on clocks and inspiration

the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless ones. take diamonds, for example or rainbows.

by the same count, if the measure of true beauty is utter and total uselessness, then i have something that should be a joy forever. the lovely clock that i won as a giveaway on all the purchases i made at the annual scholastic book fair at school is refusing to either tick or toc. it has a second-hand that is refreshingly original - it moves anti-clockwise. its other two hands are truly worthy of greeting a teacher's bleary morning-eye. they move at a sedate and dignified pace in any direction they like.

all this is hugely inspiring.
every morning, in the midst of the daily race against time, made more exciting these days after the arrival of The Clock With an Attitude, i find lots of inspiration. yesterday i got inspired to be radical and swim against the tide, and today the inspiration to be sedate and dignified dawned on me. for tomorrow, i am already inspired to fill every minute with sixty seconds of distance run.

totally plebian people like my mom fail to grasp the import of the revolution taking place in my room every morning right before my bus is about to arrive. if gobbling an egg, downing a mug of milk, combing a lot of hair and wearing glasses in five mintues is not proof of my increased state of enlightenment, what is?

the beauties in my stable

 

rushing down the stairs, i am met by a little salesman in company of a littler salesman, with a shared load of balloons, plastic toys and whistles.

both of them had abandoned their wares and were busy trying not to fall off from all the tip-toeing needed to ring the bell of the downstairs flat.

ever a sucker for wind-up toys and plastic vehicles, i spot these minuscule beauties among their stuff. it took a little persuasion to get the little salesmen to abandon the bell-ringing for some cut-throat commerce.


whatever they were expecting, it cannot have been a customer. after regarding me silently for a while, the elder businessman decided to clarify matters.
"you want this bike?"
"yes."
"you want to buy this?"
"yes, please. may i?"
"you want to give us money for this?"
"yes."
"and then you want to take the bike?"
"yes."

this was greeted in some silence. then, to the littler partner. "what should we take from her, fifteen rupees or ten rupees?"
"ten" came the decisive solution to the problem.


the exchange of the note was done in solemnity. both of them immediately lost all interest in me, and turned back to their previous occupation of trying to ring the doorbell stubbornly out of reach, and i was left to pick any one that i liked.

on my way back, there they were still.
i offered to buy one more bike.


"you want another one?"
"yes."

glances were exchanged.

the littler one this time;


"you want to give back the red one and take a green one?"
"no. i want to buy one more. a green one this time."

"you want to give us ten more rupees and take another one?"
"yes."

after the mandatory silent examination, they took the money and then ran up and down the stairs whooping, only stopping for a while to grab the apples that i offered.


and that is how the Red Bike and the Green Bike came to dwell on my bookshelf.


i wonder what the parents might have said to the enterprising salesmen on their return home. i keep thinking how kids as little as these two got sent out. i spend time exercising my considerable imagination on dire possibilities - a mother ill at home? i am wracked by guilt. i ought to have paid more.

poster art

while hunting for old propaganda posters, i came across these lovely vintage travel posters.


great use of colour on the hawaii poster. the new york one is pure sophistication. i like the smart persuasion of the delta air poster for atlanta.





totally beautiful. would look great on a wall. not so great as a poster, though. what are people to think?

lovely colour and juxtaposition. an eye-catcher. these games went on to be called the 'austerity games', a nod to the privations and rationing of the post-war years.

a commercial poster. lovely use of colour and an unusual perspective. the work of an artist. the foot sticking out is a nice touch.

ww-2 propaganda poster focusing on the anglo-american alliance. rather direct, with hitler and goebbels lurking with evil intentions in the background - diminished figures compared to the robust allies on the foreground.

che always makes for great graphics. such an iconic picture. what a charismatic man. what could he have been thinking of, to have prompted that far off gaze? certainly not being emblazzoned on t-shirts and coffee mugs, at any rate.

mis(s) amores

the paper heartlessly informs me that george clooney visited Sudan on a peace mission.
someone inform mr.clooney that Sudan is not the only place on the face of the earth with any noticeable lack of peace. he can look a little more eastwards. to be precise, right here. i lack peace right now. i can do with a visit from clooney.

why must all my love stories be so hopelessly one-sided?
a careful and objective look at my life so far tells me something fearful - it is a long saga of impossible romantic tangles. kindergarten playground up to a few weeks ago. either they love me and i don't or i love them and they don't. no double-coincidence of wants, here. salman khan (loving whom was tricky country, because a bosom buddy loved him too) and ricky martin (who i famously wrote a love poem to, and vowed to marry and who even more famously turned out to be gay) and now, clooney (who so cavalierly ignores my existance) cases in point.

the only love i have had satisfactorily returned is of the little worm-toothed bus parther, who faithfully keeps a seat for me, and everyday shares his biscuits with me.

 

small vehicles of joy. 

a little death