quotes from God of Small Things

"We can't go in (to the History House) because we've been locked out. And when we look in through the windows, all we see are shadows. And when we try and listen, all we hear is a whispering. And we cannot understand the whispering because our minds have been invaded by a war. A war that we have and lost. The very worst sort of war. A war that captures dreams and re-dreams them. A war that has made us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves."

"In the War of Dreams, ... We are prisoners of War. Our drams have been doctored. We belong nowhere. We sail unanchored on troubled seas. We may never be allowed ashore. Our sorrows will never be sad enough. Our joys never happy enough. Our dreams never big enough. Our lives never important enough. To matter."

"..learned how history negotiates its terms and collects its dues from those who  break its laws."

"would watch with dinner-plate eyes as history revealed itself to them in the back verandah".

"emptiness in one twin was only a version of the quietness in the other"

"love laws, that lay down who should be loved, and how. and how much."
"To love by night the man her children loved by day"

what is worse for me is that now I actually understand how transgressive that love was, how despicable and desperate it was. I have class consciousness in me now, that I never had as a child
I can sympathise with the villains now, and look with disdain at people who pretend there is a possibility in these things - hypocrites I call them, blind to their own prejudices. at the love between a jamindar princess and a touring drama actor and dismiss it as a relationship with no possible future. 

I worry at this change in myself
first time I read it, I was utterly horrified at the caste unfairness of it all in the book. indignant, found it baffling and preposterous. now... I understand a bit more! that understanding makes me ... sad. terribly sad. is that what growing up means. to grow up into and accept prejudices. to smile with understanding at a child's indignance, but scorn another adult's similar reaction. 
Akshaya asked me why do you want to eat the goat aatha. that question. what a question. 


"When you recreate the image of man, why repeat God's mistakes?"

His Love. His Madness. His Hope. His Infinite Joy.

Chako's infinite joy was in his daughter and ex wife's return.
Ammu's was in Velutha
Estha and Rahel was in Ammu and each other

all of the above destroyed in one night.

our words have power. power to hurt, ,

"Chako had disappeared and left a monster in his place"

A spoiled puff. with beige pointy shoes
A fountain in a Love in Tokyo
A brown autumn leaf on the back. that made the monsoons come on time.

"The God of Small Things. He left no footprints in the sand, no ripples in water, no image in mirrors."

"It is after all, so easy to shatter a story. To break a chain of thought. to ruin a fragmnet of a dream being carried around carefully like a piece of porcelain. To let it be, to travel with it is much the harder thing to do."

I find myself wondering how the kids could be so familiar with the paralysed man. my horror rises up to block it for me. I wouldn't be happy with my kids playing like that being so familiar with a poor man's hut. I would worry about diseases, uncleanliness. these things trouble me.

"there was only one victim. And he had blood-red nails and a brown leaf on his back that made the monsoons come on time. He left behind a hole in the Universe through which darkness poured like liquid tar. Through which their mother followed without even turning to wave goodbye. She left them behind. spinning in the dark, with no moorings, in a place with no foundation."

her writing is poetry. 

4 word saddest story

And then she left.

Vagaries of jealousies

Watching
the hobnobbing
Gets it going

she sits next to me
legs like so much meat
tiny shorts all the rage

fashion comes
fashion goes
hope this goes real quick

what is dignity and respect for women?
to cover all
or bare all?

I suppose, respecting her right to do either or neither

but do they do these
because they want to
or because they think others like to see them that way

or are these ideas so entwined
that we dress for others to see because that is what we want too?
and,... is attracting a mate our sole purpose
the natural way

the mind fighting the instinct to be content with attracting and reproducing

The dung beetle the golden beetle and the centipede.

Summary :
Three beetles. Good friends. Decide to collect food together ahead of the upcoming monsoon. Centipede goes for grass on his 100 feet. Golden beetle goes flowers on his golden wings. Dung beetle gather dung to make a strong fortress.

All head out.
But monsoon strikes earlier than expected.  All three stranded. One I  the grass. I in  the tress. One in a shallow pit.

Along comes a scarlet macaw.  Strong red wings flying in the rain.  Hears a sobbing sound in the grass. Swoops down to investigate.  Finds centi crying.
What's up? Why add to the rain??
Centi explains . Friends mat be missing her. Stuck here. Macaw offers him a lift back to safety.
Centi's 100 legs tickle macaw terribly but the get there - In  a hollow in a tree. Then heads off again to some trees. Hears the sob. Investigates . Finds TBD golden beetle. Sane sad story.  Wait a min ..is your friend the centi? Yes. Takes her to join centi.  Golden beetle 's sharp  stinging a little.  Tired bird flies off again.  Comes to pit. Swoops down for fruit.  Hears sobs. Meets dung beetle.  Ee eeew.  The stink!  Dung beetle missing friends.  Wait a sec! Are your friends the  centi and golden beetle,  yup. How  many of you friends are there??? Just the three. On hop on  back. But no stinky dung! Friends reunite. Macaw exhausted.  Friends gather fruit and make a bed for their friend.  The end

writing every day

writing every day is really really good
so here goes

prompt 73 from a kids writing book

Nah, found one for adults online:

Breaking Up With Writer’s Block It’s time for you and Writer’s Block to part ways. Write a letter breaking up with Writer’s Block, starting out with, “Dear Writer’s Block, it’s not you, it’s me …”

______

Dear Writer's Block,

It's not you. It's me. it always is. easiest to start with me and work my way round.
can't change the world, can only change me
so here's the start
to write, one has to start./
been saying this for a few years now and finally got it going
wrote every day in April.
Now going to write every day for two weeks.
to prompts.
gotta start somewhere
the way I keep repeating this, I get the feeling I don't think its that cool to write to prompts.
I get the feeling I'm thinking this is a bit lame but am accepting I gotta start somewhere
no more brow beating
no more saying I ain't good enough
some of the stuff I write is good
some is crap
that's the way of life
so here goes

Dear you
I'm not sorry to see you go
I hope I never see you again
ciao