Play me Tribes of Babel as Baiju does..
Write me erotica with politics and history and sarcasm as Tejpal does..
Sing me Uyire as Hariharan does..
Narrate the winter as, "It came down in little white fluffs; you felt that a gigantic hand had punched a gigantic cotton wool sack open, letting down flurries of cotton shreds.
The streets were not covered,but the tops of the naked branches were white with it- a white that showed more beautiful because the limbs of the trees were in comparison stark black."- Naipaul..
Speak eloquently as Anand Mahindra does..
Talk endlessly about anything,
about anything under the sun including the sun,
about VVV-Veda Vatsyayana Voltaire,
about Freud and Pamuk,
about Balamurali and Niladri Kumar,
about Sainath and Kiran Bedi,
about the Brits and the Mughals..
Do any of these..and gimme the orgasmic pleasure..the goosebumps..
Others - are just ordinary!!
But, is it nothing to know when you are dying, when you are about to take leave of this world, of its joys and sorrows, when the past of your life is unfurled before you, when eternity opens wide its portals, is it nothing to know at that last awful,supreme moment of your lives, that you have not lived in vain, that you have lived for the benefit of others, that you have lived to help in the cause of your country's regeneration?