Excursions

Wow, there has been a deluge of Hello messages written to the “world” today. The world must be feeling overwhelmed, wondering what ruffled us earthlings today 😬

Hello Friend,

It’s been a while since I published the last issue. For me, neither 2020 signed off on a high note nor 2021 started with a blast. The many unwanted bumps through the challenging past three months forced me to push the reset across my projects.

Anyway, I plan to revive this newsletter, and I intend to call this an unrelated sequel to the original run. The first volume was about and for the writers, whereas I target a slightly wider audience with this reincarnation.

Each new volume of anything generally diverges on the theme; this one is no different. I’ve covered all the aspects I’d planned for the first volume of this newsletter, the one I had tagged as “a writer’s toolkit”. It is disrespectful on my part then to publish something that does not excite me - it cannot be engaging for you, the reader.

What changes can you expect, then?

Well, the soul stays the same. It’s the content and the context that changes. Each issue will still feature three fantastic works of writing, but I won’t restrict them to be only about and around writing. They will be curious at most times. At times, they will be profound. But engrossing they will be every single time.

With that said, here are the three featured writings for this week.

"Advice to Youth" by Mark Twain →

Always obey your parents, when they are present. This is the best policy in the long run, because if you dont, they will make you. Most parents think they know better than you do, and you can generally make more by humoring that superstition than you can by acting on your own better judgment.

"Joy" by Zadie Smith →

“You’re being the dog,” our child said recently, surprising us. She is almost three and all our private languages are losing their privacy and becoming known to her. Of course, we knew she would eventually become fully conscious, and that before this happened we would have to give up arguing, smoking, eating meat, using the Internet, talking about other people’s faces, and voicing the dog, but now the time has come, she is fully aware, and we find ourselves unable to change. “Stop being the dog,” she said,“it’s very silly,” and for the first time in eight years we looked at the dog and were ashamed.

"Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Roger Ebert →

“Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end of it all, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this, and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.

Postscript

Have any recommendations or feedback for me? I’d love to hear from you. Just hit reply, or you can even email me.

Thank you for reading and sharing.

-Amit

It happened again as I was on my morning walk today, passing through the familiar lanes. I have become habitual to communicate mutely, through smiles, with the folks I have acquainted with over such daily walks.

That uncle who ambles but never forgets to straighten up somewhat every time he sees me. That guy jogging with his headphones on yet makes a point to slow down to acknowledge my presence.

And I connect with many such folks (who I know I don't "know") daily for months and years now. Or at least I try to.

You see, it was easy to do that when we weren't living our life through this dreaded pandemic. When masking the major part of our face wasn't necessary. When we could spread our lips in a smile at someone, and say so much unsaid.

I am struggling to do that these days. I do smile, but I am not confident that the feeling touches the person. Or he or she reciprocates it.

I have heard our eyes convey our feelings. Convey if we are smiling a happy smile. Or are discomfited. Or are pained. For that matter, they unveil even if we are unaffected, disinterested.

But how am I to know for sure if mine did? Or even if the eyes did, my "friend" could sense it? The whole situation is unfortunate. We were thrown blind into this pit without being armed with the proper knowledge to live through such limiting lives.

With our masks always on, we now have put our eyes under undue expectations.

Me, Reading →

No! How can this be?! I’ve read only fifty-two per cent of this damn book?

No! How can this be?! That’s exactly me, reading.

Is there a threshold of word count that when hit, and only then, an essay or a book will be considered notable? Or what is communicated be taken seriously? If not, why do I see authors unnecessary lengthening the prose?

Come to the point, make it with conviction and sign off.

Just a few pages in and I was excited to read Factfulness by Hans Rosling. Given the times we are living in today, whoever claims that “the world, for all its imperfections, is in a much better state than we might think” has my attention.

March is yet to begin and the Summer’s already here. The room coolers are out. The earthen pots that store the water are out. And watermelon is in the home! AC, fridge and icecreams don’t bring the same joy to me.

Anyway it’s close to 🍉‘o clock 😁

I finished reading Endless Night by Agatha Christie and am not at all impressed. This review might contain spoilers, but I can’t help I have to rant.

Nah, I am not letting the ending influence the overall rating for the book again. It is easy to get wowed by the intelligent ending and rate this book highly. But it wasn’t a good read for me.

Right from the start, I didn’t trust the narrator. I guess I’ve been fooled by many first-person narrations for my liking. Michael is a poor narrator - not sure if it was intentional on Christie’s part. None of his actions, his reactions made sense to me, further heightening my suspicions about what I was being told by him. So the twist towards the end fell flat - it was as if I already knew deep down and was just waiting for it to be revealed.

Oh, and I was waiting a lot of time throughout the book. 2/3rds in and there is hardly anything that takes place. To me, the love story between Mike and Ellie was not interesting. The way it played out was dull. It got tiring at one point to read Mike tell what was happening. The suspense around Gipsy’s Acre wasn’t built at all. It was supposed to be a “gothic story with gypsy’s warnings” - wasn’t the case.

This may have been a brilliant psychological thriller for its time. But a lot has happened since 1967 and too many have been inspired by the style of surpriseful narration from this mystery master for this style to create the necessary impression anymore. This read was so unlike any other from Agatha Christie and this time it is not in positive sense.

I have a pretty common first name (or given name as it is called at some places). It’s so common that even the movie characters with my name have rarely had any significant part to play. I believed my surname was uncommon, making the combination unique. But I was wrong with my assumption – boy there are so many Amit Gawande’s out there on Facebook, the “universal phonebook”. Yo namesake morons, why are you still using that app?

The names from European countries always fascinate me ¹. Every name sounds so unique. And has such a complex tone to it – it’s new every time I hear it. And if I think I’ve already heard it, they adorn the spelling with an extra “z”. Fantastic!

Having a common first name sucks. Having it end with an equally common surname sucks more. Good luck getting high up the search results list ². I dread creating my account on any new service that is launched. I rarely get a username with just my first name – there is already a developer building that bloody service. With surname? Nah. With the first letter of surname? Nah. With a number or underscore in there? Yep, that’s what you get.

That also the reason why I respect the service where I could get that username with just my first name. Uhm!

Of course, if your aim in life is just to get lost in the crowd, be not know or just be, have a common name. But who wants that? Right? RIGHT?

Why is it that it's only the Mac, iPhone, or iPad apps that work well with the Indieweb principles? Say, for example, integrating well through a micropub endpoint? Are all Indieweb app developers in the Apple ecosystem?