May 8, 2006

The Coonoor connection

A nice thing about blogging is it enables connectivity that transcends memory; insofar as it re-connects one-time friends who have long ceased to remember each other. I heard from such a friend, Mr Marshall Gass in New Zealand, the other day, for no reason other than that he happened to Google something I wrote in zine5 some time back – ‘And so I must write to GVK and say Hi’. The zine5 piece had “stirred the tentacles of an old memory”.

Mr Gass used to blog in a Coonoor site I hosted before moving to Mysore. Of the site, Mr Gass, who had left Coonoor over 35 years back, wrote; “So many mates from the old school days have made contact since my e-mail went on this site (Coonoor Connection) – Hindley, Ramamurthy, Francis Mathews, Eates. Amazing. It was the best fun in the world, catching up with those guys I played marbles with 35 years back”.

In his e-mail this Coonoor-connected New Zealander said his memories of the place were ‘browned and faded like an antique photograph’ and described Coonoor as ‘epitaph of a cherubic dream’. “The contacts appeared and disappeared, and once in a while I get the do-you-remember-me story”, writes Mr Gass, “I most often do”.

I write to him saying we have moved on to Mysore, and had to abandon the Coonoor site, now dead out of sheer neglect. But then Mr Gass has a Mysore connection as well. Look up his blog entry in Impressions – ‘Up close and cheeky with Mysore crocs’.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

*prod* *prod*

Nothing yet? Your readers are getting a little impatient, GVK.

So what's on your take of late?

marshall said...

The bus journey between Coonoor and Mysore is about as tenous a connection as there is with blogging. You meet people, yet you say goodbye and each little act is a perfunctory exciting exercise that often resurrects little snippets of thought.

I like blogging. It is much better than an afternoon at the pub swimming in lugs of beer.

I notice, like blogs, Coonoor and Mysore are connected by a treacherous road. Ever so often you ride on the edge of a cloud and burst back into lush jungle brimming with bushes. The rows and rows of tea shrubs add a symmetry to your journey. Who can forget the little tea shop tucked on the precarious ledge of a hillside where the bus rests for a break. Toilets and tea bushes go alike.

The Mysore blog is flourishing, because new faces and names have cropped up. Photos would be nice too.

Thanks for reading this little recollection

Marshall