The Little Prince and his sunsets

All day I have been thinking about the Little Prince and what he said about sunsets. Here's the passage:

But on your tiny little planet, all you needed to do was to move your chair a few steps. And you could watch the twilight falling whenever you felt like it.
"One day, I watched the sun setting forty-four times," you told me. And a little later you added: "You know... when one is so terribly sad, one loves sunsets..."
"The day you watched those forty-four sunsets, were you that sad?" I asked.
But the little prince made no reply.

Breaks my heart, the melancholy in those lines.

New in town

It has now been two and a half months since we moved here. It is so different when you wander about a place as a tourist and when you actually live there. Last year, on the four-day vacation, I found the city too tended-to, too protected, too manicured. That opinion hasn't changed. But I didn't need much time in understanding why people love it here.

I mailed home thus about my first impressions of the city:

On the face of it, this city has everything to be loved. Plenty of trees, a climate that makes rain on a daily basis, public transport that works like a dream. But there is still something... probably the unrealness of it all. The trees are tamed, they stand in a line. Everywhere. Much like the people who queue up for everything. The quietness of the impeccable parks. The lights in the night. The glitz and richness in everything around. Even the rain seems to follow a certain discipline and decorum.
But that said, there is the other side of the coin. Everything works like clockwork, you don't have to fight your way out everyday in buses or trains or supermarket queues, clean broad footpaths, trees everywhere.
I compare it to the many food courts here. Brightly lit, glass counters, large colourful displays and photographs, white plates, tables chairs and floors. Clean and sparkly at first sight. But invariably, under the table is grime of leftover food squashed into a paste, makes you pull your feet up in horror. The city is also sure to have that underbelly. Just that it is well hidden. 

Recently, there was a night festival in town, only on weekends, going from 7 pm to 2 am. I took the child and went, and we wandered happily among the crowds, looking at performances, installations and lights. We were out till nearly 10, and then took a train and a bus back home. Without once feeling threatened, without having to be wary, without being worried. It was surreal, especially since the mind had been buzzing with the latest gang-rape news from home -- a young photojournalist in an abandoned mill in Mumbai where she had gone with her male colleague for an assignment, where the guy got tied by a belt and the girl was forced down by five men with a broken bottle, at 6 in the evening.

Another new one

It has been three years since I last blogged. And I never really thought I would try blogging again. In fact, I thought the very concept of blogs would be dead by now.

But recently, I have felt this need to share -- not in the way that one shares on FB, but to a way smaller audience. In fact, no audience at all would be superb.

So why blog, why not just write? See, sometimes I want to just put down a link, a song, maybe a  story I read online, because that may be what is currently taking up all mindspace. Something I get stuck on for days or hours. These are not things I want to share with all my 444 friends on FB. But I sure do want to keep a record of it somewhere.

Maybe blogs do still have a purpose, huh.

Anyway, in the last one year, I moved from Bangalore to Kochi and then to Singapore. I now regret that I did not put on record my rediscovery of my hometown. The difference between the city I grew up in and the city I came back to. Now, I don't want to regret having not recorded my discovery of this new city I am in.
Anyway, I don't know how long this new burst of blogging energy will last, but there will be at least a couple of posts :)