There must be a deep-boned tiredness that comes from working the field all day. Maybe that is what Gandhi wanted us to believe in. The soil under ones nail, the muscles stretched raw; a mind wiped clean. I haven't the faintest. As a child, I went many a times with my Dadaji or my Chachji to our patch of land. I loved the bael gari [cow-cart] and the lunch by the TubeWell. I especially loved my uncles tales of fighting off bears and churails [or puchal paerey as they say in Punjab]. But, I was just a visitor. Clad in me Jordache jeans, no doubt [holy shit, they still exist]. I think wistfully of all that and the feeling that a farmer must get because I toiled in the digital farm all day. It just doesn't hold the same satisfaction [or so I infer]. And the week stretches ahead of me. There is a 'review' due tomorrow. If the editor is reading this post, she is duly informed that it ain't happening before friday. So there. My cold is not giving up without a fight.
In related news, Seymour Hersh tells us about Bush's manifest destiny in this week's NYer. If I get to it, I will post more on it tomorrow.
wistfully, as i recollect my own adventures with my father and uncles, in farms all over southern Karnataka (unlike sepoy, i actually worked in the fields and even drove the bullock cart), i must admit there is something elevating about being bone tired after a day's work in the fields. a day in the dusty stacks of the reg or even clerical labor in a digital lab (field) just doesn't cut it. so sepoy, illinois has much farm land and you could get the hell out of HP. don't give up your day job yet but being a weekend farmer ain't so bad.
do we have to look at the fields with such nostalgia? isn't waiting at the b'lore traffic signals after a tiring day at college in any way elevating? all the traffic signals become my resting spots and contemplating centres about people who keep fiddling with their cells in chauffeur driven cars. that's where we live; why not accept it?