"'Rome wasn't built in one day' is a saying in English," she said loudly, pronouncing each word with emphatic nonchalance. "It means that it takes a lotttttt of patience, persistence, determination..." she paused for words, "...focus...conviction...to achieve something...you should give things, time".
"Mama, Rome is the capital of Italy na?" she quizzed. Images supercede imagination. Concepts, afterall, are products of logical imagination accepted by all. So it is thinking thats commonplace. But images are static descriptions that can be viewed differently. Sky, for example. You see it blue, light, tinted, pleasant, bright in the morning. I see it dark, black, but beautiful in its shining, starry, sparkling self. Sky, between night and day. Image, between you and me.
"Correct, darling," she answered, delighted. Memory during tender ages is a pleasant thing.
"So there are wooden tables there na Mama...by the streets...clean and sparkling...yellow flowers...fresh greens..." she quipped, eyes wide open. "And people dress up really nicely in Italy."
She was surprised. Perhaps, more curious than surprised. Television! Must Be! That's fine. "What else do they do?" she smiled, cleaning remains of food from her mouth.
"They talk fast fast Mama. Many many girls and boys. They don't stay apart like in school. They sit together like besttttt friends holding hands. All happy happy." She sat straight. "When your happy and you know clap your hands...clap clap clap...I like going to Rome...its my favvvvvvourite place."
Hallucinations? Images supercede imagination?
"We're in India, kan, you havent gone to Rome, sweetheart..."
"We went there last Sunday, I played with the cheese plate..."
Huh?
"I dipped onions in red chutney...and you had wine..."
She picked her up and washed her tiny palms. "Little Italy" she smiled, as she carried her into the room.
"But those are biiiiiiiig girls and boys ok. They have finished school...and finished college...like Mama and Papa no...." she began, as voices disappeared between time and space...and age!
PS - Main keh raha hoon kya, tu sun rahi hai kya, tu sun rahi hai kya, main keh raha hoon kya!
"Mama, Rome is the capital of Italy na?" she quizzed. Images supercede imagination. Concepts, afterall, are products of logical imagination accepted by all. So it is thinking thats commonplace. But images are static descriptions that can be viewed differently. Sky, for example. You see it blue, light, tinted, pleasant, bright in the morning. I see it dark, black, but beautiful in its shining, starry, sparkling self. Sky, between night and day. Image, between you and me.
"Correct, darling," she answered, delighted. Memory during tender ages is a pleasant thing.
"So there are wooden tables there na Mama...by the streets...clean and sparkling...yellow flowers...fresh greens..." she quipped, eyes wide open. "And people dress up really nicely in Italy."
She was surprised. Perhaps, more curious than surprised. Television! Must Be! That's fine. "What else do they do?" she smiled, cleaning remains of food from her mouth.
"They talk fast fast Mama. Many many girls and boys. They don't stay apart like in school. They sit together like besttttt friends holding hands. All happy happy." She sat straight. "When your happy and you know clap your hands...clap clap clap...I like going to Rome...its my favvvvvvourite place."
Hallucinations? Images supercede imagination?
"We're in India, kan, you havent gone to Rome, sweetheart..."
"We went there last Sunday, I played with the cheese plate..."
Huh?
"I dipped onions in red chutney...and you had wine..."
She picked her up and washed her tiny palms. "Little Italy" she smiled, as she carried her into the room.
"But those are biiiiiiiig girls and boys ok. They have finished school...and finished college...like Mama and Papa no...." she began, as voices disappeared between time and space...and age!
PS - Main keh raha hoon kya, tu sun rahi hai kya, tu sun rahi hai kya, main keh raha hoon kya!
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