Posted on: October 31, 2008 - 11:28 pm
Prateeksha, Mumbai October 31, 2008 10:46 pm
मेरे सभी प्रिय पाठक गण,
कुछ दिनों से आप के समक्ष नहीं आ सका, इसके लिए क्षमा वाचना. आजकल दिन भर सिवाए धूप मे बैठ कर शरीर को सेकने के इलावा कुछ हो नहीं रहा है . जीवन कुछ नीरस हो उठा है . और इस विवशता से अभी निकलने का कोई इरादा दिखाई नहीं दे रहा है . डॉक्टर की सलाह के बिना कुछ करने की इजाज़त नहीं है , इस लिए घर बैठे अंगूठा चूस रहे हैं . कुछ लोगों से मिलने का कार्यक्रम धीरे-धीरे आरम्भ किया है . आशा करता हूँ की शीघ्र स्वस्त होने के बाद काम शुरू कर पाउँगा .
शेष समाचार साधारण है . मेरा प्यार स्वीकार कीजिये -
आपका ही
अमिताभ बच्चन
Nothing much happens these days except the drying of the skin on my face in the morning bright sun. I am unable to do much else. The doctors are rigid in their routine for me and I follow diligently.
Some meetings have begun to materialize. Endorsements, new projects, books being readied for printing and so on. Much is there to be done and the time for it rushing by.
“Challenge yourself beyond your limits. You may well surprise yourself at what strengths you possess”
The strong and meaningful words stare at me from my mobile provoking one to read and follow.
I shall, the moment I regain my strength.
Disturbing news comes across from Assam. The bombing and the killing of hundreds of innocents. The mobile lights up again and pleads to light up a candle for those that have lost lives. We do, we do. But who will light up the minds of those that perpetrate this horror. Who will instill in them the futility of such acts. What is the point of economic and sporting victories, when our very souls weep. Are there really any gainers in this horrific exercise. What metal is the conscience of those that violate, made of.
There is complete disregard to any authority of any kind. And all that authority does is sit in front of myriad microphones and mouth diplomatic and politically correct phrases; a pre enacted routine, now stale from repetition.
A celebrated lady columnist from Nasik expresses a desire to translate my blog daily in Marathi. She has done similar to another celebrated Marathi journalist’s books written in English; translated her titles and had them published. I am embarrassed by the value she gives to my writing. I write as a pleasant pastime. To connect to the other world. To converse with those that do not know me. Know of me, but not know me. I have never done this with the thought of expansion and extension or indeed exploitation. I am happy with my gentle little tool. I feel burdened when I learn and confront such requests.
What does one do ? Maybe be you could give valued suggestions.
I tire now. The pillow behind my back tempts me to cozy up and stretch out for the long journey of the night. The dark invitation of slumber to bring you up after that to another day and its uncertainties. Could be pleasurable, could be not.
I should be ready for both.
My love and more -
Amitabh Bachchan
