Unconditional Love

When I was growing up, it was kind of drilled into me that I shouldn't disturb grown-ups when they are doing something important. In particular, my dad didn't like being disturbed when he was in the middle of something. Now that I'm a grown-up myself, I try to be more flexible. But my grandma is on a different level. 

A couple of years ago, she was knitting in our living-room. I walked in, saying something to her – something quite inconsequential – without realising that she was in the middle of counting stitches. I would have at least finished counting the row before replying, but she immediately looked up from her knitting and replied to me. When our brief conversation was over, she calmly started to count again from the beginning.

This is the level of zen that I aspire to.

* * *

A recent phone conversation with my grandma, about my next visit to India:

Grandma:	বাড়ি কবে আসছো? (When are you coming home?)
me:	৬ তারিখ! (6th December!)
Grandma:	হ্যাঁ, তোমার মা বলছিল... (Yes, your mum was telling me...)
me:	তাহলে আবার আমাকে জিজ্ঞেস করছো কেন? নিজের মেয়েকে বিশ্বাস করো না? (Then why are you asking me? You don't believe your own daughter?)

I sometimes tease her like this, and she laughs or teases back. But this time she gave a straight reply, which hit me in the feels.

Grandma:

হ্যাঁ, বিশ্বাস করি। কিন্তু আবার শুনতে ভালো লাগে। (Yes, I believe her. But it's nice to hear it again.)

The Cooling

Three "quotes" about cold from three different works of art (three different art forms, in fact).

* * *

From One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn:

The signal for the roll call was barely audible through the double-paned, frost-blurred windows. Shukhov heaved a sigh and stood up. He still had that feverish chill but evidently he wouldn't be able to skip work.

Vdovushkin reached for the thermometer and read it.

"H'm, neither one thing nor the other. Ninety-nine point two. If it had been a hundred it would have been clear to anyone. I can't exempt you. Stay behind at your own risk, if you like. The doctor will examine you. If he considers you're ill, he'll exempt you. If he finds you fit, he won't. Then you'll be locked up. You'd better go back to work."

Shukhov said nothing. He didn't even nod. Pulling his hat over his eyes, he walked out.

How can you expect a man who's warm to understand a man who's cold?

I read this book when I was in college, and that last line was one of several that I copied into my notebook. For this post, I was going to quote just that one line, before I realised that without context, it was liable to be misunderstood; 'warm' and 'cold' could also mean warm-hearted and cold-hearted. But here, of course, the 'warm' person is the less sensitive – Vdovushkin in his comfortable office – while Shukhov labours outdoors in the Siberian winter.

* * *

Ice Blocks on the Wazee Lake, a photography by Alessandra Sanguinetti from her Some Say Ice series.

* * *

From The Cooling, a weird and wonderful song by Reina del Cid:

It's the cooling that scares you the most.

Late Night Conversations