Nothing left to talk

How things change and people move away, and how relationships change from being able to say the most random things and useless gyan for hours to formal hi(s) and whats up in life things. The normal nature of life, yes; but sometimes hits you just that little bit harder.

Priorities

Two conversations, overheard outside the Mess, sometime around midnight.

Scene 1
"I think generally the quality is lower in litigation than at corp. jobs."
" Not necessarily."
And then a bit of London, Luthra, jobs etc.

Scene 2
"If you have the light sabre, you do need the force."
"True, true" And the nodding of head in affirmation.

Strange, the different types of conversations, one gets to listen to at Law School, perhaps different people, differing priorities.

On Chesil Beach

Ian McEwan's "On Chesil Beach" is definitely a very well written book, in fact on my scale of 1-10, with 10 being the highest, it deserves at least a 9. It is simple, yet effective, uncluttered by a maze of complex characters, it has its own complexities and subtle meaning.

Set in the early 1960s, it shows the wedding night of Edward and Florence, who come from quite different backgrounds and have met quite by chance. However, their courtship has been a restrained one, and Edward has been waiting, restraining himself for this very night. What he does not know is that Florence has an abhorrence towards sex, a feeling that she cannot describe, yet that she cannot completely escape from.

McEwan takes us through the two characters. Edward is a historian whereas Florence is a violinist, and she is at ease with her music, rather than the outside world. They have differing backgrounds and Edward is accepted into Florence's wealthy family and is offered a job by his father in law.

The setting is Chesil Beach where the couple have gone for their honeymoon. there is a strain and both of them proceed slowly. There is caution and confusion. Florence, tries to continue on, to give in to the man she loves otherwise and very deeply so. However, things do not work out as planned, and she runs away to the beach, disgusted by his excited premature ejaculation, over her body.

Unknown to her, Edward is a virgin too. As Edward contemplates, he feels rage overpowering him and insult, moving back to times where he enjoyed fights as a country boy, long before he moved into 'cultured' company. He follows her to the beach, where after venting some pent up rage, Florence proposes to live together but freely. Edward is disgusted with this and lets her go back.

The story then moves fast forward, where they divorce and Florence becomes a famous musician. Edward on the other hand has a failed marriage, and forgets all about his early yearnings to write about mystical cults in history. he has heard of her fame, but he does not look her up, instead preser ving his memories of her, as he knew her and as he loved her.

McEwan shows how it was patience that Florence asked of Edward and how she had never loved him more than when she left him and if he had but spoken, she would have stayed. How things would have been different. To quote McEwan himself, "All she had needed was the certainty of his love, and his reassurance that there was no hurry when a lifetime lay ahead of them. Love and patience - if only he had had them both at once - would surely have seen them both through."

Awesome writing!!!

Governance in Nepal

As usual, nobody stticks to a decision in Nepal. The government makes a decision (despite opposition), only to see more opposition and PILs filed, and retracts to the original position. A loss of time and face.
Bad governance.

http://www.myrepublica.com/portal/index.php?action=news_details&news_id=17351

When we were young

Once we were young too,
And the skies looked new
Nothing seemed far,
Problems few.
Once we were young too,
Raring to go
Nothing to stop us,
Idealistic so.

Oh when we were young
Such ideas we had
And belief we held
In a world so mad

Seasons changed
Perhaps we were still young then
Did the vista look different?
Ideals still intact
Detached however
Unprepared we seemed
Suddenly
Caught out unawares
By the ugly one
Rearing, Feeding
Just inside
Making it known
Of a new ride

Of a ride so high
That ideals just tumbled by
Flew by, shredded to pieces
Bother to collect?
And sigh
Of a youth gone by
When ideals were high
And desperation nigh
No, not yet
No Stopping by

Once we were young too
Tinted visions
Sunny skies?
A collective rise?
An echo unheard
Yet a painful sigh
Bother to wait and collect
Perhaps reflect
In this maddening world
Of a time
When we were young?