May 22, 2011

Rewrite From Hell

The darling husband is sentimental about everything he sees or hears these days, which I think is a comical side effect of his brain finally being able to function without the noise and pollution of our erstwhile environs. Me? I just play loud music at home and walk past weed stores an awful lot to maintain my inner balance.

So anyway, here's an extract from a recent poetic post by the husband:

Imagine a cold, overcast day. Now imagine a quaint pub at the corner of a street by a canal. Entering it on a day like this is like entering a new world. You are sitting, chatting with colleagues with a glass of iced tea in your hand. Music plays in the background but faintly – for it doesn’t want to intrude on your conversation. In fact it is so faint that it sounds like a whisper from a world beyond ours. The music changes and your ears catch a vaguely familiar strain. But they can’t quite place it. Besides this is a pub – most of whatever little reached your ears is drowned in conversations around you. That nagging sense of familiarity persists – and the inability to clearly hear the music strengthens it. Then suddenly, by some stroke of good fortune, the conversations at your table and at the table beyond and at the bar stools pause for a fraction of a second – as if everyone was reading from the same page and encountered a full stop. And you hear with unmistakable clarity a voice that you know can only be Paul McCartney softly crooning:

Michelle, my belle.
Sont des mots qui vont très bien ensemble,
Très bien ensemble.

I challenged him that I could better this, and here's my version:

Miserable cold day! Thank God for the cosy pub. English music drowned by chatter and tinkling glasses, as usual. Wait! Don’t I recognize that song? Maybe if I could HEAR it you know! Ah! Paul of the Mc Cartney variety of course! I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU with increasing urgency, as if waiting in a long bathroom queue. But why is it so quiet all of a sudden? Oh nerve gas! Ouch! Bye! Logging out!

Look at the economy of words! The depth of feeling! The stream of consciousness! I'm wasting my talent I say! :)

And now look at Maamu McCartney putting the song to real good use!


Deepak said...

If you did this to every post I wrote, this world will be a better place :)

Ink Spill said...

Me shall, My बैल
We'll do this very well
I can tell!


Sanjana said...


So have u guys tried the funny brownies yet?

dipali said...

I was grinning from ear to ear at the song, and now at the two of you!!! So good to have you back:)

Ink Spill said...

Sanjana: You think we need those? We're quite far gone already!

Dipali: We're honoured to bring you your weekly dose of entertainment!

dipali said...


Parmanu said...

You are wasting your talent. And like nuclear waste, it will hang around these pages a million years, never letting us forget.

Guess what - I am in blore now. And you aren't.

Aditya said...

I actually came across your blog an year ago, upon your very informative post on marriage registration (had even commented on that). Another friend needed that bit of info, so found your blog again and this time spent a few minutes reading your posts. Very good, I am impressed! I have added your blog to my rss reader now :) Keep writing

Sanjana said...

I think it will be interesting to see how the poetry will flow then! :P