Friday, February 04, 2005


Over a birthday dinner of sorts over tandoori chicken and sweet lassi, we savoured the cold, sweet night air.

There was never a laspe in conversation, and we talked endlessly about everything. Photos, people, books, poems, communism, westerners, imperialism, bengali culture, the paths which led us to be what we were that night.

I don't know which moment I enjoyed more. It could be when Rajiv introduced his favourite book as Marquez's Hundred Years of Solitude just before I was going to recomment him to read Marquez's Love in the time of Cholera.

Or it could be during the "Name your Favourite Poet" round when Lars burst out laughing because I said William Blake was my favourite poet, as I had just taken the words out of his mouth.

It could also be what Lars said to me when we were on the rickshaw on the way back, when all of us were so cold no number of shawls could shield us from the wind.

"You're brilliant."

"Thanks, you're the first to use that word on me."

"Really? I can't imagine why."

Happy Birthday Lars, don't be so sad that your girlfriend isn't here with you.

I could literally feel my brain expanding, it's so new to have such conversations with people who are from a completely different background for you.

Isn't it amusing? Yellow, brown, white. Norsk, Mandarin, Bengali. From three countries, and we can still find specific, detailed similarities.

And it's not because we were forced to work together as a group. I think if there were no fixed grouping, the three of us would have eventually drifted to each other anyway.

I knowt his entry is almost disgustingly self indulgent... I just haven't experienced something like this before, and I have to record it in some way or another.

"He repeated until his dying day that there was no one with more common sense, no stonecutter more obstinate, no manager more lucid or dangerous, than a poet."


JC said...

Man, I think I understand just how you feel... I crave these exchanges. It's all the meaning and validation my existence desires.