Purba Ray is to the Indian blogging world what fragrance is to a wild rose. Each defining each, as it were.
A few weeks ago this bong femme fatale prettily asked me if I would do a guest post for her. I don’t want to inundate you with similes but this was like a pretty girl asking a hopeful young Lochinvar if he would pick up her perfumed handkerchief. I put my front paws up, let loose the melting gaze and yapped joyfully. Purba (this is for the uninitiated) casts a powerful spell.
I first heard of this lady over a year ago. I read one of her pieces and was hooked for life. Her sense of the ridiculous is an exquisite work of art. When this combines with a lethal repertoire of language and a proclivity towards outspoken frankness that would have sent my late (maternal) grandmother into one fit after another, you generate a tornado. This she does, with as firm a hand as ever wielded a keyboard. When on her blog A-Musing, tie yourself to a stout tree and hold on to your hair. That’s all I can say. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.
Without further ado then, let me take you over to her blog where my piece has found a home. This is what I wrote for her:
A couple of years ago I read a newsletter from one of the inspirational websites I keep stumbling upon from time to time. The fact that I still remember the gist of the mail’s contents shows how powerful the message was. Yet, there was nothing spectacular about the message. It was as simple as a child’s spontaneous hug; as soothing as a gentle, misty rain after a parched, dusty day.
The mail contained an excerpt from Kate Nowak’s book May You Be Blessed. In this excerpt Kate talks about the unfolding of the events that led her to write the book. It is a simple but powerful story. Let me recount it as best as I can, from memory.