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Somewhere between gratitude and greed

December 22, 2010

Now I am forgetting to attend important meetings at work. Like just not show up. It is embarrassing when my boss asks me what happened.

Fucking my brains revolted. That’s what happened. They have idled so long that they might have run out of steam.

And to add injury to these amnesia patches, today when I was organizing my bookshelf, I discover a Spanish poetry book.

When did I buy that? I have no idea.

If it was in French, I would still understand. The purchase, not the language that is. My fascination with French is unrelenting.

But the point is, I have now started buying books in languages I don’t know and I can’t even recollect making a purchase. Has the life come to sleep buying now?

In another sad news, I had to strike off five items from my Christmas wishlist. They were all books. I realized I had so many unread books on the shelf…books that have been there since aeons. I may never end up reading these…

  1. The great Indian novel
  2. The Calcutta chromosome
  3. Farewell my lovely
  4. The wish maker
  5.  The lost flamingoes of Bombay
  6.  The mousetrap and other plays
  7.  On human bondage
  8.  Maps for lost lovers
  9.  Bob Dylan’s chronicles
  10.  John Lennon’s biography

Guilt.

While the most capitalist nation on planet easily morphs from gratitude into greed (yes. USA.)… in some other part of the world, in a different nation, a girl feels burdened by the fact that she has too much to read. And also that she can read.

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