An Image

You know how some images stick in your mind for years, even though they may not mean anything very much; may not even be beautiful? I have a ruined hut in my mind which is like that. I had seen it in Chakwal, Pakistan, for a few minutes, in between some other things. I have written about my visit to Chakwal already.

My sister visited me in November, bringing with her a box of slides of Pakistan which I had left with her. Most of them have a nasty purplish overlay, which I've been trying to clear away through the magic of Photoshop. I was scanning the slides from Chakwal, and found one of the hut. Fittingly, perhaps, it was ruined; I couldn't bring it to life. And yet the photograph succeeds for me, because it suggests something coloured by the imagination:


I love the little tree, which someone carefully planted beside the door -- I had forgotten it. This is what I wrote:

It was the most rudimentary structure, enclosed within a low stone wall. The pale stones, mud mortar crumbling away, the half-fallen thatch of the roof through which blue sky was visible, the rotting door, the broken wooden bedstead -- all seemed touching. I wondered about the lives it had contained, and why they had left it. The air was very quiet, sunny, clear and cold.

Several Things

I'm on vacation, first of all. Hurray for wi-fi!

Secondly, a few days back I was able once again to see the blogsites which had been banned by the government earlier - blogspot, typepad, geocities. Many ISPs had lifted the ban earlier; mine, Hathway, was apparently one of the last to let go. No notice of imposition, and none of lifting: one day it was all just there again.

Thirdly, I am amusing myself with a little pamphlet I made out of old wedding invitations:



I'm filling it up and posting the pictures on my sketch blog, for those who are interested in this kind of thing: fire star arts.

That's about it, I guess. It's so lovely in Bangalore right now - soft air, a breeze making the most beautiful sighing sound in the branches of the trees, birds with more melodious cries than those of my household crows. As in the beginning of every vacation, it's hard to imagine ever leaving.

Carta de respuesta a Jovito Rivas Pérez

Quisiera replicar con esta carta las declaraciones realizadas en esta Tribuna por un militante de psdg-psoe de Vigo, que formo parte de una gestora designada a dedo hace 3 años, con total desprecio por las normas democratitas.

Según sus declaraciones en lo único que a ha usted ha acertado es, en que los militantes, mas de dos tercios, reclaman su derecho a no ser excluidos en el proceso de elección de candidatos a la alcaldía de Vigo. .

En dicha asamblea la totalidad de los asistentes, mas de 350, votaron en su mayoría y dando su apoyo a la solicitud anteriormente comentada, con la excepcion de 7 militante que votaron en contra, entre los que me supongo que usted estaría entre ellos.

Tacha usted de ejecutiva Cautiva, y desde mi entender eso es hablar por no estar callado. Es de notar su necesidad de protagonismo, asi como de su alergia a las urnas.

Es curioso que todas estas afirmaciones vengan de usted, que ha pertenecido a una gestora designada a dedo y que cuando los socialistas de Vigo recuperaron su capacidad de decidir, con libertad su futuro, enviaron a sus componentes ,entre ellos a usted, al baúl de los recuerdos.

Quisiera recordarle que la democracia mana del pueblo y de las urnas y que en esta ocasión la mayoría de militancia se ha decantado por una opción, que le guste a usted o no, es fruto de democracia. Es de lamentar que usted nunca haya conseguido que lo eligiesen sus compañeros, le recomiendo humildad y prudencia.

Seria interesante que reflexione. A nadie salvo a los autoritarios ,les gusta que otros tomen decisiones por la mayoría.. Así no, señor mío, así no. Libertad, por ti vivo.
Carta publicada en Faro de Vigo