long lap is the hardest,
And I shall be dumped where the weed decays,
And the rest is rust and stardust.

- Vladimir Nabokov

Blurb on the back: In the slums of eighteenth-century France, the infant Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born with one sublime gift - an absolute sense of smell. As a boy, he lives to decipher the odors of Paris, and apprentices himself to a prominent perfumer who teaches him the ancient art of mixing precious oils and herbs. But Grenouille's genius is such that he is not satisfied to stop there, and he becomes obsessed with capturing the smells of objects such as brass doorknobs and frest-cut wood. Then one day he catches a hint of a scent that will drive him on an ever-more-terrifying quest to create the "ultimate perfume" - the scent of a beautiful young virgin. Told with dazzling narrative brillance, Perfume is a hauntingly powerful tale of murder and sensual depravity.

My Thoughts: First of all I love the way the book is written but I guess that speaks more about the prowess of the translator than that of the author because I was amazed how contemporary the book read while being true to its 18th century roots. But the author deserves a big round of applause for his descriptive skills because at certain points in the book I could practically smell what Grenouille was smelling. And I don't really have a keen sense of smell. Such details, such descriptions, such use of words!!! This is the only book in which I have underlined sentences just for the beauty of the arrangements of words in them. I love the sinister workings Grenouille's mind but then I have never met an anti-hero that I didn't like. The book can get a bit grotesque in some parts especially the initial chapters but I like dark, creepy writing so I won't complain. The book also taught me a lot about the art of perfume-making and has compelled me to add "create my own scent" to my bucket list.

What I didn't like the book was the ending. I think it would have been better if the novel would have ended when Grenouille walks out of his beheading procession leaving the crowd behind in a manic orgy. That kind of open-ended departure would have actually worked better. I must admit that I have seen the movie before reading the book but while the movie is good on its own it never overpowers the book. The strength of the book lies in hypnotic decsriptions and delightful details and should be read as an "Ode to Perfume" rather than "The Story of a Murderer".

Rating: 4/5

Blackwell's Bookshop
51 Broad Street Oxford, OX1 3, United Kingdom
01865 792792





This bookshop is legendary. If you ever get a chance to visit Oxford in your life, please do visit this shop; it's history is as rich as the history of the town it is situated in. Great selection, beautiful architecture and a quaint coffee shop; this boosktore has it all. But the main reason why this place should be a must visit on any bibilophile's list is because of The Norrington Room: the largest single room devoted to book sales in all of Europe (the 10,000 sq. ft., more than 3 miles of shelving). According to Wiki, In order to create such a large space in a small city, Blackwell's excavated underneath Trinity College's gardens. So don't get boggled by the tiny main entrance, this bookstore literally runs deep.






Strictly speaking this isn't a secondhand bookstore but they have a fairly decent collection of secondhand books on the third floor of the main shop. And they have dedicated staff for each floor so one doesn't have to run up and down carrying their loads to be rung up. They also have some great walking tour in case you are in mood for some sightseeing.





I bought these books, secondhand of course but well preserved.





1. The Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov
2. A Writer's Nightmare - RK Narayan
3. Solar - Ian McEwan
4. The Historian - Elizabeth Kostova

After a really long time I managed to get on a flight which gave me a
24-hour layover in London but the weather there was playing party-pooper so
I decided to get away from the city as soon as possible. I have always
wanted to go to Oxford but the plans never materialised. I went by train
because it's the quickest; there are some buses plying too but I think they
take a couple of hours to reach there. The best way to go is to take a
train from Paddington Station (District Line) and the trip takes around
55-60 mins. A regular ticket costs £54 I reckon but if you travel offpeak
the price is almost half that; it cost me only £22.50 for a return trip.




Paddington Station is beautiful and it reminded a lot of Victoria Terminus
back home in Mumbai, only its a lot colder and a lot less crowded.





Before coming to Oxford I decided that there are two things that I
definitely wanted to do. One was visit the Boldenian Library and the other
was to take a walking tour by Blackwell Bookstore. It was a great relief
that both of these places are very close to each other.




The Boldenian Library Gate.





The Boldenian Library is probably the most beautiful building in a town
brimming with beautiful buildings. It was built in the early 17th century
and is still used as the main research library of Oxford University. Its
also a copyright library which means that every book copyrighted in the UK
must be deposited there. The reason I wanted to see this place was because
it features in the first two Harry Potter movies. The tour itself was
pretty bland. The tour guide went on listing the number of famous people
who read here instead of giving any real information.

The tour at Blackwell Books was much better. Our tour guide was a
gray-haired jolly old fellow named Peter and since he was an Oxford local,
he had a lot of interesting stories and tidbits to share.




A big post on Blackwell books coming up soon.




Right across from Blackwell Books is the Sheldonian Theatre.




Exeter College.





The Turf Tavern, the most popular pub in Oxford.




The Bridge of Sighs.




Edmund Halley's home in the New College Lane.




Tower of Five Orders.





The last window on the first floor is the room in which Shakespeare spent a
night on his way to Stratford. This is where my Blackwell tour ended. The
rest of the day was spent wandering around sketching and taking pictures.





The Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archeology.




Martyrs' Memorial.

London turned out to be a damp squib. It rained all day yesterday; piercing, soul chilling rain. Somebody please remind the weather gods that its May already, high time to send poor London some summery weather. So I did nothing but vegetate on Tumblr for hours while drinking endless cups of really bad tea and later watched "The Shining".





A few days ago a couple of friends of mine - both huge Stephen King fans - gifted me this Stephen King double DVD set and the book "Different Seasons" which has four novellas corresponding to the four seasons. I haven't started reading it yet but I might soon because one of the stories in the book is "Rita Hayworth and The Shawshank Redemption" which was of course the basis of the movie with almost the same name and I really love that movie. The Shawshank Redemption is the only Stephen King adaptation that I like, mainly because of Morgan Freeman and his deep voice but the story itself is quite engaging too. I can't really say the same thing about the other Stephen King adaptations but then I haven't seen too many of them. The Green Mile was alright but the premise was a little too half-baked for me. The Secret Window was just too predictable and boring. I am pretty sure I have seen Carrie a long time ago but I don't remember much of it now.

I am NOT blaming King for bad adaptations of his books and I am certainly not the kind of person who judges a book by its movie. But if you are considered "The King of Thrillers and Horror" people develop a certain level of expectations out of you. That's why I wanted to read The Shining before watching the movie because I didn't want any preconceived notions about whether its Kubrick's raison d'etre or King's greatest artwork or why they don't like each others work anymore. I think I reviewed the book earlier and I gave it 3 stars or maybe 2, I don't remember. The book was great in it's own way and had a fair number of chilling moments but it is so NOT the scariest book ever as so many people claim it to be. I have read HP fanfic scarier than it. I have read poems far more chilling. But I guess that's just a matter of different opinions and personal taste. I would call The House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski a scary book. Dante's Inferno, The Hannibal Lecter series, A Clockwork Orange - all beautiful pieces of literature but also very scary books.

Coming to the movie I'd definitely rate the it higher than the book because of exemplary performances by all the actors involved, especially Jack Nicholson. I don't think anyone but Jack would have done the role justice. If anyone else has seen the movie and read the book would know that a lot of the scenes have been changed in the movie like the hedge animals, the blood elevator, the twin girls and "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy". Stanley Kubrick deployed all the possible classic (read cliched) horror devices to make the movie scarier but somehow it ended up funny. Like the staircase scene with Wendy swinging the bat at Jack, I just couldn't stop laughing at that. A film cannot be saved just by the acting prowess of the main lead. I guess in the end the movie was way too OTT for me. But then I haven't seen a Hollywood movie in years that gave me goose bumps let alone sleepless nights. I guess the best thing to come out of this is a Simpsons Episode.

Is there a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon than by watching Allo Allo back-to-back, drinking ridiculous amounts of coffee and reading Stephen Hawking? I guess there must be but none is more rewarding. Since I have started getting money again, sitting at home doing nothing has definitely become more pleasurable. The Grand Design is a great book if you have just started reading Cosmology or Quantum Physics but if you already know a bit about black holes and m theory than its definitely nothing new. Its more of introductory, beginners' level Physics. I got this for 50 rupees at my local raddiwala and bought it for the pictures. And the pages are still printer-sticky, that means the previous owner didn't even bother opening the book. How can anyone pass up Stephen Hawking? Great for some light reading on a Saturday afternoon though.

It seems like I have been slacking since the beginning of the month but I am happy to say that it has been a conscious decision. I really think that I deserved a break from this blog and the blog from me. And coming out of that slack makes me feel great even though I have nothing even semi-important to say here. These past few months I have been concentrating on blogging a lot; to the point where it seemed to become a chore. Don't get me wrong, I love blogging; I have been doing it for more than 11 years now. But these past few months everything was starting to be about the blog. The pressure to document everything I do, picture every interesting tidbit I saw and then put it out there for the world to see is just overwhelming. Of I am very curious by nature and I have a pretty interesting life and I love taking pictures and I love writing about things I like but doing that for the sake of keeping a blog active doesn't seem the correct way of going about it. It felt like I was missing half the fun by continuously streaming my life out there.

The past fifteen days have been amazing. I went to 6 different cities in 5 different countries and I got paid for the first time in five months so I was finally able to just let go and enjoy my days rather than worrying about counting every penny and all those backed-up bills. I had some of the loveliest, funniest set of crew and met some remarkable new people. Had the best freaking pancakes of my life (amongst other delicious things). Went to a wine tasting party. A Bonfire. Ate fondue for an entire day. Started exercising again. Bought a bunch of clothes from a whimsical thrift store. Bought a lot of books. All the while enjoying the best possible weather the Northern Hemisphere has to offer with each tree just about bursting out with blossoms. I didn't take pictures of any of these events and guess what; I know I'll remember these days just as fondly as all the other memories. Maybe even more so because I know I've to keep them alive in my mind.

On the first day I did feel a bit guilty about leaving my camera behind, my constant companion since 2009. But by evening I was at peace. I realized that all the documenting and remembering of things have to come more from a place of wonder than of guilt. Most of the time at an event I found myself busy struggling with a camera, trying to find the perfect angle rather than enjoying the experience. Now its all about the experience. Maybe I'll take pictures, maybe I won't but I have definitely stopped beating myself up about it.

I came back home today and these were waiting for me!



These were won in a goodreads giveaway contest, actually the giveaway was for only one book but the nice people at Sandra Brown's sent me two. I am not sure if I am going to read these but just getting free books in mail brightens up my day.