Preface…

 

Writing has been glorified for centuries,  multitude of writers have put their entire being into this wonderful form of expressing, or rather bringing out the human in us.

And blogging for one is a strong medium for writing and letting people know what you are, who you are. . .

Hmmmmm…… I have been thinking a lot about this blogging. At first I thought it was some waste of time, that was way back in school when I had lots of people around, to talk to, to play with, to sing along with. Not that I have lost contact of any of them. God forbid. But just that, those moments are a luxury now.

Now that I have all the time in the world and alone, I think I am ready to blog.

I unfortunately do not know who would read this. But given a second thought, I’d pleasure myself happily telling the reader whats on my mind as I write.

I don’t fancy spelling out my name or tell what I do or where I am, so I would keep this for you to find out. That was for those who do not know me. As for those who know me or atleast happened to know me, I’d say I am just the same.

In the subsequent entries, I shall bring to you my ideas of life, introduce myself on the way, the people I love the most, the people I admire the most, the fun of living free, the joy of being me and lots more.

I had written some thoughts on some social sites but this organised writing is for the first time. Bear with me for the english I use. I know I am not good in the language constructs. My vocabulary is weak, I understand. Please feel free to write to me if you find errors. Id appreciate that.

Comments ??   Don’t bother to drop one. 

yours sincerely

Len

 

 

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Declaration < disclaimer?? > < copyright?? >

All thoughts, facts, and truths shared in this blog is the sole authority of the author himself. No part of the blog may be used or reused to frame him or anyone related or mentioned in the entries of the blog. lolz

HMITM (How much is too much?)

Date: 20.09.2009

This post is written in the context of India, as this is my domicile and I have some knowledge about it. Maybe because whatever happens here directly or indirectly effects me.

HMITM (How much is too much?)

If you have been following my earlier posts, you might have come across this question. And the theme of most of my posts might be driven by this thought. I just get hit by this question often in my daily exchange with people or maybe media, whatever it may be, or some habits or likewise.

Today I write about a series of instances that have found it too much or about to be termed so, I know it has hit you many times too.

Ever-Enthusiastic media: Whatever it may be, the TRP driven media don’t seem to understand that they are over enthusiastic. I being an ardent viewer of television does not wish to see the gruesome human acts that human glorify.  Had I been in the 26/11 incident and is being kept captive at the Taj, I would not have wanted to see that my captors being helped to counter my rescue attempts.  I also do not want to know who marries who, which celebrity is wearing what. I have so much to know from you. I do not know the Government schemes for my welfare. How my money is being used for the nation and all those stuffs. What all will you show me? Tomorrow, you will tell me how many morsel of food did SRK eat the last dinner. HMITM?

People, come on, how can the government help in bringing the monsoon. Let us be real. You can’t blame them that the rain is late. And let us not complain, it is you who sold your vote for God knows how much or what. Or maybe you found some names in the list of prospective familiar. Or maybe it was some family you thought was capable, or maybe you thought, “how would it mater” and forgot the date you got to choose who will run the nation. Blaming for everthing? HMITM

The two letters U and S are so over-rated. Why do we run to them every time? The neighbors have defied the sacred LOC, we run to them. Some dropped some thing across, we run to them. Everyone dream of going to the hyped US of A. US this, US that. HMITM?

Fear of the bearded people. Not all bearded people are Islamic. Not all Islamic people are jehadists. Fear or hate I do not know. But, HMITM?

The Government, please, how much are you going to collect from me just to waiver the loans? Various schemes? Giving me 100 rupees for 100 days will not help me sustain, trust me. You cannot just start distributing the nation’s money to everyone; remember we are more than a billion. Your way of winning popularity votes. HMITM?

Again people, stop reproducing more. One is a blessed, two is company, and three is a crowd. I guess your kid would want to finish his or her 12 standard, rather than share it with his other three siblings and do till 4th standard.

Now, parents, you cant ask more from the kids. They are not marks making machines you know. But of course if you were Einstein, then oh well, I could have trusted the genetic theory, but you are not. Please do not force the kids to be what you could not.

Schools, you cannot ask more from the kids, they are not your experimental lab-rats to work on with.

Kids, you cannot blame the world around. You came here, and there is no turning back. You are not smarter than your seniors, parents, or me, kidding.

Men’s greed to want more and more and more.

Well, there are lots but if I put in all, the post will again be long and something that I alone will be reading. So, I shall stop here and if you find anything that can be asked “HMITM?” then please feel free to drop in.

First to None

 

I woke up this morning to be greeted by my newspaper, as always. But today was different. The paper advertised a lot of No. 1s in India. The First page said, India’s No. 1 multimedia institute. The third page brought the No. 1 Coaching Institute. As I browsed through the paper, I got some more No 1s (water purifier, Bank, etc. etc.)

The same goes with the Television too. It’s all No. 1s.

Why are there no No. 2?

Why are people trying to bring chaos in the peaceful existence by calling everyone the First, the Best, the Cheapest, The costliest etc.

Well, sometimes I don’t want the best of them all. If everyone says they are the No. 1. What options do I have? I need the No. 2 or maybe 3.

As stupid as this post may seem. But didn’t you notice this with me? That there are only No. 1s.

 

All First to None.  

Our Greatest Fears

Oxford defines Fear as an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. The likelihood of something unwelcome happening.

How about this, A painful emotion or passion excited by the expectation of evil, or the apprehension of impending danger; apprehension; anxiety; solicitude; alarm; dread. The Webster so defines.

Alright, the topic should not be a superlative degree. There are lots I know.

Anglophobia, Aichmophobia, Androphobia / Arrhenophobia,  Anuptaphobia, Ataxophobia, Bathophobia, Bibliophobia, Bufonophobia, Cacophobia, Claustrophobia, Cleithrophobia, Daemonophobia, Didaskaleinophobia, Enochlophobia, Heterophobia, Homophobia, Laliophobia, Logizomechanophobia, Melophobia, Monophobia, Myctophobia, Obesophobia, Pedophobia, Pentheraphobia,  Phronemophobia, Sociophobia,  Taphephobia,  Zeusophobia , Zoophobia . . .

There you go. I have named some Phobias.

Quite recently, I was filling up a quiz in Facebook (I am a Fan now) about My Greatest fears. It turn out that I fear to go Mad, insane, crazy. Isn’t it true? Waking up one morning to find you do not have control over your mind. You are infested with the demons that rule your insanity. Gosh! How unfortunate.

 You fear that you are drowning in a lake, with each breathe you struggle for your life as it fills your lungs with water. You fear that you fall off a cliff to an unending fathomage. You fear that you will be tormented by the Hosts of darkling. You fear that you will be electrocuted till you are no more.  You fear you will be suffocated to death. You fear this, you fear that. Fear, Fear, Fear.

 Each individual is tormented with one fear or the other. You would not dare tell the other of what you fear, lest you sabotage your defense by declaring your weakness.

 The great men fear of downfall, the little men fear of not rising up, the middle strata people fear of being crushed in the middle. These days, the women fear of getting out of houses, the men fears of not finding enough to feed his kith and kin on. The children fear of mediocre-performance, the parents fear of their future. The lovers fear of being separated, the parents fear of social status. 

 The Governments fear of performance and peoples’ mandate. The politicians fear of being voted out, the citizen fear of neglect and tyranny. Countries fear of being subjugated, Human race fear of being wiped out due to climatic changes. Employers fear of meeting expenditure budget, the employees fear of the pink slip.

 Human beings are full of fear.

 Some find resort in religion, some in yoga and spirituality, some in war and intimidation. Some find peace in hermitry and sagehood. But how far are we successful in deceiving ourselves. Fear is what fear is.

 What are your fears – public or intimate?

 

 

Something original please

People, we can do much better than this.

Once is good, twice is ok, but frequently? Come on let us be more original.

First it was the Muntadar al-Zaidi, a reporter with Cairo-based network Al Baghdadia Television to Bush. Then it was at Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao. People started writing about the “politics of shoe throwing“.

Then, the fever soon caught up our people and we have started slinging shoes at our ministers, first Chidambaram, now Advani, who knows who’s on line next.

Isn’t it time to stop behaving like the Monkeys (from the famous story we learnt in our childhood, where a cap seller throws his cap to let all the monkeys throw the stolen caps) Aren’t we a bit more innovative to imitate others. If we want a political message to be brought forward, why not use some other means. I don’t know what, but something different.

I resent this shoe throwing activist. Its outrageous. I don’t say that the politicians do not deserve and all, but there are other ways to protest.

How much is too much?

The next person thinking to throw it, please think about it.

Cheers.

Politics and Celebrities

Come elections and we see lots of things happening.

But!!!

There is one small thing I am still not convinced about. It’s the Celebrities and politics.

I am not against anyone and I do not want to be in this dangerous world of crude minds where people are booked by law and organization for practicing Freedom of speech.

Politics and Government and People are one important aspect of any nation. And so are the individuals involved.

Playing with politics, I propose, must be made un-pardonable. And in this case, the celebrities.

I do not say that they are not politically aware or are not qualified for it and all. But as per their chosen profession, it is not their cup of tea.

Learned people of the nation, let us not go by how well a person do well on screen, or likewise. Let them not use their celebrity image to get into the highest political seat of the country, deciding your rights and duties.

Once in recent past, we found a candidate who then was in a soap serial, had to take a break from it and tried her hand in politics. She lost, unfortunately. But then she went back again into being the Saas-Bahu.

One sitting MP had enough time to come on to weekly comedy shows. Must have been heaven in his constituency, without any worries, or have the constitution lessened the work of an MP, I am not updated yet in my copy of constitution.

The ability and credibility of a person, his love for the nation and people must be the sole criterion for being successful in Politics, and not the Face Value. And credibility comes when he/she is involved in it for his/her entire lifetime, knowing the ins and outs.

We know, Indian Citizen qualified by Article 84 from any profession, background can serve the nation through their political activities. So we cannot bar the celebrities from contesting, can we?

But I think it’s the moral responsibility of the contesting celebrity candidate to decide as to whether it is justified on him/her standing for the legislature.

And also, the voting citizens, to make an intelligent judgment, and not go after the heart.

Can we do it this time?

Let us not elect some soap character, some sportsman, or anyone for that mater who we think and foresee will be a dummy in the highest seat of legislation of the Nation. Let them prove their credibility and then The Nation of billion people will decide.

Paradox, as i call it

They say men and women are equal. I agree and you might too. Women “claims” that they can par or maybe ‘out-par’ men in all aspects. I don’t disagree and neither do you, I suppose.

Let me bring you my argument.

I have seen breadwinners and so family heads who are women. There are women CEOs and MDs, Political leaders, Doctors, engineers, drivers, etc. and etc. And the women population is quite confident and boastful about these. Thus, staking claim in the equal right and status.

Now, were you (men) frustrated some day when you were dead tired and climbed into a bus, and found one row of the bus empty, but still you could not sit and relax because of the red letters “ladies”. Or one day you found that the train had 12 of its compartments filled far more to the capacity, but you turn around to a forbidden ‘empty’ boogie marked “ladies”.

Reservation for women in the legislature has been the ‘in thing’ since 2004. Not much has been done as yet.

I am not here to advocate either side; of being a feminist or the contrary. But this paradox, as I call, is way too much for me to handle. On one side, they say men and women are equal, but on the other they claim reservation on anything.

[ Don’t get me wrong, I too have a Mother and a sister, and I have the best interest of them in my mind and heart. ]

If men and women are equal, why can’t I sit on the row marked in red or get into the boogie restricted for the fairer gender. OR why don’t we have another row reserved for ‘MEN’, just a proposition though.

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Don’t bother to reply, if you want to pick up a fight. I just wrote what I want to write.

The City of Joy

This is not an excerpt of the novel, nor a gist of it. I just chose this name as they like to call it. This is not a travel guide either, just a plain interpretation of this great city, as they call it, through my eyes.

I happen to be here in this City of Joy, thanks to my profession. The capital city of West Bengal State of India, standing tall with architectures constantly reminding us of the tyranny of the colonial era.

What I found here in Bengal is literature. Now this is at bloom. With the likes of Tagore hailing from the city, it is an obvious certainty that people have an affinity towards books. But!!! When you get into a regional book house, you will find a lot of indigenous works, but do they find this many readers? It seems like there are more writers than readers. Which reminds me of one thing; People here love to give lectures, anytime anywhere, with passion, fervor and thrust on anything. I find they like to speak a lot, necessarily or unnecessarily.

The very first thing I noticed was, the enormous number of people everywhere, may even be hundreds in a small square of one meter. In the books it’s some 27000 per Sq Km. but I think they did some serious mistake in calculation.

Alright, the first place I visited, as any guy would, is the Park Street, which is supposed to be the happening place of the city. But was not so happening on the Sunday I went. The reason I was told is that the city takes the day off in the week. Which I think is the great influence the Colonial rule had imposed to take the Sabbath off. But then, there was this Chinese restaurant which served the dinner and cooled down the discontent of the day.

Meat-eaters? They love eating, Non veg. So if you are one. You are not lost in Bengal. Fish is a delicacy, all kinds of them.

Coming back to “The City of Joy”, the book. Yes, there is still hand pulled rickshaws. Pity you may feel for them. There is a dilemma, to sit on them and make their living, thus being inhuman or not sit on them and still be inhuman of not making someone make a living.

The state is ruled by the communist. I don’t quite get if the general public does know what Communism is. But the people worship it here, whether it be forced or their will. No comments further. But the City and the state are deteriorating. The paper says that Bengal has the highest FDI in India, but on the other hand, they drove away The Singur – Nano project.

I was having this discussion with a local here about the political situation in Bengal (This is not to be quoted anywhere else, please). Here’s what he has to say, “One of them don’t like Development/ Modernization, while on the other hand, the other (i.e. the opposition) don’t know what Development is.” I let this thought to sink in and kept it for future use. But then, when I look back the history of the state. I found this to be kind of true.

A good half a century back, the state was asked if they would want a centre run medical university. The government back then, said they are one self reliant people and do not need it. And thus, the AIIMS Delhi remained the sole apex medical university in India.

Now, who is to blame? The government who don’t seem to work, The people who elected the government, or Democracy, which is failing. Now this brings me to one more topic, “Indian Democracy, A hit or miss”, which I am studying upon. When I get some fresh ideas, I’ll post it.

Alright, enough of the polity talks.

Transportation: Being a metro city, it has good underground metro lines taking you from Dum Dum to tollyganj, supposed to be opposite parts of the city. I have to check this out in the map. Apart from this, they have cabs, which are quite cheap comparing with the cabs of other metropolitan cities esp. Bangalore. Ok, about cabs, they will charge double the meter cost + Rs. 2. Don’t worry it’s the Law of the municipality. There are Busses, the chassis of which are the only part that is metal, other parts are wood. You got to see it to believe me.

I take this in a new paragraph. The TRAMS. Nowhere in India will you see this. Its an asset you know. If you have lots of time, then you definitely have to get into one. Trust me you will love it.

If you happen to go out of Kolkata, then, there are these excellent local trains, which take you as far as Kharagpur, Haldia, Amta etc. but from Howrah of course.

Come October, they will celebrate Durga Puja, which I am told is an expensive affair.

Long writings do make people bore, this I am told. But I don’t want you to get to another page deliberating on the same topic. But, Democracy has made anyone free to opt out of not reading anytime he/she likes.

The Traffic: Any traffic rule? I doubt it. There happen to be more cars than people. Now try to fathom with the density I gave you earlier. Uhha?? The people riding happen to be un-understandable devils squeezing every little breathable space they get.

Eateries: You will find anything edible here in Kolkata. I’ll tell you what I want. KFC in Park street and Citimarket, one more in Salt lake; Dominos, here and there; McD, Park street (I don’t know where the others are); Pizza Hut, Citimarket; CCD- Café Coffee Day, Park Street and others I don’t know.

Now you see, I remember only Park Street and adjoining areas, because that’s the only place I frequently visit. Updates on eateries later.

Well that’s it for now. A month is not sufficient to know everything. And perhaps I am not on a holiday trip to know the place in 3-4 days of tour. I have months and years with me. I’ll definitely keep you updated.

Till then Take care.

Of course, you can read my other posts, if at all it sees the light of internet.

The System

“Say mate, are you satisfied with what is going on in your life, ummm, what you have achieved till now?” I asked a friend of mine the other day. This thought had been in my mind for quite a long time now. I do not know if I am alright with what’s going on. I do not know or have a count in my life as to how many times I have compromised with what the system has in store for me and has to offer me. The system is just so decided that you don’t have an option to look out of it. And we cannot do anything about it.

As we grow up, we have this set path where we are to go. There are no alternatives. You have to fit in the system. Think as the system wants you to think, perform as the system wants you to. You understand what I am talking about?

See. I was born and brought up in an educated teaching family, so to say. My Grandfather had been a teacher, and so are my mother and father, my aunts and uncle and all. But there was this narrow thinking as to what life was altogether. You have to study, and study, and study. There was no alternative for not studying the texts. I am grateful for that, as I now am an Engineer and all. But that’s not the point. What I like to bring in is that, the system drives us and we do not have a say in this.

When you are in the system, you see, think, and feel as the system. For instance, in the society, being educated, and getting a good job, and getting settled is what a successful person is. Yes it is; no doubt about it. If we are in this flow of thinking, I am a successful person and am satisfied, because I meet most of the criteria. Which implies, in the system I am successful. I keep reading in books, how a son has to live up to the expectations, for instance like, to go to the prestigious school that his father and his grandfather had gone. Those are fiction books, but these fiction stories do come up out of the society we live in.

Don’t you think you are tightly bound? Well, I do. Now for once, come out of the system and think what you really want and all. I wanted to become a musician, or a writer, or a poet, or an essayist, or something. It was out of the system. It was something that I was not expected to be. (Please do not take it that the said professions are inferior or something. I am just making a point, that’s all.) Try music, it is something posh and for people of high ends. “Music does not fill your stomach”, is a recurrent chide you get if you seriously think about following it. Being from a middle class background, music was not a profession that could sustain me and my family, neither was sports nor was writing.

There was no option. You have this notion in the entire land (I mean the country I’m from) that for a secure living in the future, it is Engineering or Medical. You don’t believe me? Alright, randomly pick a kid from any school, and ask then what they want to become in future. I tried it, to about a hundred kids. Only one said I want to be a teacher. And the ninety nine said either of the above profession. What I want to bring is that, this said notion is so much engraved in each and every individual that, it comes as a natural thing now. It is in us so deep; we think it is the only thing. (This Engineering-Medical syndrome is brought just to make the point of how well the society is entangled with the system.)

So much for free thinking and free living. Think about how much of the path we take, the thoughts we think and the like are influenced by the system.

I happen to have friends, who have real good potential to make it big in life, to excel and all. They are really good in mathematics, analytics. And by good, I mean they can be thinkers and philosophers in it. But driven by the system, they have gone searching for the secure pasture of normal, yet maybe rich lives. I wonder if that was what they wanted all along. But, it is just a waste of talent and the gift. But I am afraid I will also have to go for it very soon.

I also have friends and relatives for that matter, who played music and soccer as they are the personification of the game itself. But they cannot live their passion. Why? It is the system. Say for cricket, there are millions who want to make it big in this game and all. Of these millions, I can bet, there are at least thousands who play better than the ones who made it into the mainstream play. It is not about their talents or that they are not good so they don’t get in and all. It is the system that decides their fate in the said game. I for one, even if I want to play this game with my whole heart and soul and even if I am really good in it, I know I will never have got into it. It is the system that decides.

Take for example, the women in the society. There are claims that they are given equal rights and all. But are they? Yes, they are. At least in the papers. But this system is so fixed that even with the rights given of being independent and all; they are expected to be the same age old inscripted womanly character in the whole scene of family life. A girl child is expected to know cooking and feeding the family. It is ‘expected’ of them. It is the system that decides how she will be. And the women for one accept it. A woman army officer is frowned upon. A woman public leader is despised. This is what the system is.

Alright, by system I mean the unwritten laws and said norms that govern the way how an individual is expected to perform their part in the society. It is the path that he or she is expected to take.

Now, I don’t want to start a revolution against the said system and all. Neither do I want to create this feeling in anyone. I just want to bring to light what everyone thinks and feel but cannot help it. I love my being, my existence in the society. So I have to abide by the system. And I have been doing it. I don’t have a choice.

Now, the question is, being given a chance, what will you do? I want to live my dreams, my passions, a life not inhibited with the worries of keeping aligned with the system. A life where I can be what I want to be.

Practically speaking, this life I want to live is: I would want to take a break from my studies after graduating my high school, then go enlist in the army or something, then if I want to, I will study again. I want to just play the piano and make a living out of it, I want to just write and feed my family. Then when I am forty, I want to do college again, not any other degree, but some engineering, or some medical degree, in some good institution.

Is this possible? I guess not. I had to go to school at the age of four, then study all the way to high school, then senior secondary school, then four years of engineering. By the time I graduated I was already twenty two. I could not afford to take a break after my high school, or my secondary. People make a fuss about this year break. If I had taken it, I would never have got into any Degree college. Now that’s the truth. Now, I cannot go back to college after I get cross over my fortieth year. I won’t get any. (Now there are exceptions of getting a degree after fifty and all, but I am not the exception, so excuse me)

This is the system. You cannot design your life and live it. You cannot wake up one morning and say, “Today is a nice day for science” and you take up studying your MS. The system has all set it up. If you lag behind, you suffer in the system. Your off-springs will bear this curse along with you. This is the system I am talking about.

Now, I don’t want to go on and on and on. I just want to break this monologue by asking yet again, “Are you satisfied with the life you are living ?”, “Are you living the life you designed?”

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Note: This post may not have a steady flow of ideas and all, but it does read out what is in my mind.

Through the window one afternoon

One late afternoon, I had nothing to do. I had just finished re-reading Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the sea”. I couldn’t hold my thoughts and there were visions thinking how the Old man could spend three days and nights deep into the ocean with sharks constantly hitting him and the big fish he had caught after a long struggle. I smiled away at certain thought of myself. The weather was fine. It had been like this in this place since I came. Quite sunny sometimes but all the more it was pleasing after the week of cloudiness shade. I was gazing out of my window. I could well get the view of the whole neighborhood block from the 3 by 5 hole. My apartment is on the third floor of a well founded building.

Various thoughts kept raging in my mind as i blankly gazed pass the neighborhood. But then I shook myself up. I could now see a small boy, learning to ride a bicycle. He might have been ten years or a little more, but he could not have been more than eleven. He lifted the bicycle, raised himself on a pile of bricks. He positioned himself and sat on it. He was full of enthusiasm and passion, I could see. Big eyes, unruly brown hair, looked very athletic even in his tender age. He made his first thrust. He went pass the electric pole some four feet from the brick. Then, bamm!! he fell down. He gave a huge sigh and retraced the trial again. Again, and Again, and Again he tried. God, He was hurt. But his morale was not, I could see. After a score and half a dozen more trials, he could slid a little more than what he could achieve till then. Of course he fell down. But he gave a huge grin as he looked back how far he came from the starting point. Satisfaction gleamed all over him. But it was not over. He started all over again.

I lifted my eyes to the Grey colored apartment building across the street just diagonal to mine, but it was a couple of floors lower. There was this girl on the phone. I just gazed at her. I tried to think over what she might be talking about. I was not prying into her privacy or something, and was well being justified as I could not hear her. My only crime was that I was looking at a girl without her permission. She might have been talking to her boyfriend, they might have had a fight last evening. She might have been talking to her friend, they might have been planning on tomorrow’s shopping. She might have been complaining to another friend about her parents denial of freedom to her. She might have been talking to her sister about her family and their well being. She might have been advising her kid brother about girlfriend and dates, or about his studies, or about his pocket money. I now desperately wanted to know what it was all about. But how could I. I just had to keep my thoughts cut open, with no solutions or answer.

I blinked, and my eyes went to a mother giving a bath to her infant boy. The love and care that could be seen her eyes was priceless. My thoughts drifted to my own mother. How she cared for me, and how she continues to do it so. It has been twenty two years and I could still see and feel the same fervor of perpetual love from her. I couldn’t comprehend the source of such ever-flowing compassion and love on me, and at that point it was about the child I could see. Every man, irrespective of anything, is so blessed to have come from a mother and not any other. I closed my eyes for a moment, and thought about my mom, and also my Dad too.

Then my vision cleared through the window of another apartment. There was this boy, in his late teens, with a huge headphone, almost engulfing him. He must have probably been listening to some punk rock or maybe some heavy trash metal, or who knows it might have been some classical overtures of Beethoven or Mozart. But the way in which his head banged with the music made it clear that it would be some Iron Maiden or Metallica. It wouldn’t be Pink Floyd or Pearl Jam, the head motion was not in their rhythm. I then thought about his probable struggles with his parents. He might have been thinking about the generation gap and how his parents cannot understand him. Or maybe he was not thinking at all. And maybe I was right. He just went on and on banging his head. I was nauseated at the thought of continuously shaking my head this way. It was a crime to ones head, I thought.

Then it was on the terrace of my adjacent building which was a floor lower than mine, I saw a well aged man, reading away the days newspaper. It was already 4 PM in the afternoon, but still he was holding on to the paper. I bet it was, say maybe the third or fourth time he is going through it. Maybe he found something very interesting that needed to be read a dozen times, maybe it is about the market crashing and stock points going lower each day, or maybe it was the nuclear deal, or maybe it was the new pension scheme that was introduced, or maybe the 4 o’clock paper reading was just a habit which he decided today to do at the terrace. I couldn’t remember well about the lifespan in India. I think it is somewhere 60-70 years. I always wondered whether I would way cross this defined age limit. But seeing this man, well beyond 70, made me even sure I would. I smiled and looked away, without much disturbing the man and his reading.

I then drifted to my own thoughts. How far I have come in this twenty two years. A boy who a few years back, never thought it was possible to come out of the well, from the comfort of the family, was staying in a big city all by himself, working, trying to understand the working of the world. Independence was what he had achieved, at least for now. I then thought of all the people I am indebted to. All the people that constantly think about me, my parents, my brothers and sister, my granny and grandpa. I don’t say that others don’t think about me or something like that, but just that they told me they do.

I looked up to the sky. The clouds were getting darker. It was 6 O’Clock. I had been looking out through my window for a good two hours and God! I think a lot. I searched for the bicycle kid, he was no where to be seen. Maybe he had learnt how to ride and was exploring new tricks on it. Neither could I see the girl on the phone. Maybe she had finished all the words in her mind and was thinking what to speak next. The mother and the child had finished bathing long back. I did notice that earlier. But they were out again on the terrace with the mother holding her child with the same affection she had. I could have kept on looking at them, but I had places to go and things to be done, so had to stop thinking. The old one was not there either. Maybe the reading quota for the day was over.

I looked down at the street, I could see families hurrying back into their homes. Children shouting around in happiness and glee. The women collecting the clothes kept for drying, and the pickles for cooking it in the sun’s heat. There was commotion everywhere as people were getting ready for the rain yet again. I smiled at myself and drifted back to the thoughts of the Old man that went into the ocean to catch the big fish, and the fish really was eighteen feet, Hemingway did record it.

I withdrew myself from the window, took an umbrella, and went for a walk, a long walk all alone in the rains, yet thinking.

“Why Write ?”

I can say for myself that I am no romantic writer. I do not seem to have the edge to write poems, or rhymes, or coin in some quotes. Nor am I a revolution writer, or a persuasive writer for that mater. But I do have this passion for writing even though for myself to read.

The question is, why do we write? Why do we want to pen down our thoughts? From time immemorial, men have been very keen to write, draw,or sketch. I remember from my ancient history class how men put up some graphics, arbitrary symbols to call it letters, words. Of course, we have come a long way from that. And we merely do not have just symbols to pass on our thoughts. But why do we take this pain? I’m afraid I dont have a sure definite answer, but I do have some thoughts from myself to share. There are practical reasons why we should write, and there are intellectual reasons why we should learn to write.

There are these obvious reasons, like writing for a term paper, for ones thesis or for ones research. A student writing up notes dictated, or straight from the board. These are writing too. But what I am interested is the intellectual aspects as to ‘why write?’ Some of my friends asked of me, “What makes you write?” or “why do you write?” (Now, I do not consider a writer myself.) I guess the answer will follow shortly in the discussion.

“For me, writing is exploration; and most of the time, I’m surprised where the journey takes me.” Jack Dann

The joy and satisfaction that you get out of letting out your thoughts into a paper is the next best thing you will ever feel. Writing helps you think, to an extent of boundless horizon. You can go to places you never knew existed. You can create a place devoid of all infirmities of this world. You can generate ideas and rise to a more abstract level. Remember, J.R Tolkien, he created a whole new world in his writings. Such are the visions you are promised to reach when you write.

“The pen is the tongue of the mind.” Miguel de Cervantes rightly says. Writing helps one organise ones thoughts. It is the physical realization of what is in our minds. As a human, we have various ideas darting in and out of our mind every second, as I am right now. You might wonder why this topic, as silly as it is. Now you see, had I not jotted these ideas down, would there been a post? With our ideas in words, we are given a time to go through it, ruminate or rather meditate over these thoughts. Cluster and organise it. Would it not help organising ourselves? “Spell it out” we say, meaning that we ought to bring out what is in the mind. I’d say, “write it out”.

Our attitute towards something, say a subject, a topic. How would you feel writing about it. You read it, understand it, study it, feel it, then you write it. There are various issues involved in any topic. Reasons, cause and consequences, pros and cons. You get to know where you stand, for or against. In a way, you gain the knowledge of what it is. This is one obvious reason why I like to write.

I have seen and heard, read some of the writings of many people who wrote of their joys or afflictions. A person bereft of love, struggling through a heartbreak, a loss can produce some great writing. One can write of the joyous experiences with full gleam of the blessed showers. We remember “The Freedom Writers Diary”, about how a teacher and her 150 students used Writing to change themselves and the world around them. “The Diary of Anne Frank”, the struggles of a young girl in the wake of the Nazis.

I used to write whenever I felt intimidated. I wrote when I hated talking. I found solitude in writing. I wrote down my griefs and they to me, turned out to be the best of my writings.<Please do not ask for it, they are very spiritual and personal to me> Now, I write because I can become a better thinker as I write. Because I can tell you what I think, what and how I feel. I write because in this, I can talk without being interupted. I write, because I love to and I enjoy doing it.

I can always look back and gauge how far I have come. I can never forget my roots. The trials and tribulations I have gone through. The happiness I have seen. Now, writing is not only mere jotting down of thoughts and ideas, its ME.

Not everything I write may as well be beneficial to the greater arena of people. But in my writing, there may be a word, a line or two, which may bring in some inspiration to a single soul or maybe two. If there is, I’d settle myself with being satisfied.

I quote from Melinda Haynes, “Forget all the rules. Forget about being published. Write for yourself and celebrate writing.”

Cheers.

L