Skip to main content

My first 'real' dictionary!

Blame lethargy for this. I've rarely bothered to consult the dictionary even though I come across too many words that stump me.

Dad bought me my first dictionary when I was 9, a Bhargava with lots of colored pictures to hold the young mind captive. I brandished it before my friends as proof of my reaching a certain degree of intellectual maturity. After all, only the intellectuals consulted dictionaries. But I reached for my dictionary only to flip through the pages for the lovely pictures and not for meanings.

A few years later, we students were laden with the Orient Longman Dictionary. It was thick, dull, boring and almost without pictured. We were asked to troop all our brainwaves and consult it whenever in need, a directive we unanimously decided to ignore. I had outgrown my first dictionary and consulting the second provided me with no distinct advantage over my peers. So the appendage of a dictionary languished somewhere in my bookshelf, seldom to be consulted.

The third dictionary came my way after a long hiatus, when I was in Pune. It was a Cambridge Dictionary and came in a stunningly attractive red-colored paperback. Though I has seriously looking forward to consult it this time-my stunted vocabulary being a real cause of concern by now- I never got to use it. Still factory-fresh in my cupboard, it was stolen by someone whom I'll not identify here. Anyway, leveling charges without a shred evidence is not justified. Maybe my suspicions are misplaced anyway.

Cut to the present. The Net made the dictionary redundant, well...almost. Still, the good-old dictionary couldn't be done away with entirely. So I made the valiant attempt today at setting things right by buying the ubiquitous and universally trusted Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary on my way back home after work.

Mission accomplished, it was supposed to serve as a companion to A Suitable Boy. Seth's great book is endowed with so many words that throw me into a tailspin that I need some semblance of sanity while sifting through the pages. Yet, my new dictionary lies utilized. Old habits die hard.

Fret not, I'll use the dictionary soon.


Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still