So we stood there for a few moments, me, Sat and Maj looking around the place and at each other. Then slowly, a mischievous grin appeared on Maj's face which infected me and Sat. We all grinned, knowing perfectly well what was in others' mind. Another test, another challenge, another opportunity to prove ourselves. With that grinning look we walked separate ways, ready to make our bones and crack the nut. There was an auction going on where 'people' were sold and we had to join it. Sat got picked by a landlord, Maj by a trader and I was picked by a chef called Rudy. A chef! I had to understand a warrior's story working with a chef? I glanced at Rudy as we were making our way back to the restaurant where I'd be working. Rudy was a short, thickset man with a professional face and a very matured attitude. I instantly liked him. The restaurant was quite near the railway station and was a very busy place. 'How are the guys in the restaurant?? Are they nice?' I asked. Rudy walked on as if he hadn't heard anything. I repeated my question in a louder tone. Rudy looked at me sideways and said 'They are hard working' and carried on.
Very true, as I found out. We started at 5am everyday and closed at 11pm. It was back-breaking work. I had to do all sorts of chores - clean bins, cut vegetables and meat, wash dishes, sweep floors, do home deliveries, serve tables. I cut my finger a couple of times, got blisters, almost fainted once but kept going. The evening hours were very taxing especially and my legs would beg for some rest but none of my co-workers complained or talked much, so I just kept working. Everyday, there was work, and work, and then more work. I was slogging like a slave. But after working 18 hours everyday, the six hour sleep would be a sensational period of bliss. And I was so thankful when I ate my meals during the day that sometimes I'd be moved to tears. No gossips, no unnecessary words, it was just clean hard work, minimum food and sleep. Six months passed thus. I went back to the train and was asked for my answer. I talked for two minutes on how I'd learnt the value of hard work and not giving up. The door never opened. Cursing the train, I returned to the restaurant, but to my surprise, I wasn't sad. Now, I kinda liked this life. There wasn't much time to think or worry and we were very fit and that gave us a vitality that I hadn't experienced before. Everyone worked well and took pride in his work. There was an untold competition going on. Any bad work or complaint was a sign of weakness and consistent good work earned respect. I later learnt that this restaurant was considered the best one in the village and that Rudy had previously been a lawyer. Sometimes when we got orders for parties and weddings, Rudy's mom, aged 80, would come and help us out. I was amazed at the kind of toughness these people had and the way they never spoke much.
As days rolled by, I got used to the work and it seemed much easier now. And the guys were indeed nice and had a rocking sense of humour. They rarely talked but their eyes danced. They were also film buffs and had these interesting nick names for everyone. Rudy was called Mr.Stevens after the character in the film 'The remains of the day', the guy in the counter was called 'main man ray' from the movie 'Rain Man' and I was called 'the kid' from the movie 'The quick and the dead'. Thus life moved on, we were busy during weekdays and during weekends we watched movies over and over and over. And after a year of this I was quite efficient at what I did and also bored a bit. Now that I'd learnt things, my work became mechanical. I felt I had passed my task but didn't know whether to return to the train or settle down in this job and village. I liked my work and the people. To state the truth, I didn't want to go to another place and start struggling all over again. The thought of facing a fresh series of hardships scared me. But another part of me yearned for the sense of success and euphoria that comes every time I finish a task and board the train. I knew I wanted to accomplish many more things in my life. But that means getting out of my comfort zone. And that is a god-damn difficult thing to do. 'I can't let fear triumph over hope and live with myself', I thought, and convinced myself to make my way back to the train. I pressed the green button which opens the doors. And I was asked for my answer.
It's the right way of doing things, the answer,
Struggle first and enjoy later,
Just like the stone dropped from a hill does,
Work hard, overcome odds and live thus,
time keeps rolling and for anyone stops not,
so will you with time get better and will be a stone no more but a juggernaut.
And the beep sounded and the door opened, as I knew it would. But to my disappointment, I couldn't find Maj or Sat there. They must have been on the earlier train or must still be figuring their answer out. I never realised that these two people meant so much to me. The disappointment I felt at not finding them was more than the delight of getting into the train.
But the train moved on. After a few hours of sleep I woke up and found that the train had better seats, served lovely food and played lovely music. I deserve this, I said to myself, after all the work I did to get here. That cheered me up a little and I listened to a conversation among passengers on past tasks. I didn't participate in it but listened with interest. I guess the restaurant taught me not to waste my words. I realised that I had changed a lot. After a while I laid back and listened to the songs being played. There was only one playlist being played over and over - I heard 'nothing else matters' by Metallica and Coldplay's 'viva la vida' for 'n' number of times. Night came and with it dinner. 'And nothing else matters' sang Hetfield. Time passed and the train became silent. I could hear the mild tone of Viva la Vida as i dozed off into sleep - 'Now I sleep alone, sweep the streets I used to own'...... And then came sunshine and it was still Viva la Vida - 'I hear jerusalem bells are ringing, roman cavalry choirs are singing, be my mirror, my sword and shield, missionaries in a foreign field'.... I glanced around to see everyone packing. I had nothing to pack, so rubbing my eyes, slowly went in line to wait for the doors to open again. Another day, another task, another challenge. The beep sounded and the door opened. As I stepped out, I could hear 'Everyday for us (is) something new, open mind for a different view, and nothing else matters'!! and then I was out. The platform was neither tidy nor dirty. I glanced up at the name of the station - 'Balance' it said. Smiling to myself, I made my way to where everyone was gathering.
End of episode 2.
Mar 28, 2010
Jan 12, 2010
The journey from 'boy' to 'man'... 1
'How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man' sang Bob Dylan when he was 22. I'm 20 now and I often ask myself - can anyone ever become a man? What is the perfect definition of being a man? When this question popped into my head, I looked back, as is my habit, into previous examples and literature - especially into myths and epics, which had so many definitions of manliness and macho-ism... though they made exciting stories, i couldn't relate to any of the 'manly' characters... I didn't want to become Hercules, a guy who kills his daughter as a sacrifice to Zeus, nor do I want to become the man that Achilles, the Man-Slayer, was. I don't understand Krishna, who is everywhere and does everything, nor do I understand Yudhishtira who is the honourable king but loses his wife and country in gambling. I couldn't possibly become any of these people even if I tried, it's just not in me. So am I conventionally not a man??(!!!!) Well, this post is about what I consider the term 'man' to be and my journey of becoming one.
In my quest to manhood, I heard of an express train called 'boy to man' express for all those who waned to become men. The starting stop was from a station named 'boy' and the destination was to a place called 'man'. People said that many who boarded the train never came back and the few who came back said they didn't get to see the 'man' station. But to find out for myself, I went to the 'boy' station to board the train and it took me twenty years to make a reservation.
Anyway, I boarded the 'boy to man' express about four months ago. The thing with 'boy to man' express is that, once you get down at a stop, the train waits there till you come back to board it. And if you learn the things that were meant to be learnt, it moves on to the next station or else the doors of the train remain shut for you and you are left at whatever station you happen to be in. The first stop of the express was in a station called 'making choices'. When i got down at 'making choices' stop, ready to learn everything and move onto the next station quickly, I saw a lot of shops selling one poster. It read
'we make choices every second of our lives and thus sow the seeds of our future.
We may either sow the heart of a lion,
or the fang of a serpent;
the harvest likewise may resound like a roar,
or be bitter as poison'.
I spent a month at this station and learnt a lot of things, but the struggle always was not the learning but to make the choice of learning. There was a great temptation to skip this station and go back to 'boy', where everything was simple and easy but then I'd have an honest talk with the Shyam inside me and he always gave me the strength to take the hard way. After a month of struggle, I felt I had realised the meaning of the poster and went back to catch the train. And gladly, the train opened its doors for me and began to move forward....
The journey to the next station was arduous and slow, what with the train having to go through narrow tunnels made by drilling the belly of rocky hills. By this time I had acquired two companions - 'Sat' and 'Maj' in the train and we discussed about the tasks of the earlier station and the tests that might await us in the next one. But all the time, we were glad in each other's company and sometimes longed to be in 'boy', playing without a care in the world. Nevertheless, the train made steady progress and we reached the next station named 'the beauty of hard work'(bhw) in about a fortnight.
So we packed our rucksacks and got down at bhw and found that there was a speech being played in all the television sets in the station. In the TV, a battle scarred mongol veteran from medieval times was speaking something about serving under Genghis khan. He finished with this story - 'When I was a boy', said the mongol, 'I was taken to the border of our plains, to a mountain. We climbed to the top of the mountain and from there, after praying to the Mongol sky lord Tengri, my father rolled down a huge boulder. The boulder moved slowly at first, sometimes almost seemed to stop, but after only a short distance, it gathered great momentum and was unstoppable. Your mission in this station is to find the meaning of the story'. Saying thus, he finished and the TVs went blank. Me, Maj and Sat were left staring at each other.
End of episode 1... to be continued...
In my quest to manhood, I heard of an express train called 'boy to man' express for all those who waned to become men. The starting stop was from a station named 'boy' and the destination was to a place called 'man'. People said that many who boarded the train never came back and the few who came back said they didn't get to see the 'man' station. But to find out for myself, I went to the 'boy' station to board the train and it took me twenty years to make a reservation.
Anyway, I boarded the 'boy to man' express about four months ago. The thing with 'boy to man' express is that, once you get down at a stop, the train waits there till you come back to board it. And if you learn the things that were meant to be learnt, it moves on to the next station or else the doors of the train remain shut for you and you are left at whatever station you happen to be in. The first stop of the express was in a station called 'making choices'. When i got down at 'making choices' stop, ready to learn everything and move onto the next station quickly, I saw a lot of shops selling one poster. It read
'we make choices every second of our lives and thus sow the seeds of our future.
We may either sow the heart of a lion,
or the fang of a serpent;
the harvest likewise may resound like a roar,
or be bitter as poison'.
I spent a month at this station and learnt a lot of things, but the struggle always was not the learning but to make the choice of learning. There was a great temptation to skip this station and go back to 'boy', where everything was simple and easy but then I'd have an honest talk with the Shyam inside me and he always gave me the strength to take the hard way. After a month of struggle, I felt I had realised the meaning of the poster and went back to catch the train. And gladly, the train opened its doors for me and began to move forward....
The journey to the next station was arduous and slow, what with the train having to go through narrow tunnels made by drilling the belly of rocky hills. By this time I had acquired two companions - 'Sat' and 'Maj' in the train and we discussed about the tasks of the earlier station and the tests that might await us in the next one. But all the time, we were glad in each other's company and sometimes longed to be in 'boy', playing without a care in the world. Nevertheless, the train made steady progress and we reached the next station named 'the beauty of hard work'(bhw) in about a fortnight.
So we packed our rucksacks and got down at bhw and found that there was a speech being played in all the television sets in the station. In the TV, a battle scarred mongol veteran from medieval times was speaking something about serving under Genghis khan. He finished with this story - 'When I was a boy', said the mongol, 'I was taken to the border of our plains, to a mountain. We climbed to the top of the mountain and from there, after praying to the Mongol sky lord Tengri, my father rolled down a huge boulder. The boulder moved slowly at first, sometimes almost seemed to stop, but after only a short distance, it gathered great momentum and was unstoppable. Your mission in this station is to find the meaning of the story'. Saying thus, he finished and the TVs went blank. Me, Maj and Sat were left staring at each other.
End of episode 1... to be continued...
Oct 30, 2009
On having an ipod
I've never been good at taking care of my things. For instance, my computer doesn't obey me on anything and downloads stuff according to its own whims, my cell (which was one N72) got soaked in water twice before it decided that I don't deserve a display and later worked only when I startled it by hitting it with a hard object twice... but I lost that mobile along with my dear bag at some place I can't remember just before I broke my sun glasses and lost my bike key... I have never had a pen for more than a week in my entire life and my clothes are always stained and crumpled (especially now as I have to do my own laundry).
But I've got an ipod (which I got exchanged, because I messed up the original one) which really understands me. It's a small apple shuffle and I hold it dear because of a lot of reasons. Over the months it has become one of my closest friends. I put a selection of songs in it and kept it in the 'shuffle' mode because it's like the roller-coaster. You don't know what to expect next. The orderly playing of songs is just like a merry go round, you know whats coming and it just goes round and round. So, as I said this ipod really empathises with me.....When I am in a hurry and have to walk fast, it lets Chester cry 'I become so numb' and I find myself galloping. When I'm tired and walking slowly at the end of a long day, it gets SPB into the act and he melts into 'munpaniya, muthal mazhaiya' or Sonu Nigam eases his honey coated voice into 'kal ho na ho'. When I'm walking to classes, it introduces James Blunt and when I'm alone in buses admiring the countryside, it launches the genius of Rahman. He starts song after song, goes into a myriad of instrumental magic, builds up the momentum and ends up in symphonic style, drenching your heart out. But there are times when my ipod has its glum moments (after all it is a being too, and it has its mood swings!!). For instance, when I finish talking wonderfully with my girlfriend and can't control the smile on my face, it plays Bob Dylan or 'yeh jo des hai tera'. But then I don't change the song because I don't want to interfere in its free will and force my thoughts into it. I try talking to it but sometimes it's just not in the mood to listen. But I feel that it has the right to be like this because only a few days back, when I felt I had to let out my anger, it came up with 'time to play the game' and 'behold the king, the king of kings...on your knees dog' by Motorhead. I had ended up becoming artificially mean and it had cheered me up and I had thanked the little shuffle with all my heart. So after such a performance I felt I had to bear with the 'bob dylan' indulgences of my shuffle, because I honestly felt that it has earned it.
So we have our good days together and not so good days, but the thing is, it's always there for me (unless it runs out of battery). So I charge it up and it charges me up and we both pull it off at the end. It never worries about the dress I'm wearing or the things I did that day or what would I think of it if it didn't say hi. All it asks is that I pay a visit to it once in a while, plug it in my ears and spend some quality time with it. When no one else is there, it is always around to get my feet back on the ground, to make me smile and to make me feel, to finish a day off in solitude or to start one with vigour.
So, cheers - to shuffle and and its load of songs...
But I've got an ipod (which I got exchanged, because I messed up the original one) which really understands me. It's a small apple shuffle and I hold it dear because of a lot of reasons. Over the months it has become one of my closest friends. I put a selection of songs in it and kept it in the 'shuffle' mode because it's like the roller-coaster. You don't know what to expect next. The orderly playing of songs is just like a merry go round, you know whats coming and it just goes round and round. So, as I said this ipod really empathises with me.....When I am in a hurry and have to walk fast, it lets Chester cry 'I become so numb' and I find myself galloping. When I'm tired and walking slowly at the end of a long day, it gets SPB into the act and he melts into 'munpaniya, muthal mazhaiya' or Sonu Nigam eases his honey coated voice into 'kal ho na ho'. When I'm walking to classes, it introduces James Blunt and when I'm alone in buses admiring the countryside, it launches the genius of Rahman. He starts song after song, goes into a myriad of instrumental magic, builds up the momentum and ends up in symphonic style, drenching your heart out. But there are times when my ipod has its glum moments (after all it is a being too, and it has its mood swings!!). For instance, when I finish talking wonderfully with my girlfriend and can't control the smile on my face, it plays Bob Dylan or 'yeh jo des hai tera'. But then I don't change the song because I don't want to interfere in its free will and force my thoughts into it. I try talking to it but sometimes it's just not in the mood to listen. But I feel that it has the right to be like this because only a few days back, when I felt I had to let out my anger, it came up with 'time to play the game' and 'behold the king, the king of kings...on your knees dog' by Motorhead. I had ended up becoming artificially mean and it had cheered me up and I had thanked the little shuffle with all my heart. So after such a performance I felt I had to bear with the 'bob dylan' indulgences of my shuffle, because I honestly felt that it has earned it.
So we have our good days together and not so good days, but the thing is, it's always there for me (unless it runs out of battery). So I charge it up and it charges me up and we both pull it off at the end. It never worries about the dress I'm wearing or the things I did that day or what would I think of it if it didn't say hi. All it asks is that I pay a visit to it once in a while, plug it in my ears and spend some quality time with it. When no one else is there, it is always around to get my feet back on the ground, to make me smile and to make me feel, to finish a day off in solitude or to start one with vigour.
So, cheers - to shuffle and and its load of songs...
Oct 13, 2009
General notes and disclaimers
1. When I say things like 'honesty is the best policy' or 'life is worthless', I mean it as only my opinion. I don't include phrases like 'I feel', or 'according to me', just to keep the sentence crisp and to avoid redundancy.
2. When you find lines like 'man is a social animal' or 'a person makes a choice and he pays for it', it means 'human beings are social animals' and when a 'person chooses, he/she pays for it'.
Note: I'm not sexually biased or male chauvinistic, I follow this because of convention. Personal apologies to feminists.
3. The intention of my posts is not to bring someone round to my way of thinking but to just put my point across. I'm open to ideas and discussions and even the strongest of my ideas or theories can be dismantled and scrutinized.
4. I may consciously or unconsciously borrow some ideas from other sources like books or films. I've tried to put references whenever possible. But since this is not a professionally edited blog, I apologise if my ideas unintentionally seem to overlap with anyone else's. I don't believe that 'creativity is to know how to hide your sources'. I think creativity lies in forming our own interpretations of what we read. I believe strongly in crediting others when I borrow their ideas. So don't sue this blog for plagiarism!! :)
REFERENCES:
1. always around to get my feet back on the ground (on having an i-pod) - westlife song - 'seasons in the sun'
2. roller coaster, merry go round - comparison (on having an i-pod) - idea from movie 'Parenthood'.
3. pass the parcel - idea from the movie - 'History boys'
4. there is just so much beauty around, my heart just caves in and I feel I can't take it anymore. (Why words and beauty) - movie, American beauty.
more to be added...
2. When you find lines like 'man is a social animal' or 'a person makes a choice and he pays for it', it means 'human beings are social animals' and when a 'person chooses, he/she pays for it'.
Note: I'm not sexually biased or male chauvinistic, I follow this because of convention. Personal apologies to feminists.
3. The intention of my posts is not to bring someone round to my way of thinking but to just put my point across. I'm open to ideas and discussions and even the strongest of my ideas or theories can be dismantled and scrutinized.
4. I may consciously or unconsciously borrow some ideas from other sources like books or films. I've tried to put references whenever possible. But since this is not a professionally edited blog, I apologise if my ideas unintentionally seem to overlap with anyone else's. I don't believe that 'creativity is to know how to hide your sources'. I think creativity lies in forming our own interpretations of what we read. I believe strongly in crediting others when I borrow their ideas. So don't sue this blog for plagiarism!! :)
REFERENCES:
1. always around to get my feet back on the ground (on having an i-pod) - westlife song - 'seasons in the sun'
2. roller coaster, merry go round - comparison (on having an i-pod) - idea from movie 'Parenthood'.
3. pass the parcel - idea from the movie - 'History boys'
4. there is just so much beauty around, my heart just caves in and I feel I can't take it anymore. (Why words and beauty) - movie, American beauty.
more to be added...
The way of the heart!!
What is this thing people call values? What is honour? What is the difference between a guy who cheats on his wife and the guy who is true to his love? Does it make sense to die for something? I can't for the life of me understand guys who die for their country, guys who'd rather starve to death than steal or people who'd rather take a bullet between their eyes than disgrace their family. Well what are they trying to say? Do they think they're better than the guy who uses his opportunities, gets up the ladder in the crookedest of ways and then conceals his past to rule a great organisation or some country?
Well, I think there are three ways to live. The way of the senses, the way of the heart and the way of the mind. The way of the senses, according to me, is the worst way a person can live. He does what his senses tell him and then perishes - much like an insect or an animal. The way of the mind is to take your opportunities, put values aside, analyse your options and choose the best one. Such a person gets high up in the ladder but he never really lives, he just exists. He is like a computer.
The way of the heart is the way to live. It doesn't matter if we are right or wrong. What matters is we stand for what we believe. For truth keeps taking very many forms and rules change every fortnight but values are timeless. Values are the juice of this earth. We are all gonna die in a few years and the dust from our bones will be gone in a couple of centuries but the values will remain. When people die for a value, there is something heroic and poetic in it. Of course, heroes become dust too, but in that dust is a richer dust concealed.
When Hardy (english poet) writes about an ordinary soldier who dies for his country (Hodge the drummer) in battle (Yet an unknown piece of that land will Hodge forever be,
his northern brain and breasts grow to some southern tree;
and strange eyed constellations reign his stars eternally), an entire generation of youngsters realise the vanity of war and yet appreciate the valour of a drummer who braved the cannon when his motherland called for help. People with values die more often earlier than those who don't have one, but in their dying they tell the world that they didn't give up. They died believing and thus they pass on an idea - an idea of upholding values, of honour, of valour, of courage, of a way of life. Sometimes that's the best we can do. Believe in a value, live it, pass it on... take it, feel it, pass it on... Just, pass the parcel.
Well, I think there are three ways to live. The way of the senses, the way of the heart and the way of the mind. The way of the senses, according to me, is the worst way a person can live. He does what his senses tell him and then perishes - much like an insect or an animal. The way of the mind is to take your opportunities, put values aside, analyse your options and choose the best one. Such a person gets high up in the ladder but he never really lives, he just exists. He is like a computer.
The way of the heart is the way to live. It doesn't matter if we are right or wrong. What matters is we stand for what we believe. For truth keeps taking very many forms and rules change every fortnight but values are timeless. Values are the juice of this earth. We are all gonna die in a few years and the dust from our bones will be gone in a couple of centuries but the values will remain. When people die for a value, there is something heroic and poetic in it. Of course, heroes become dust too, but in that dust is a richer dust concealed.
When Hardy (english poet) writes about an ordinary soldier who dies for his country (Hodge the drummer) in battle (Yet an unknown piece of that land will Hodge forever be,
his northern brain and breasts grow to some southern tree;
and strange eyed constellations reign his stars eternally), an entire generation of youngsters realise the vanity of war and yet appreciate the valour of a drummer who braved the cannon when his motherland called for help. People with values die more often earlier than those who don't have one, but in their dying they tell the world that they didn't give up. They died believing and thus they pass on an idea - an idea of upholding values, of honour, of valour, of courage, of a way of life. Sometimes that's the best we can do. Believe in a value, live it, pass it on... take it, feel it, pass it on... Just, pass the parcel.
Why 'words and beauty'?
I often used to think - What's life? What is all this about? And each time I thought about it, I came up with a different answer. But the inner me kept saying that there is no purpose to this thing we call our life. And the more I thought about it, the more convinced I got that there is no plan in this planet. It's all chaos and accidents. May be that's how life itself began, by some unplanned accident of a couple of amino acids. But then here I am now, with the whole of my life before me, and what am I supposed to do with it? Well, most of the time I feel alive when I see beauty. And then I realised that there is beauty all around me.
When a guy in a simple dress tells you he's cool by the way he carries it off- without the slightest hint of self-consciousness, the way a girl looks at a boy with love in her eyes when she knows that the boy is being intelligently or foolishly foolish just to get her attention, the way a great footballer puts the simplest of passes but with so much elegance that you are raised to some stratospheric heights of bliss, the way a cat walks, the way a dog wags its tail, the way some guy lets go of an argument he knows he can win, when some unexpected incident makes you realise that you were in the wrong side of things... All of these are just some examples but there are so many day-to-day incidents that are so beautiful, if only we can open our eyes and see them. Sometimes there is just so much beauty around, you feel your heart caving in and you know you are at peace with the world. So according to me, living life is to feel that beauty. Because life is...well, beautiful. Since I can put my feelings into words here, I call this blog 'words and beauty'.
But i'm just beginning to realise a lot of things and I have no talent for certainty. I keep learning, unlearning and re-learning and I might contradict myself in the next blog or press upon my point more. Whatever I do, the viewers of this democratic blog have all the freedom to argue, condemn or agree with what I write.
So come on in....WELCOME to http://wordsandbeauty.blogspot.com/.
When a guy in a simple dress tells you he's cool by the way he carries it off- without the slightest hint of self-consciousness, the way a girl looks at a boy with love in her eyes when she knows that the boy is being intelligently or foolishly foolish just to get her attention, the way a great footballer puts the simplest of passes but with so much elegance that you are raised to some stratospheric heights of bliss, the way a cat walks, the way a dog wags its tail, the way some guy lets go of an argument he knows he can win, when some unexpected incident makes you realise that you were in the wrong side of things... All of these are just some examples but there are so many day-to-day incidents that are so beautiful, if only we can open our eyes and see them. Sometimes there is just so much beauty around, you feel your heart caving in and you know you are at peace with the world. So according to me, living life is to feel that beauty. Because life is...well, beautiful. Since I can put my feelings into words here, I call this blog 'words and beauty'.
But i'm just beginning to realise a lot of things and I have no talent for certainty. I keep learning, unlearning and re-learning and I might contradict myself in the next blog or press upon my point more. Whatever I do, the viewers of this democratic blog have all the freedom to argue, condemn or agree with what I write.
So come on in....WELCOME to http://wordsandbeauty.blogspot.com/.
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