I’ve loved words from the time I learnt and understood them. I’ve always thanked Miss Rozana Rodricks (my English teacher) for enlightening me and introducing me to a language that has no boundaries. However much we Indians despise the time when we were ruled by the whites there would always come that time when we’d need to thank them for the immense amount of worldly knowledge that was shared and add to that the language itself was bestowed upon us and as we all can see, English was easily absorbed. Since eons its gone around worlds within our small world and it didn’t need to try hard to become a globally acknowledged medium of communication. Today, I’m not shocked when even the rickshaw guy understands me when I speak in English. I have somehow been under the impression that I was good if not the best when it came to notating what I thought I knew about the world I lived in. Well, this mirage was recently shattered and I’m still trying to rummage whatever is left of the then towering figure of myself.
I’m just a nincompoop! A little toad unable to squeal or croak and trying to swim in a pond thats too big for it. Smelly and newborn. Trying to swim, but drowning instead. Words are never in your control and they can choose to make you sound sloppy if you treat them with disrespect and/or be overtly confident with them. Simply put, they have a mind of their own when they flow from your head, heart and mind onto books or digital media that you’re imprinting it onto and during this transition they might end up meaning something which you probably did not intend them to mean. Writing exactly what you feel, I think is a very difficult thing to do because feelings are abstract and writing requires a lot of imagery. I’m just going to write what I feel and stop nagging people to write. Its sad that I don’t have a single friend or acquaintance who actually likes writing and or blogging. Friends who blog would have been more advantageous, I’d say. I tried to talk to a few of my friends into writing. But then, thats what they say about writing – its not everyones fantasy. Some wouldn’t even read.
All my recent revelations stemmed from two important things. One of them being my guru at the creative writing workshop throwing in some real critisism about the way I write and the content in my writing. What he said was true and I’m thankful that he provided feedback. He’s a busy man but he still managed to find time to tell us newbies about what we need to correct in our writing. After this, I began reading at random blogs and I ended up at this blog – Lakshmi. From whatever I collected off her work on the web; she’s a 17 year old and I found her writing to be extremely captivating, almost poetic the way she writes prose and the way she’d evoke imagery using words alone is simply outstanding. I read at quite a few places but this was special considering that she’s merely 17. I thought it took time for one to be profound with words. Also, it takes experience to put them together. I’d associate her superior word building skills to her affinity to books and her love for reading. Its takes a lot to develop a unique style of writing and I was totally bowled over with the way she presented her thoughts, ideas and feelings without sounding unreal. I’d like to applaud her work and I hope she continues writing. Its quite a gift she’s got up her sleves.
I spoke to Sneha sometime back and we discussed a very lethal subject thats in the pipeline for her and then me. She usually vents out when we talk. She compulsively has to tell me about how silly it is for 25 year old guys to marry (this is mostly cause the guy she had a crush on was married) She’d comment on how weird it is that her weekend falls on a “Thursday” instead of one of the days on an actual weekend! Finally, we’d trickle down to the alfa-male of topics – What kind of a guy? When? Why arranged? *sigh* Sometimes I wish she had a life. The poor thing has been owned from the time she was born and I’m sure she hasn’t had a chance yet to decide for herself. I can’t quite say that its a bad thing to have had everything you ever wanted but then the caged feeling isn’t all that good I’d assume. I’ve always been the runaway prodigal son and thus I’ve managed to outlive parental expectations. Whatever I do is good for them – Wow! you managed that is probably what they think. Sneha on the other hand is expected to live upto our parents words and decisions and she’s be wonderful with being an optimum daughterdroid. We discussed marriage in length and it felt good talking to her about things on a more serious note. Well, thats how I ended my weekend. I’m covering the nights tomorrow onwards and I’m hoping to begin my workouts again. Finally, I hate stray dogs – they can bark endlessly throughout the night and sometimes I feel like rushing out, pulling a Mt. Carbine and killing each and everyone of the 40,000 odd strays living near my appartment. What a pain. Heh, but then… another day in paradise.